How many miles have we hiked? Who knows? Probably not as many as it feels. All the times we’ve clambered down to drink from the river and then had to climb back up, that slows us down.

When daylight starts to dim, Imani suggests we look for shelter and make camp. We all seem to agree that’s a good idea. Tony makes a joke of it. “Motel 6? Really? I think we need to aim higher.”

Some of us chuckle, because it is sort of funny. Not Imani. “Like a cave or something,” she says, dead serious. “Anything to stay dry.”

With that in mind, we study the opposite side of the ravine, looking for the shadows that might mark a cave.

Tony prances around, making caveman noises. “Uga booga! Ug ug a jug!”

I’m not surprised that Mia spots the cave first. She has the sharpest eyes. The cave, if you can call it that, isn’t in the face of the ravine. It’s under a mass of roots from a toppled tree. Some big slabs of rock lifted up by the roots, and under that, what looks to be an area protected from the weather.

Mia gets the flashlight out of the backpack.

“Look out for bears,” Tony jokes.

“Not funny.”

Mia clicks on the flashlight and aims the beam into the opening.

Two glowing eyes stare back at us.

With a horrifying, catlike shriek, a mountain lion explodes from the darkness.

13. Wild Yellow Eyes

The creature, all muscle and bone, lands in a crouch no more than ten feet from Mia. Ears back, tail twitching, jaws open to show big, glistening fangs. Hissing and growling, low in its throat, like a purr gone bad. All the signs of impending attack.

“Stand next to me!” I shout. “Don’t break eye contact! Stare at it! Make yourself look tall! Raise your hands over your head! The bigger we look, the more chance it will run away.”

We jam ourselves together, side by side, fists in the air. If Mia was alone, she’d probably already be dead. Fangs like that can penetrate a human skull. But confronted by five humans, the beast is nervous, unsure of itself.

The growl gets louder, higher. The tail twitches faster.

“Don’t run. No matter how much you want to, don’t. Running makes you look like a meal.”

“So what do we do?” Tony sounds as scared as me.

“Back up slowly,” I say, looking into the lion’s yellow eyes. “Keep together.”

We back up, putting a few yards between us and the lion. Its crouch tightens, as if preparing to pounce or charge.

“We yell together, at the top of our lungs,” I say. “Not in fear, but in threat. ‘Go, cat,’ as loud as possible. All together now …

“GO, CAT! GO, CAT! GO, CAT!”

Those wild yellow eyes, drinking us in, wanting blood. Wanting to claw and tear and rip and bite.