“Should we go back to there?”

Elsie seemed to be considering. “Could I see a map?”

He handed it to her. She traced a finger along their route. They’d gone up the mountain earlier, then down and into this hollow where they now found themselves, surrounded by trees and vegetation. It was the perfect place for someone to hide. Or be hidden by someone else. Dense and wild. It made Wyatt uneasy. He much preferred the beach area where the plane was, or even the higher mountain areas. He was a pilot. He naturally wanted to have a view, so he couldn’t imagine someone hiding down here on purpose.

“If we go back toward where we lost her scent...” Her voice trailed off. “Maybe? I think it’s worth it. Then from there we’d better head back to the plane.”

“I agree.” There was plenty of light, but Wyatt knew they had a while to hike before they made it back to the plane.

They started walking and Elsie stopped him and pointed when they reached the fork in the trail where they’d lost the scent.

“I think maybe she didn’t take a trail from here? But walked through the trees instead.”

“Why?”

“Just a guess.”

They stood for a minute, Wyatt lost in his own thoughts, not able to guess at what Elsie might be thinking. Then the hair on his arms stood up.

He looked over at Elsie to see if she’d noticed...whatever it was. She’d stilled also, as had Willow.

“What is it?” He chanced a whisper, not sure for his part if they were dealing with human threat or animal. Grizzly bears did stalk this part of the Alaskan wilderness, their paws bigger than a man’s face and unspeakably damaging. It could easily be a bear they’d sensed, even if Wyatt wasn’t sure exactly what it was he’d noticed. A smell? A noise?

It was more of a presence. An awareness that they weren’t alone.

Elsie moved forward, toward Willow, who had turned back toward Wyatt.

“Wyatt, no!”

Her scream registered at the same moment he felt something hard slam into his head. Blinded by the pain, he threw his arms out, tried to fight back, but darkness was already closing in. No, no, no, he could not afford to lose consciousness right now.

“Elsie, run!” he managed to yell before he went to his knees, the explosion of pain coming in echoes across his entire head. He laid his head on the ground, struggling to maintain consciousness, and after a second or two managed to stand back up. In the brief struggle, and his own pain, he’d lost sight of Elsie, his assailant, Willow, everyone.

God, help me find her again, he prayed and started down the trail. As he ran, he winced against the throbs of pain in his head and blinked away something that was obscuring his vision. He held a hand to his forehead, then drew it away. Shiny blood streaked across his hand.

He was mad enough to spit. How had he missed that someone was lurking close enough by to attack him?

And why hit him rather than just shoot him? He was thankful, but didn’t know why the method of attack concerned him.

Where. Was. Elsie?

That was what concerned him most, the confirmation that whoever was after her was still very much on her tail and somewhere on the island. Right now, very close to her. Pursuing her.

Unless he’d already caught her.

Wyatt wished he had Willow with him, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to read her cues and he certainly didn’t wish Elsie was without her. But they’d gotten separated at a split in the trail and he had no idea which way Elsie would have gone. He stopped. Stared. Thought, tried to think like Elsie would have.

Back to the plane. He felt confident in his decision. It was where she’d run yesterday, and it made sense. He kept going, changing directions slightly to head back toward the beach, praying that he was right.

He was nearing a thick stand of spruce trees when he felt like he was being watched. Still irritated he’d been taken off guard earlier, he pulled his revolver out of its holster. He was not going to be attacked again, and he was going to find Elsie.

Holding his breath, he stepped into the darkness of the forest.

“Wyatt.” The voice was a whisper. Elsie’s. Her arm reached out of the trees and pulled him in.

Her eyes were wide and she was holding Willow close to her, but they both appeared uninjured.

“You’re bleeding,” she told him, her voice quiet, wavering.

“I’m fine. I’m more focused on the fact that you’re okay.” Wyatt felt like he could breathe again.

“We ran, like you said. Willow held him off while I ran and then she caught up to me. I can’t believe I left her. I shouldn’t have left her...”

“Did you tell her to come?”

“Yes.”

“Elsie, that’s the most obedient dog I’ve ever known. If she wouldn’t listen to you, she was sure about it. You can’t force her not to try to protect you.”

Willow seemed to agree with him, her eyes meeting his. Wyatt would have sworn at the moment the dog could talk and was thanking him for taking her side.

“I’m just glad she’s okay.” Her arms tightened around the dog. “But your head...”

“You’re a first responder. You know head wounds bleed a lot.”

“You can’t fly us out of here.”

“If we need to get out, I’ll get us out.” His voice was probably gruffer than he’d meant for it to be.

She didn’t try to argue with him there, which he appreciated, but the truth was his head was throbbing from the hit and his mind felt like cotton balls had been stashed in it. Thinking felt oddly harder than it should, like his mental engine took a moment of revving before firing up. He’d had a concussion before—baseball in high school—and it had felt just like this. He didn’t know how he was going to safely fly them both back. Realistically, he couldn’t. He’d have to figure something else out. Surely he knew someone else with a seaplane. Or the troopers could call someone.

This complicated their search, for sure. No one would call him fit to fly at the moment, or even in the coming week, or even longer. Most of the concussion protocols he’d heard of involved a month out of a plane.

Nothing he could do to change it.

“Do you know where he went?” he asked, directing the conversation back to whoever was on the island with them.

“I don’t.” Her voice trembled. “I just dove in here to hide.”

Wyatt hated that she sounded scared. He wanted to do everything in his power to keep her from being afraid.

But with someone in the woods who clearly wanted them stopped, he understood her fear. It was probably very much justified.

He’d said he was fine, but Elsie wasn’t sure she really believed him, which was why she’d insisted that Wyatt walk ahead of her. Enough time had passed since the initial injury that she didn’t think he’d pass out, but you just never knew with head trauma.

Speaking of trauma, she’d noticed her hands were shaking. Adrenaline, most likely. But knowing the reason for it didn’t make it any less scary. She didn’t like admitting that what she’d experienced affected her at all, and she had lived in denial for years about her childhood affecting her, but there would be no denying that this was going to.

The fact that he hadn’t argued much about walking in front of her was scaring Elsie. As protective as he’d been about her safety, almost to the point of treating her too carefully, she’d expected him to put up a fight and demand to be in the back in case danger came from that direction. Maybe he was telling himself that being in front of her was keeping her safe, too. At the moment, Elsie didn’t care too much about her safety. She was worried about Wyatt.