“We need to keep moving,” Harley said.
“I know!” Oh, he hadn’t meant to bark. “Listen, just give us a second here.”
A whine escaped the dog.
“He’s scared.” Obvious statement, but his mind had frozen. If Orlando wouldn’t track...
Movement caught his eye. Harley, kneeling in the snow, Orlando’s ball in her hand. “Come here, handsome.”
The Bernedoodle’s ears pricked, black-tipped points swiveling toward her voice. She rolled the ball between her hands, bounced it between her grip. His tail lifted slightly, a tentative wag.
“That’s it.” She baited him, then tossed it. He caught it, and she grabbed the rope and let him tug. He bent into it, shook his head, growling.
Huh.
“Good boy,” she said. And then snagged the ball from his mouth and threw it.
Orlando bounded after it, flying through the snow.
What?
The dog found it and returned it to her, his entire body wagging, his natural confidence returning.
“Okay, buddy, fun’s over.” When she tucked the ball away in her pocket, Orlando stayed close, those intelligent eyes fixed on her face, waiting.
She caught his muzzle gently between her hands. “I’m going to need you to find my friend Winter.”
Something in her voice, a calmness in it, simply slid into Jericho’s bones, centered him. Calm. Certain. Like the whole world had narrowed to this moment, this connection.
Orlando’s ears flickered forward. His tail wagged, and he started to jump around, anxious.
And when she stood, he lifted his nose to the air.
“Find,” Jericho said.
Orlando circled again and picked up the scent.
Jericho turned to Harley. “Who are you, the dog whisperer?”
She glanced at him, smiled. “Sometimes all we need is someone to remind us who we are.” Then she winked and moved away.
The wilderness stretched around them, beautiful and merciless. But for the first time since they’d landed, the knot in Jericho’s chest loosened.
Felt almost like hope slid in.
Orlando’s bell jangled ahead, a beacon in the gathering storm. Harley moved with surprising grace through the deep snow, her steps sure despite yesterday’s injuries. Or maybe because of them—she’d always been strongest when hurting.
Huh.He hadn’t really thought about that until now.
Jericho kept pace, dividing his attention between the disappearing dog and the woman who shouldn’t be out here. Who shouldn’t be anywhere but resting, recovering.
“Did you hear that?” She stopped so suddenly, he nearly ran into her.
The wind played tricks up here, turning tree groans into voices, branch cracks into gunshots. But there—
“Help! Anyone!”
Orlando burst back through the trees, snow flying from his coat. He made a beeline for Harley, dancing in front of her until she pulled out the ball. The moment she did, he grabbed it and took off again, bearing right toward a stand of old-growth spruce.