The Wild by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page A

and tried to shake the idea that things were changing.
    Perhaps it was the cold, and the winter bearing down on them faster than ever. Merritt and Jim still doubted Jack’s observations—surely they had weeks yet—but he felt things winding down. There had been ice on the Thirty Mile River when they reached the end of this leg of the great Yukon, and though thin and brittle, its presence had troubled Jack. They still had a long way to go, and he knew very well how their journey could be disrupted if and when the river froze.
    â€œWhy so glum, Jack?” Merritt asked. “We did well today. Rode the beast and tamed it, eh?”
    â€œTamed the wild horse!” Jim said, and the men chuckled. They had their mittened hands wrapped around metal cups of coffee, and the smell of the brew hung fragrant in the air. Their breaths hung also, clouding the still atmosphere with every exhalation, every word spoken.
    â€œYou know why,” Jack said. “I’m worried about that ice.” He stood and paced around the fire. “I’m worried about how cold it is now. Worried about the frost in our beards, the cold in my toes, the numbness in my hands. We don’t reach Dawson before the first freeze, we might just be stuck formonths. And I don’t like our chances without shelter.”
    â€œJack—,” Jim began, but Jack went on. Talking made him feel better; voicing his fears, perhaps, or maybe it was simply the act of concentrating on something other than that wolf.
    â€œIf we are stuck, where will we stay? We won’t be able to camp—what little camping gear we have will become our tombs. So maybe we find an old cabin in the forest and make use of it. What will we eat? Our supplies might last through a winter, but barely, and that’ll leave nothing for afterward.”
    â€œThis doesn’t sound like you, Jack,” Merritt said quietly.
    Jack thought angrily, You’ve only known me a matter of days! Never mind that though he was the youngest among them at seventeen, his friends seemed to look to him for leadership. But the big man’s words rang true. And Jack knew that there was no better way of forging close bonds than by tackling hardship together.
    He sighed and shook his head. “It isn’t me, normally,” he said. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
    â€œThen let’s sleep,” Jim said.
    Merritt nodded. “Then up at dawn, and on the river all day. We’ll get there, Jack, just you see.”
    Jack smiled as he turned away, but that expression soon dropped from his face. He left the fire and ventured intothe woods, stomping through the snow that would likely be much deeper very soon. He needed to relieve himself, but he had other reasons for leaving the camp. He scanned between the trees, sniffed the air, and closed his eyes as he tried to sense the thing that was following him.
    But if it did follow, it remained at a distance.
    Â 
    They spent the next day on the river, but by the time they needed to land again to eat and dry their clothes around a fire, Merritt and Jim were no longer so confident. The river was perhaps a mile wide in places, and the farther they paddled with the flow, the more ice built up around them. Cakes of ice crushed and ground together, and the river had a new sound, like the grumble of a giant slowly falling asleep.
    They camped on the bank that evening with the river growling past them, but Jack vowed that from now on they would remain on the water until they reached Dawson. He reckoned it was maybe a hundred miles farther, and the chances of reaching it before the river ground to a halt completely…
    Well, maybe they’d be lucky. But even Jim and Merritt were quiet that evening, staring into the fire and clasping their coffee mugs. Ice built up on their stubble and eyelashes, and the cold seemed to leach heat even from the fire.
    On the river the next morning, Jack barely had need to