Imani takes charge because she’s passed a CPR course. She examines the wound on his calf. “Not too deep.”

“Deep enough to cut me.” Deke sounds grumpy. Who could blame him?

“Sorry. Looks like three claws grazed you on the way by. I’m going to open one of these antiseptic wipes, and then we’ll bandage you up.”

“Fine. Thanks.”

“This will sting,” Imani says apologetically.

Deke grimaces, but doesn’t moan or cry out. He may not be acting like a bully right at the moment, but he’s still tough as nails. As soon as the bandage is taped to his calf, he gets to his feet and picks up Cindi’s carrier by the shoulder straps. “We need to keep moving.”

“Sure you don’t need a break?”

“I want to put some distance between us and the bear.”

Good idea. Great idea. Do bears return to the scene of a confrontation? No idea, and no interest in finding out.

We tramp along the river until the sun gets low in the sky. All of us disappointed that we haven’t reached the pickup location by the end of the day, or been found by rescuers. And worried sick because Cindi is getting worse. Mostly she’s out of it, muttering about stuff that doesn’t make any sense. Imani says it’s called delirium.

“It happens when you’re in shock, and I think she’s been in shock since the flood. She must have a really strong heart or she’d be gone by now.”

“We’ll make a fire, keep her warm. See if she’ll swallow some broth.”

Deke and I are on kindling detail. He’s limping a little and trying to hide it.

“That was a brave thing you did.”

He snorts. “Didn’t feel brave. Felt stupid.”

“Whatever, it worked. You got rid of the bear.”

“Next time I’m jumping in the river.”

“Bears can swim,” I remind him.

“So can I.”

I get the impression he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I stop pushing. But I’m wondering about bullies. Who they are and why they act so mean. Have they been bullied, too, or do they just enjoy it? Can they change? Or are they bullies for life? The sneering part of Deke still shows, but he’s mostly sneering at himself, and he hasn’t said anything cruel since Tony fell from the cliff.

I’m starting to think it isn’t an act, that this is the real Deke Bailey. He had this haunted look when the three of us were explaining about being friends for life. Like it was something he wished he could share in, but didn’t know how.

When the campfire is going strong, Mia heats up water for our last freeze-dried meal.

“That’s it? It’s all gone?”

She shakes the bag. “Final ration. But I’m not worried. You want to know why?”