Chapter 13 - The Bear’s Sanctuary
The gunshot echoed off the granite cliffs, rolling away into the vast wilderness until only the soft crunch of snow remained. Falcon dropped the empty rifle into the drift.
He turned toward the high ridge. Every step felt like walking through deep water with lead boots. The bullet hole in his chest whistled softly with every ragged breath, blood bubbling around the wound. His vision swam with gray spots, the edges of the forest blurring into dark, waving specters.
Not yet, he commanded his failing body. Not until she is safe.
He dragged himself up the steep trail, using tree trunks and frozen roots to pull his weight upward. He followed the faint marks on the bark, climbing higher into the freezing wind that tore at his torn shirt. The blood trail he left behind was already being swallowed by the relentless mountain blizzard.
After what felt like an eternity of agony, he reached the narrow cleft of the bear cave high on the limestone bluffs. The wind howled against the rock face, but inside the narrow opening, the air was still and smelled of dry dust and ancient stone.
"Rosie," Falcon called, his voice barely louder than a rasping whisper. "Rosie... little bird."
From the deepest shadow behind a fallen boulder, a small shape moved. Rosie stepped into the dim moonlight filtering through the cave mouth. Her small hands gripped the hunting knife he had given her, her face smudged with soot and tears.
When she saw him, the knife clattered onto the limestone floor. She ran to him, throwing her small arms around his waist.
"Papa! You're bleeding! You're hurt bad!"
Falcon sank to his knees, his strength finally deserting him entirely. He leaned his back against the cold cave wall, his head rolling back. He pulled her against his uninjured side, wrapping his coat around her shivering body.
"It's over, Rosie," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut. "The bad men... won't ever come again."
"Papa, wake up," she cried, slapping his rough, cold cheeks with her small gloved hands. "You have to get up! We have to light a fire!"
"No fire," Falcon murmured, a faint, peaceful smile touching his cracked lips for the first time in six years. "Just rest... just let Papa rest a minute."
Rosie pulled Elena's silver pocket watch from her pocket, pressing it against his bleeding chest. "You promised, Papa. You promised you wouldn't leave."
Falcon looked into her wide, hazel eyes—so fierce, so full of the woman who had died in the glass house six years ago. He summoned every remaining drop of iron in his soul, his calloused fingers weakly curling around hers.
May you like
"I promised," he whispered. "Hold the watch, Rosie. Keep it running."
His hand slipped from hers, falling heavy onto the stone floor, and his eyes closed.
