Chapter 11: Unexpected Obstacle

Reid finds himself settling into a half run, half lope he finds easier to sustain, like a workhorse so accustomed to his

job he doesn't have to think about it anymore. It's so easy in fact, he feels like he is on autopilot, the ache in his

legs and feet so familiar by now he hardly notices at all. And, in fact, would be thrown off rhythm if the pain went

away.

The night slides by a determined step at a time. At one point he starts awake and realizes he has been dozing while

running, his body taking over the necessary adjustments needed to make it through the thin underbrush. Not good. Not even

remotely good. Anything could happen while he's in that state and he'd miss it, probably run right into it without

knowing what he was doing. It frightens him enough to make him stop and take a break.

A new patch of underbrush in a new part of the forest, and yet it all feels the same to him. Reid devours another power

bar, happy to have fuel, but so tired it doesn't really make much of a difference. He has to find a way to get his edge

back, the sharpness that keeps him alert and ready to run for real. Nothing comes to him, no plan or way of forcing

himself to focus. Coffee would be nice. Sleep in a real bed. After a shower. And a big, hot dinner. He jerks himself out

of his daydream, so close to the real thing he wonders if he was actually sleeping this time.

Reid allows himself another five minutes before moving on.

When he steps out onto the path, swinging his arms and shaking his head in an effort to keep himself alert, he doesn't

notice until he turns to move on that he isn't alone.

Reid freezes, face-to-face with a mountain lion. The reality of it is so absurd, he laughs.

All this time he has been terrified of the hunters and forgotten there must be natural predators in the forest as well.

Bears, wolves, even giant and deadly cats like the one who glares at him are all as real a danger as anything else he

faces. It's painfully obvious this is the case as his weary mind tries to decide what to do.

The cougar watches him, long tail twitching slowly back and forth, slitted eyes locked with his. The moonlight turns her

coat into smooth silver, the ripple of muscle settling as she hunches forward, hindquarters tensed for the pounce. Reid's

exhausted mind finds it ironic that it is likely he will now die from a big cat attack and wonders if the hunters will

allow her to keep her kill if they find her with his body.

Her muscles settle, not even her tail in motion any longer. Her haunches drop this time as she falls very still. Reid

finds her fascinating and stunningly beautiful crouched there in a pool of moonlight. He can't for the life of him muster

any fear. She is amazing and majestic and falling to her will be a death he can accept.

A hunter howls in the near distance. The cat's attention snaps from Reid and turns toward the sound. Her huge ears

swivel, catching the last of the echo while her whiskers ripple. She backs up a step, shaking her head, ears flattening

as she hums a low growl in the back of her throat.

"You don't like them either, huh?" Reid is startled by the sound of his own voice. One of her ears twitches toward him

but her focus, as intense as it was while she plotted him for dinner, is far away.

Her growl breaks off into a humming hiss. She disappears into the forest with one last flip of her tail. Reid stands

there, hands shaking, but smiling after her. "Go get them, sweetheart."

He has to move. Wouldn't do to waste the gift she gave him and make himself such an easy target. Reid spins and starts

out again. As soon as he does, he knows something is wrong with the ground. But he is too late to stop it when his foot

slips. He falls, his arms flailing around him, trying to catch something, anything, to save him. His desperate grab only

meets empty air. It seems to take forever before he lands on the ground below with a solid thud.

Reid gasps up at what he can see of the sky. At least the dirt under him is flat. Small consolation as he battles to draw

air into his compressed lungs. A scattering of branches and leaves patters down on top of him, littering him with debris.

He doesn't bother to swipe it away, instead studying the view above him while his body recovers. That can't be right. He

can only see a small patch of stars.

He lies there for a while, getting his wind back, letting his body rest. As he does, he looks around, turning his head to

the right and left. Dirt walls. More dirt walls. Debris he dragged down with him. A few branches, still heavy with leaves

or needles. And him.

When he finally makes it to his feet, he approaches the sides of the hole. He feels the crumbling clay with his panic

rising fresh to torment him.

The pit is manmade. The dirt is still reasonably damp, as though it was just dug. When Reid looks up again, he sees the

criss-cross net of woven branches that remain at the surface, a camouflaged covering. It explains the ones that lie

scattered around him.

A trap, then. Maybe it was intended for the mountain lion. It could be the hunters liked all kinds of prey. But whatever

the reason for it, Reid is in it and he has to get out. Now.

He digs his fingers into the soil and hoists himself up, the toes of his sneakers slipping across the moist earth. At

first the going is very hard, the dirt so crumbly he can't get purchase. Before too long he is sweating and wrung out

from the effort. But about half way up the fifteen or so feet he finds roots exposed and bits of rock, making the climb

go much more quickly.

Panting, muscles vibrating from the effort to go faster, he is near the top and can see the edge of the moon. As he

reaches for the lip of the hole, a hunter howls. It is so close it triggers his instinctual panic, sending his already

taxed muscles into spasms. Reid throws all his weight onto his reaching hand and grasps the side of the gap, heart

pounding his terror in his ears as he commits his escape to the fragile earth.

His hand grasps, grips. Holds his body up for a moment. And then it lets go, the thin, grassy roots within giving way

with a terrible ripping sound, and he is falling again, out of control, tumbling back to the bottom.

This time Reid lies there for much longer, ready to quit. It's not fair and he can't do it anymore. He won't. Reid has

done everything he possibly can to survive, done his absolute best. No one could ask more of him. No one.

When the next howl comes, it is almost on top of him, echoing down into the bottom of the hole, the taunting voice

swirling around him on a playful wind. It drives Reid to his feet one last time. He may be lost, the hunters may get him,

but he refuses to die in a pit, caught like a rat in a trap.

He digs in and tries again.

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