Parker Winterbloom's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

The trial form sat folded in Parker's coat pocket. He walked the packed snow path toward the little ranger station, saying the words in his head. He was ready. Then he heard it. A high, broken cry cut across the wind, off to his left. He stopped. It came again, weaker. Parker followed the sound to a snarl of frozen brush. A snowshoe hare lay on its side, one hind leg pinned in an old wire snare. Blood darkened the snow. The hare thrashed and screamed. Parker knelt and spoke to it low, in its own quick language. "Hold still. I'm here to help." The hare stopped kicking and stared at him, chest heaving. Parker glanced back toward the station. The trial started soon. If he stayed, he might miss it. If he left the hare, the wire would cut deeper, and a fox would find it before dark. A ranger did not walk past a dying animal. That was the whole point of being one. He pulled his small knife and started sawing the wire. The strands were rusted and tight. Parker worked slow so he would not cut the leg. "Almost," he told the hare. "Almost." The wire snapped. The hare pulled free and lay panting. The leg was hurt but not broken. Parker bound it with a strip torn from his scarf, the way his mother bound the animals she nursed. "You lose things out here when you rush." The voice was rough and close. Parker turned. Ranger Randy stood over him, gray beard stiff with frost, hat low against the wind. He was the oldest ranger, the one who watched the park longer than anyone. He had seen Parker's gift before and believed it. His face gave away nothing. "It was caught," Parker said. "I couldn't leave it." Randy crouched. He studied the snapped wire, then the hare's bound leg. He touched the snare with one finger. "This isn't ours," he said. "We don't set wire here. Haven't for years." His voice dropped, slow and careful. "I don't say this often. Something's wrong in my park. Animals hurt where nothing should hurt them." Parker looked at the rusted wire again. "Then there's more of these." "Maybe." Randy stood and lifted the hare gently into his coat. "You missed your trial time, boy. Bell rang ten minutes ago." Parker's stomach dropped. The form in his pocket felt useless now. "I know." Randy watched him a long moment. "You chose the animal over the door." A short nod. "That's the answer most men fail." He turned toward the station. "Come on. I'll speak for you. But the trial waits for another day now. And I need eyes I trust while I find who's laying wire." Parker rose, cold and shaking, and followed. He had lost his chance to be sworn in today. He had gained something heavier instead.