Blood lure

"I've got to move," she whispered. "See what's going on."

Joan thought about it so long A

"Okay," the researcher said at last. "One at a time. Move slowly. You see the bear, stop. Stop everything. Just lie wherever you are."

"Got it."

"Don't fight."

"No." "Don't run."

"No."

"Okay."

Trussed in tent, fly and sleeping bag, A

With each twitch and rustle she made as she turned her body around and pushed her way feebly toward the end of the tent that held the zippered entrance flap, A

The front of the tent had suffered the worst. Poles were bent or broken but still strung together by the elastic cord ru

Without a light, finding first the tent zipper then the fly was proving impossible. Spending more time head-down in the suffocating folds of night and nylon was unthinkable. A

Then she discovered that the bear had done for her what she could not do for herself.

A long gash had been opened through tent and fly. Resisting the impulse to fight her way clear of the entrapping ruin of fabric, she pulled the nylon open a finger's width and peeked out.

After the pitch dark of the tent, the clearing, lit by a half-moon and stars, appeared as bright as a staged night for actors. When she'd satisfied herself the bear was gone, she crawled out.

For a long moment she crouched just outside while the shakes took control of her body. She felt like laughing and wanted to cry. Breathing deeply to dispel the hysteria, she let it pass. Having pushed herself to the balls of her feet, knuckles down in a ru

Finding none, she said, "All clear." It came out in a weak kitten's mewl. Clearing her throat, she said it again. Better.

"Help me," Joan's muffled call came from within the pile.

A

"Rory!" they both called at once.

"Flashlight," A

"Rory!" A

His tent was in worse shape than theirs. In the colorless light of the moon, it lay like a ripped and punctured balloon. A

Joan had found the flashlight but A

Chapter 4

Luke!" Joan screamed the name of her younger son, the one who bore such a striking resemblance to the Van Slyke boy. Dropping the flashlight, she fell to her knees and began digging frantically through the collapsed tent, clutching at the lumps of his pack and boots as if they were severed parts from his torn body. The courage and control she'd exhibited when the danger was merely to herself were gone. She was reacting as a panicked mother might.

"Joan," A

"The bear must have dragged him out, taken him into the woods," Joan said. She sounded stu

"Maybe not," A

"Not often," Joan said. "Rarely. Almost never." She was reassuring herself. A

A quick glance at her watch told her it was at least three hours till dawn. The faint light of the clearing, seemingly so bright after the inside of the tent, would not penetrate the thick canopy of forest. Had the bear dragged Rory into the woods to feed on, there was a chance the boy was still alive.

An even better chance he wouldn't stay that way long.

Pursuing a grizzly into the forest in the dark, a grizzly already enraged by something and now, perhaps, with food in the form of Rory Van Slyke to defend, was the rankest madness. If the bear took the boy, they would most likely find his corpse half eaten and buried in a shallow grave raked out of the duff. If they found him at all.

Not going after Rory was going to be one of the hardest things A

Crazy to try and save him.

"Stay here," A

"I'm not staying."

A

"You've got to," she said. "If Rory ran off, then comes back and we're both gone, he'll freak. You know he will."

"If Rory ran, the bear would have chased him," Joan said stubbornly. "That's what they do."

A

"I'll stay."

"I'm not going far. Not out of earshot."

Cold and cutting, a new wave of fear met A

Since she was a child A

Walt Disney lied. It was the Brothers Grimm who had the right idea: witches baked little girls, stepmothers poisoned them, bears ate them.

"Get a grip," she whispered, dizzy with the nightmare she'd just dreamed. "A bear's a bear's a bear." It crossed her mind that by demonizing the animal, she might just be seeking an excuse not to step across the stream into the woods.

"Make noise." Joan's shout woke A

"Right," she called back. The objective was not to sneak up on the bear but to frighten it away should it still be in the vicinity.