What? Glancing over his shoulder, Hawk gasped.

A fucking huge elk charged up the trail—right at him.

He threw himself back—not far enough.

Its giganto-shoulder slammed into him and knocked him toward the drop at the trail’s edge. He screamed in terror. “Nooo!”

Grabbing his shirt, the sarge swung him around and tossed him safely against the cliff wall.

Making weird grunting sounds, the elk mama lunged at Gabe like she wanted to stomp on him.

The kid dove away.

“Leave, dumbass!” The sarge threw a big rock at the beast’s huge nose.

The elk shook its head, then its ears went back again and—

Huddled against the rock wall, Hawk stared as a giant crack appeared right under the animal’s hooves. The trail was falling apart!

“Gabe, get back!” Hawk yelled.

Gabe tried, stumbled, and went down on one knee.

The elk leaped away from the collapsing path and ran after its baby.

Lunging forward, Mako caught Gabe’s collar and threw him farther down the trail, even as the ground disappeared right out from under the sarge’s boots. In a mass of falling rocks and dirt, Mako went over the edge.

“Nooo,” Hawk whispered.

“Mako!” Bull shouted. No answer. Bull started to follow, and more of the trail crumbled away.

“Stop,” Gabe yelled. “Just wait.

Bull paused.

“Hawk, you got rope, right?” Gabe called.

“Yeah.” Hawk dug in his pack and pulled out a bunch of coiled rope. Mako was gonna teach him to use it on the cliffs.

Gabe pointed to a tree off to one side. “Caz, tie it there.”

Cazador scrambled to the spot, caught the rope Hawk tossed him, wrapped it around the tree, and made a solid knot. Something else Mako had taught them.

Bull kicked the coil off the side of the slope and held it. He leaned out. “I think he fell all the way down to the stream.”

“Let’s get him. Bull, you take backup.” Gabe grabbed the rope and used it to slow himself down as he went over the edge.

Caz followed.

Hawk slung his pack on, took a step—and tripped as loose rocks rolled out from under his foot. Arm windmilling, he teetered.

Still gripping the rope, Bull grabbed Hawk’s shirt and kept him from going over.

Jesus. Hawk latched onto the rope with shaking hands. “Thanks.” The word came out in his ugly, rough voice.

“Sure.” Bull grinned.

With a steadying breath—and a tight grip on the line—Hawk headed down. It wasn’t a cliff like on the other side of the trail but was steep enough he’d have tumbled a dozen times if not for the rope.

Bull followed.

The sarge lay at the bottom of the slope, half in the rushing creek.

“Sarge?” Hawk’s hands clenched when he didn’t move. Gabe took one arm, Hawk the other, and they dragged him onto the flat bank out of the water.