Jeff had run for a long time, wondering as he went if he’d somehow missed them. Had they accidentally wandered off the road into the woods? But every time he was sure he must have gone too far and passed them, he’d catch the trail of that feminine scent.
It was very, very faint. She had to be bundled up against the snow. But it was there.
In his leopard form, he could also tell that she was terrified. Her scent held hints of desperation and fear. Those hints spurred him on, driving him to find her before it was too late.
As a park ranger, Jeff had to deal with lost hikers all the time, and sometimes even young children. He always worked his hardest to get them back safe, but he knew that staying calm was the most important thing. No one was helped by anxiety and fear.
But this time was different. He didn’t know why, but he knew that this woman could not die. He would find her, and her baby, and he would keep them safe.
He kept running.
Finally, after what felt like years, he saw something. It was a shape in the road—not a walking shape, but a stationary one. As he got closer, he could see that it was a person who had fallen to their hands and knees.
He bounded forward, catching that scent again as he went. This was her.
Jeff came to a halt several feet from her, so that he wouldn’t scare her by dashing right up next to her, and approached slowly.
She looked up, and saw him.
Her eyes were a deep, dark, blue, and when they met his, he forgot what he was doing. He stared at her across several feet of whirling snow.
“Hello,” she whispered.
Hello, he thought back. He padded forward until he was close enough to touch.
She reached out and laid a hand on his fur. He shivered at the touch, at the feel of her fingers on him.
“Please,” she mouthed, her voice so soft that even his leopard’s ears could barely hear her over the howling wind. “Please, will you save my baby?”
That shocked him out of his daze, just as she started to slump to the ground. He got his leopard body under hers just in time to ease her down on her side, rather than letting her fall forward onto the baby.
Please let her be all right. If she was injured, or badly hypothermic...
But her core would be warmer than normal, he reminded himself, because of the baby.
The baby—wearing a pink hat, so probably a girl—was strapped to the woman’s chest, zipped up inside her coat. When Jeff nosed the coat open enough to check, the little girl was just blinking her eyes open, peering up at him. The little pocket of warmth inside the coat seemed to have kept her safe, although she had to be cold.
He needed to get these two somewhere warm.
&n
bsp; But where? He was hours away from his own house, and he wasn’t even in Glacier proper, but a few miles south. He was definitely too far from the nearest ranger station. It was miles even to the nearest gas station.
There was no cell phone reception out here, and he didn’t have his ranger’s radio with him. Only clothing shifted, not objects like phones or radios, and he wasn’t on official business anyway, so he’d left his behind.
But people had cabins out here in the mountains.
No one would be in any of them at this time of year, but...Jeff closed his eyes and placed himself in his mental map of the area.
The park was his territory, after all, and he knew where everyone was in his territory.
And there was a cabin not too far away.
Jeff took a step back, ready to shift so that he could lift the woman up. He’d need to be human to carry her.
Only then did he realize that he’d approached her in his leopard form. Why had he done that? Ordinarily he would shift back to human before helping anyone in trouble. No one wanted reported snow leopard sightings anywhere near here, after all.
She’d been on the verge of passing out, he reminded himself. It wasn’t likely she’d remember anything. And she hadn’t seen him shift.