Shadow on the Moon Read Free Page A

shoulder and applied
gentle pressure to the gas pedal.
    The Ranger didn't budge. Dana upped
the pressure. Nothing happened. As she steadied herself for one more try, the
terrible wail came again. So loud, so close, it seemed just outside her door.
She spun toward the windshield. She'd forgotten the lantern! And in the
perimeter of its spilled light, a blurred shape moved with superhuman speed.
    Dana slammed down on the gas pedal.
    The Ranger lurched — once, twice,
then again. She let up, stomped down again. The vehicle shuddered, broke loose,
and careened back at drag racing speed.
    Dana instinctively hit the brakes,
all the while knowing it was the wrong thing to do. Brakes squealed, tires
screeched. The Ranger zigzagged, then spun. She battled the steering wheel,
trying to force it in the direction of the skid, but it defied her control.
Behind her, the wall of snow loomed larger and larger until it filled her
rearview mirror.
    Like a great white shark, the wall
opened up and sucked in the four-by-four like a minnow until it jerked to a
halt against the skeleton of solid earth. The jolt threw Dana against the
steering wheel, propelled her up and into the windshield, then rebounded her
back into the seat, where she slumped like a rag doll.
    Her head roared with pain. The
coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Her vision grew fuzzy. Within the
beams of the headlights, evergreen branches swayed and dark, unnameable shadows
danced. Blinking, she tried to bring the sights into focus. She felt
light-headed and giddy.
    As a strangled moan escaped her
lips, her world quaked. She watched numbly as snow slid down the windshield. At
first the avalanche only covered the hood, then, gaining momentum, it dumped
huge chunks of snow on the roof, where they clattered, bounced off the glass,
and slid down the fenders. Dana screamed.
    Then the windows were filled with
white. All was deadly quiet. The only light inside the car came from the dimly
glowing instrument panel.
    Who will protect my wolves? Dana
wondered as she passed into unconsciousness.
    And from the shadows of the forest,
a pair of gold-green eyes witnessed her misfortune.

 

 
 
 
 
    Chapter Two

 
 
    Beneath a towering pine stirred a
man as huge and solid as the tree trunk that sheltered him. A long wool
overcoat hung to his knees over heavy leggings that were tucked into bulky,
serviceable boots, and his face was hidden in the abyss of a deep hood. Each
item was of a nondescript dark color, not quite black or navy blue or gray,
allowing him to melt into the shadows.
    What had possessed him to come this
close to a major road so early in the evening? He knew better. But he'd heard
the screams so often of late, could barely abide them, and a night such as this
was made for death. They would be out, seeking lost travelers, and he felt
somehow compelled to stop them.
    He'd been observing the female for
some time, had seen her purposeful and confident
    movements. Had seen her become first alarmed, then panicked,
causing her to react so unwisely. Was she even now trying to claw her way out
like a snared rabbit? Surely, she was every bit as defenseless, every bit as
doomed. Without help, she wouldn't last till dawn.
    Her vehicle had been so fully
engulfed by the snowbank that only the hood and grille remained exposed. The
beam of its headlights, still vibrating from aftershock, quivered on the road's
frozen surface and made the falling snow look like a shimmering curtain. The
front passenger wheel spun on its axle, several inches off the ground.
Otherwise, he detected no movement.
    Nearby, an owl hooted a warning. A
rodent squealed, then scrambled through the forest carpet. The night fell into
deep stillness, save for the purr of the engine and the whap-whap-whap of the
airborne tire. He strained to hear, anticipating what was to come. Soon a
rustle arose from the underbrush. A soulful wail followed.
    Why did those creatures howl so
incessantly?
    Knowing it was a