Shouldering my pack, I began exploring the rest of the building. The empty rooms seemed never ending. Then, I came to a set of heavy double-doors.
I pushed them open and stared at the enormous space I’d discovered. Two old stone fireplaces, blackened by soot and age, were the room’s source of heat. I frowned, thinking back to the rooms I’d checked, and couldn’t recall one outlet or heating vent. How had the people who lived here kept warm in winter?
Along the interior wall to the left of the main doors, a rough counter set with a small stone trough and an old hand pump gave me a good indication of the lifestyle of those who’d once lived here. I stepped into the room and pushed the doors closed behind me. There weren’t as many cobwebs in this room but just as many leaves littered the floor near the room’s broken window.
I walked over to the pump and started pumping. A loud, metallic groan filled the air; and though I cringed at the noise, I didn’t stop. My arm grew tired by the time any water came out. It ran brown at first then clear. I scooped a handful and sniffed it. It smelled fine and was cold in my palm. I tried a bit and smiled at the fresh, crisp taste.
As I pulled the water container from my backpack, I heard a distant howl. The sound didn’t scare me. I rather liked it. It meant I wasn’t alone.
I set the container in the sunken trough and started pumping again. Water splashed the top of it, almost knocking it over. I kept the handle moving with one hand and held the container steady with the other. It took a few minutes, but I filled it.
After the handle fell for the last time and the water stopped splashing, I thought I heard something. As I quietly capped the container and slid it into my pack, I listened. Slight noises reached me. Nothing definite. It could have been the building settling; or because of the racket of the pump, I might have drawn the curious attention of whatever had howled.
It didn’t overly concern me. Animals were generally cautious around humans. I slipped my arms through the straps of the backpack.
A noise came from the other side of the double doors. I froze. Perhaps it was a wild critter looking for a nice place to stay just as I had.
I crossed the large area and pulled the latch of another door I had yet to explore. Sunlight poured through the opening. I stepped outside, gladly leaving whatever it was to roam as it might. The latch fell into place; and a moment later, a loud thud echoed in the empty room. My eyes widened, and I started to back away.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the faint sound of snuffling carried through the broken window. Something bumped against the other side of the door. I jumped. What was in there? It didn’t sound like a little critter. It sounded big.
A howl filled the air.
Dear God. A coyote or wolf.
I turned and ran.
Glass shattered behind me. I didn’t glance back but pushed myself hard. It didn’t matter. I’d only made it halfway to the path when something struck me from behind. It was solid and heavy and brought me to the ground.
Dry grass and dirt abraded my cheek, and my breath left me at the sudden impact. I tried to get to my hands and knees, but something weighted me down. A growl filled my ear, stopping my attempt. I brought my arms up to cover my head.
The weight on me shifted as another growl, not far away, joined the first. Two of them? I’d been so worried about people discovering me I never thought to worry about animals. They weren’t supposed to act like this. I’d been sleeping under the stars undisturbed for weeks.
The sound of their snarls escalated. Taking a risk, I lifted my head for a peek while I remained cowered on the ground. I saw a furred leg. I shifted a little further, and a large furry head came into view.
One of the creatures stood above me, long legs boxing me in, as another one stalked it, just ten feet away. I lifted my head further, catching the attention of the one circling. Its gaze met mine briefly, and I trembled. Of all the ways I imagined my life ending when I left home, I’d never considered death by wolf attack.
I moved slightly, trying to position myself so I could spring to my feet and run if the opportunity presented itself. My backpack bumped against the beast above me and distracted it. The newcomer lunged forward. The two clashed together, forelegs locked and mouths open. One of them stepped on my lower back, its claws digging through my shirt. As soon as the paw moved, I scrambled away.
Neither noticed me as I struggled to my knees and then my feet. I darted toward the trees, thinking to climb one.
A high-pitched yip sounded behind me followed by silence then the sound of paws thrumming against the dirt. Once again, I was brought down from behind. Only this time, the thing dove for my neck. I grunted as its teeth pierced my skin. I thought of my mom and dad as tears stung my eyes.