Page 17 of Alaska Lights

I shake my head. “It’s faint. He’s still far. I smell smoke too.”

“Smoke? I don’t smell smoke.”

I grin. “With age comes better abilities. I haven’t lost them all yet. I’ll race you. Yah!” I kick Mustache Man’s side and bring my reins down on his neck.

He bolts forward, his grey body leaping over a fallen log.

“Cheater!” Soren shouts from behind me, knowing Bango Bucko won’t have a chance in hell to catch up to us.

Mustache Man is one of the fastest and most rugged horses I’ve ever had. He loves a challenge, while Bango Bucko prefers a wide-open field.

I laugh when Soren slips off his saddle when his horse skids to a stop before the fallen log. He soars over the horse’s head, landing with a hard smack right on his back in the mud.

“Damn it, Bango,” he groans.

I hold my hand against my stomach; the laughter bubbles up my throat to the point there’s no stopping it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve found something so funny. Granted, it’s at the expense of someone else.

He’ll be fine.

“Thanks for the offer to help me up.” Soren gets to his feet, his arms awkwardly hanging by his sides. He flings them down towards the ground, mud splattering against the trees and Soren’s jeans.

“Anytime.” I roll my lips together to stop myself from laughing when he climbs on Bango Bucko, his entire backside caked in mud.

“Race isn’t over though!” Soren whistles and Bango Bucko shoots forward, running up the steep incline. “Sucker.”

I gently kick Mustache Man’s side, and he leaps into action, bolting through the mud. Bango Bucko struggles, sliding down the steep incline. We are neck and neck, both of us a laughing mess even though we are on a serious journey to rescue someone.

We have to find the joy somewhere.

Joy.

Something I’ve long forgotten about. Damn, it felt good to laugh.

Soren gets ahead of me and gets to the top, Bango Bucko rearing on his hind legs in celebration, which throws Soren off his back.

This time, I’m not laughing. That’s a long fall. Vampires can survive a lot, but not impalement through the heart. I leap off Mustache Man, and my boots sink into the ground, the mud gripping the soles. The rain falls harder, thunder rolling closer; the ground becomes slicker.

“Soren! Soren! Call out to me. Are you okay?” I crawl to the top of the incline, mud caked against my palms. “Soren!” I stand on the narrow ledge and wipe my hands on my jeans.

I analyze from left to right, giving every square inch of space my attention. “Soren!” His name echoes through the maze. “Whoa,” I freeze when I see pieces of the plane strung along the ground in the distance.

“Alaska! I think we’re close!” Soren shouts, stomping the fire out so it no longer burns the plants.

No shit we’re close. To the right is a long-broken path of trees, and the tail of the plane is lying on the ground, our supplies everywhere. Some of it can be salvaged. That’s a relief.

“Soren. You stay here and pick through the debris. See what we can save. I’m going to try to find the pilot.”

“Sounds like a plan. If you’re gone too long, I’ll come find you.”

I turn to see the horses behind me, flicking their tails. “Stay with Soren. I’ll be back. Mustache Man, don’t follow me. I’ll be fine.” I pat his neck, and he nibbles his lips on my chin in response.

I slide down parts of the hill, trudging through the mud and using the trees as support so I don’t fall. Not that it would matter, as I’m soaked with mud at this point.

All of this for a guy I don’t know.

I follow the scent of blood. It’s ruined with the smell of fuel and smoke, but there’s an underlying aroma tickling my senses. Every step brings me closer to the unknown.

Venturing further into the forest, the trees become denser, the shadows darker. Only faint rays of light pierce through the branches. Tall plants tickle my palms. New growth appears on the bark where I’ve touched, bright green moss clinging to the burned vegetation.