Parker Winterbloom's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

The snare line pointed north, into a stretch of ridge Parker had never crossed. He stopped at the edge of the last snow field. Ahead the ground broke into cracks and ice shelves. One wrong step meant a fall. "I don't know this ground," Parker said. "If we pick wrong, we lose his trail." Daniel crouched and studied the slope. "Cliffs on the left. Thin ice on the right. Bad choices both ways." Boots crunched behind them. Parker turned. Ranger Randy came down the ridge, older and gray-bearded, the same man who had once watched Parker tell a coyote to sit and stay. Randy had seen the gift was real. Now he studied the boy's belt, heavy with cut wire. "Six snares," Randy said. "Same knot?" Parker nodded. Randy's jaw went tight. "I don't say this often. That man's hurting my park. You found more than I did." "The trail goes north," Parker said. "But I've never crossed this. I can't read the safe way." Randy looked at the broken ice and shook his head. "Neither can I from here. Been years since I climbed it." Daniel wiped frost from his beard. "Then we're stuck. Guess wrong and the boy falls." A soft rustle came from the low brush. A small creature hopped out, its body round like a rabbit crossed with a guinea pig. Bright pink and blue hair ran down its neck. It sat in the snow and watched Parker with wide purple eyes. Parker knelt slow. He made a low chirping sound, the creature's own tongue. "You live up here," he said. "Which way holds?" The creature's ears twitched. It hopped three steps left, then stopped and looked back. Parker followed on his knees. The little animal wove between two ice shelves, past a crack Parker had nearly stepped into, and up onto solid rock. Every place it set its paws, the ground held firm. "It knows the route," Parker said. "It crosses this every day." Randy watched the creature lead and lowered his hat brim. "Never seen the like," he muttered. Daniel tested the first ice shelf with his boot. It held. "The thing's picking safe ground," he said. "Follow the fur ball, boy." They climbed slow, one careful step at a time, the small creature always three hops ahead. Twice it darted around a hidden gap that would have swallowed a leg. Parker marked each turn in his memory. They reached the top of the ridge. The creature stopped, sniffed the wind, and vanished into a burrow. Parker stood and looked north. The land opened flat before him. And there, pressed fresh into the snow, ran a line of boot prints. Beside them lay a coil of wire and a stake, half driven. "He was here," Parker said. "This morning." Daniel put a hand on his shoulder. Randy stepped past both of them, eyes hard on the tracks. "Then we don't stop," Randy said. "He's close."