Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Amanda

A manda Adams gripped the steering wheel of her SUV with one hand, her other hand cradling the receiver of her radio. Her heart ached as the dispatcher's voice crackled through the static, delivering the news she had dreaded since early morning.

"Last sighting was near the old logging road," the dispatcher repeated. "The hunter who reported it didn't stick around. Said it was too far gone and too hard to get to it."

"So, he just left it to die a slow, agonizing death?"

"Yeah. He said he wasn't the one who wounded it."

Amanda rolled her eyes and sighed. "I guess we should be glad he at least called it in. I'll let you know if and when I find it. If you get any other reports, let me know."

Amanda clenched her jaw, suppressing a wave of frustration. The thought of a wounded elk, abandoned to suffer alone in the cold wilderness of Kodiak Island, filled her with a deep sense of urgency. The island's untamed beauty often lured hunters, but it was also a place of unforgiving terrain and harsh weather, where even the slightest misstep could mean death for man or beast.

She pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the snow-covered landscape. Amanda had spent her entire life in Alaska, and she knew the terrain like the back of her hand. But tonight, the familiar roads felt more treacherous, the shadows more menacing.

As she drove along the narrow, icy road, her headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the dense forest on either side. The trees loomed like silent sentinels; their branches heavy with snow. The radio in her lap buzzed again, but this time Amanda ignored it. Most likely it was the dispatcher telling her to abandon the search as nighttime in the wilderness added a whole degree of difficulty and danger he wouldn't want her to take on.

Ray, the dispatcher, had become a friend, which was good as he threw business her way when he could, which was nice as making a living as a vet in Kodiak could be tough. But she had all the information she needed. The elk was out there, somewhere in the vast wilderness, and she had to find it before it was too late.

Amanda's breath fogged the windshield as she concentrated on the road, her thoughts focused on the task ahead. She knew this was more than just a job for her—it was a mission. The lives of Kodiak's animals mattered to her, not just because she was a veterinarian, but because she felt a deep connection to the land and its creatures. It was what had driven her to move to this remote island, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of urban life for the solitude and serenity of the Alaskan wilderness.

The road narrowed as it wound deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around her. Amanda squinted into the darkness, searching for any sign of the wounded elk. The night was eerily quiet; the only sound was the crunch of tires on snow and the occasional rustle of branches as the wind picked up.

Then, she saw it—a flash of movement at the edge of her headlights. Amanda slowed the SUV to a crawl, her heart pounding in her chest. Pulling off on the side of the road, she put the vehicle in park and set the brake. She grabbed her flashlight from the passenger seat, pulled on her thick parka, and stepped out into the frigid air. In spite of her winter dress, the cold cut through her layered clothing like a hot knife through butter.

The beam of light from her flashlight cut through the darkness. Sweeping it back and forth, she finally located the elk. The animal was lying in the snow, its massive body heaving with labored breaths. Amanda's heart sank at the sight. It looked as though it had been shot at least a few days before. The elk's coat was matted with blood, its eyes dull with pain. It made a weak mewling noise and struggled to try and rise, but its body was too weak. It had been shot in the hindquarters, the wound festering and raw.

"Oh, you poor thing," Amanda whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

She approached the elk slowly, not wanting to startle it. The animal's ears flicked back, but it made no further attempt to move. It was too weak, too close to death. Amanda knelt beside it, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch the elk's neck. The skin was cold to the touch, and the animal's pulse was weak, barely there.

Amanda swallowed hard, blinking back tears. She knew what had to be done. She reached into her bag and pulled out a syringe filled with a strong euthanasia cocktail that would not render the resulting meat toxic or inedible to scavengers. The elk's suffering needed to end, and there was no other way. Amanda's hand shook as she injected the cocktail, which included a sedative, into the elk's neck, her other hand gently stroking its fur.

"Shh, it's okay," she murmured. "It'll be over soon."

The elk's breathing slowed, its body relaxing as the sedative took effect. Amanda stayed with it until the very end, her heart breaking as the animal's chest rose and fell one last time. She whispered a soft prayer, a habit she had picked up from her mother, and closed the elk's eyes with trembling fingers.

Amanda sat back on her heels, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she cursed the hunter's bad aim and unwillingness to end the suffering it had caused. She had no issues with ethical hunters who ate their kill—a lot of Alaska's citizens depended on hunting and fishing for their sustenance—but to wound one and just walk away? Unforgivable.

The cold was seeping into her bones, but she didn't care. Sorrow weighed heavy on her chest, the loss of the elk a sharp reminder of the fragility of life in this unforgiving land.

After a long moment, she stood, her legs stiff from the cold. She knew she couldn't stay here much longer. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and she needed to get back to Kodiak before the weather worsened. Amanda cast one last glance at the elk, a silent farewell, before turning back to her SUV.

Once inside her SUV, she radioed back to Randy. "I found him. Gorgeous creature. I put him out of his misery."

Knowing she only used drugs that would not cause harm to the creatures who consumed the remains, he said, "Knowing you, you stayed with him until the end. Thank you for that. I really appreciate your whole way of doing things."

"Thanks. I like to think that at least his death will help other animals to survive. I'm headed back. Talk to you tomorrow or the next day."

She turned off her radio. She really didn't want to talk to anyone. The drive back was quiet, the silence oppressive and yet comforting. Amanda's thoughts swirled with the events of the night; the image of the dying elk burned into her mind. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as she navigated the treacherous road. The snow had started to fall again, the flakes thick and heavy, obscuring her view.

She was halfway back to town when it happened. A sudden jolt, a loud pop, and the SUV lurched violently to the right. Amanda's heart leapt into her throat as she fought to keep control, but the road was too slick, the tires too compromised. The vehicle skidded across the ice, careening off the road and into the trees.

Amanda screamed as the SUV flipped, the world spinning around her in a blur of white and black. The sound of crunching metal and breaking glass filled her ears, and then, everything went silent.

When she opened her eyes, the world was tilted sideways, and pain shot through her body. Amanda groaned, her vision swimming as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The SUV had come to rest on its side, the windshield shattered, snow seeping in through the broken glass. The smell of gasoline filled the air, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood down her face.

Panic surged through her as she realized the severity of the situation. She was trapped, her legs pinned under the crumpled dashboard. The pain was excruciating, and every breath was a struggle. Amanda's mind raced, trying to remember what she needed to do, but the shock and blood loss were making it hard to think clearly.

She reached for her phone, but it was nowhere to be found, likely lost in the crash and the radio mic was a bit out of reach as well. Amanda cursed under her breath, her hands trembling as she tried to free herself. But the more she struggled, the weaker she felt. Her vision blurred, and she knew she was losing too much blood.

Just as darkness began to close in around her, a light appeared in the distance. Amanda blinked, trying to focus, but everything was hazy. She honked the horn. The light grew brighter, and she heard the crunch of footsteps on snow. Someone was coming.

She continued to honk the horn. "Hey! Over here!" she tried to call out, but her voice was barely a whisper.

The light moved closer, and then she saw him—a man with rugged features and a determined expression, his breath fogging in the cold air. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a rough-hewn look that spoke of a life spent in the wilderness. Amanda's heart fluttered with a mix of hope and fear. Who was he? And would he be able to help her?

The man crouched beside the wreck; his face lit by the beam of his flashlight. His eyes met Amanda's, and she saw a flicker of concern in their depths. "Hang on," he said, his voice deep and steady. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

She felt an overwhelming sense of dizziness and nausea and chalked it up to her current condition. The man moved quickly, assessing the situation with a practiced eye. Amanda watched in a daze as he pulled out a knife and began cutting away the seatbelt that held her in place. The pain was becoming unbearable, and she could feel herself slipping away, the darkness threatening to consume her.

"No… no, I can't…" Amanda mumbled, her words slurring. She knew she was dying. The blood loss was too severe, and she could feel the cold creeping into her bones. She didn't have much time.

But the man didn't seem to hear her. He was focused on his task, his movements swift and efficient. Within moments, he had freed her from the wreckage and was carefully pulling her out into the snow. Amanda gasped as the cold air hit her, her body trembling violently.

She watched in a fog as the man knelt beside her, tying off the large wound in her leg, his hands moving with purpose. Then, to her shock, she saw him pull out a small knife and slice open his own wrist. Blood welled up, dark and rich, and before she could react, he pressed the wound to one of the gashes on her neck.

"Take it easy," he commanded as she struggled against him; his voice left no room for argument. "You need this. I'm a universal donor. O negative."

Amanda wanted to resist, wanted to pull away, but she was too weak. The warmth of his blood seemed to suffuse her system almost immediately. She felt a surge of energy, a strange kind of heat spreading through her veins.

The man watched her closely, his face set in grim determination. "That's it," he said softly, as if coaxing a wounded animal back to life. "You're gonna be okay."

Amanda wasn't sure if she believed him. Her head was spinning, her stomach churning with nausea. She felt like she was floating, her body disconnected from reality. But there was something about this man, something in his eyes that made her want to trust him.

"Who… who are you?" she managed to whisper; her voice barely audible.