Jace’s tail disappeared over another small hill, and I dug in with the toes of my boots, climbing the incline after him, grabbing exposed roots and dangling vines for support. The only advantage my two-legged form carried in the forest was the convenience of human speech. Everything else was harder—more work for less result. Especially jumping. Jace had soared right over the hill, barely pausing halfway up for a powerful shove against the earth with his hind legs. But I actually had to climb, pulling with my arms and pushing with my feet. I slid, and would have lost my footing entirely if not for Marc’s hand on my rear, heaving me up.
At the top of the hill, I took two running steps after Jace, then hesitated as a familiar scent rose above the tangle of forest smells surrounding me. Bear. A bear’s been through here recently.
No, not just a bear; a bruin. Keller.
Marc had cut ahead of me when I’d slowed, but he stopped when he noticed me lagging behind. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I picked up Keller’s scent.”
“Yeah, he came through here on his way to the lodge. His cabin’s about six miles northwest of here.”
I nodded, and slowed to an actual stop beside him to rest. My human lungs were winded by what would barely have been a workout for a cat. “How close are we to where they found the cop?”
Marc pulled the GPS unit from his jacket pocket and pushed a couple of buttons. Then he turned to his left, and glanced at the screen again. “We’re going the wrong way. It’s about two miles northeast of here.”
“Better call Jace back then.”
Marc shoved the GPS back into his pocket and slid two fingers partway into his mouth, leaving a gap between them. He inhaled deeply, then blew over his fingers, producing a very shrill, very loud whistle, which I couldn’t replicate to save my life.
Seconds later, Jace burst from between two bushes and plopped down on the ground at our feet, licking dirt from one paw as if there was nothing more important to be dealt with at the moment than personal hygiene. Which was pretty damn typical of a cat, honestly.
“Wrong way, dumbass,” Marc said genially.
Jace paused in mid-lick, rolling his eyes up to meet Marc’s. He blinked once—in dismissal, I’m sure—then returned to his grooming, apparently unconcerned with either the name-calling or his own flawed sense of direction. Also typical of a cat.
“Okay, Fabio, that’s enough primping. Let’s go.” Reaching down, I grabbed a handful of fur and skin from the back of Jace’s neck and pulled. He growled lightly—a mock warning—and rose with my hand. I rewarded him with a stroke down the entire length of his back, which he extended by trailing his tail through my palm too. Greedy tomcat.