A single flashlight, no matter how bright, couldn’t banish all of the shadows in the cave. He swung the beam from side to side, not wanting to be ambushed. Not knowing how many animals might be inside. He caught glimpses of tails and paws as they scattered. Their eyes reflected bright against the darkness. The smell of musk was so strong that Jared could hardly breathe. He tucked his nose into the crook of his elbow and kept on.

It smelled of blood in here too. The coyote they’d shot—the one his father had shot—had to be close. He thought he could hear it panting. He tried to follow the sound but couldn’t tell where it came from for sure. Every noise bounced back off stone walls, amplified and repeated until he hardly knew left from right.

That’s why, he’d tell himself later, he didn’t see the body until he’d nearly stepped on its bare feet. No, not a body. It—he—was breathing. This was the sound he’d been following. It came from the man lying on the cave floor, one hand curled deep in the fur of the coyote tucked next to his side.

A coyote who bared its teeth as Jared struggled to get his backpack off and kneel on the man’s other side. He kept the light trained on it, just in case it attacked. He pulled the pistol out and laid beside him, within easy reach. Then he swept the light down over the man’s body. Dirty. Skinny enough to count ribs and a wound still oozing blood too quickly to be healthy from the bullet hole in his thigh.

Jared hesitated, hand poised over the other man’s shoulder, not wanting to scare him. Not wanting to leave him if he needed help. He let his fingers brush dirty skin first, a featherlight touch that could be batted away if the man simply slept. He didn’t stir. Jared took a deep breath, gripped the shoulder and shook.

He thought he’d braced himself for whatever the injured man might do. He was wrong. One minute he was stretched out, passed out, seemingly oblivious. The next he’d surged up and twisted to catch Jared’s shoulders. Skinny though he was, he was strong and he slammed Jared backward so hard that his head cracked, smacking the hard ground. He saw stars for a moment, bright specks of light that swam in and out of his vision.

When it cleared, he thought for sure he’d gotten a concussion. He was imagining things. He had to be seeing something that wasn’t real or dreaming. He hadn’t really come all this way. He was still asleep, still tucked into his bed. That was the only way to explain why he knew this man. Why the wild thing holding him down was… “Adam.”

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