Free Wild Ice by Rachelle Vaughn Page A

the rising panic in her throat, she sat back down and tried to formulate a plan. Remain calm, Lauren tried to think. That was the first rule in a crisis, right? It was at least a mile from here to the cottage. There was no way she could make it that far even if she had crutches.
    She looked around for a branch or a stick or something she could use as a walking stick. What she found was nothing bigger than a twig and certainly nothing that would support her weight as she hobbled back to the cottage.
    She tossed the twig aside and Buddy lunged for it. He shoved it at her and she stroked his yellow fur. When he realized she didn’t want to play fetch, he dropped it on the ground with a snort.
    What was she going to do? Hop on one foot all the way back home? She could try to crawl, but her foot would drag behind her and hurt just as bad as walking on it.
    The refuge trails were clear across the other side of the marsh and this trail wasn’t used by anyone but her. Even if she screamed for help she’d have nothing to show for it but a hoarse voice. The refuge office was still closed up tight and the trails still gated from cars. No one else was out here and if someone was, they were trespassing and probably not the kind of person she’d want helping her anyway.
    Lauren slid off her backpack and after digging through it, she remembered she’d forgotten her phone at the cottage. There probably wasn’t even a signal way out here on the trail anyway.
    Remain calm . There was no one to wait for. No one knew she was missing. Her mother might send a search party for her after a few days of not returning her calls, but she’d probably interpret her daughter’s absence as Lauren exerting her independence.
    A turkey vulture circled overhead. Probably plotting how to make a meal out of her.
    Remain calm .
    At least it wouldn’t be getting dark for a little while. She still had time. Time for what? She didn’t know, but she’d figure something out. She had to. There were no other options.
    The big yellow dog whined and nuzzled Lauren’s hand with his nose.
    “ Can you go get help?”
    He nudged her leg and she winced when the movement jostled her injured foot.
    “ Go and get help,” she encouraged him.
    She didn’t know where she wanted him to get help or who from, but it was better than sitting here and doing nothing. She had to at least try.
    “Go.” She made her voice sound excited , yet urgent in hopes it would convince him that, yes, he really did want to go and get help.
    He bounced on his feet and scampered back and forth as if he was urging her down the trail.
    “Go! Go get help!”
    He barked and finally sprinted off down the path.
    Go get help, Lassie. Timmy is stuck in the well.
    Lauren almost laughed out loud at how ridiculous it sounded. Sure, the dog was smart, but for all she knew he could just be going home—wherever that was—for some kibble and forget about her like yesterday’s chew toy.
    With Buddy gone, the trail seemed a little more intimidating. Normally, the sounds of the wetlands brought comfort to her, but right now they were a stark reminder that she was all alone.
    Weighing her options, s he flipped over onto her hands and knees and crawled until the pain forced her to stop. Pebbles dug into her knees and rocks poked through her socks. She rested for a few minutes, pulled her hair back into a braid, so it wouldn’t drag in the dirt, and then crawled a little further. When she was out of breath, she looked back to assess her progress. She had gone roughly fifty feet.
    Discouraged and exhausted, s he sat back down with a sigh. At this rate it would take her well into the next day to reach the cottage. And that was if she crawled throughout the night. Oh well. There wasn’t any other way.
    She took the water bottle from her backpack and took a drink. At least she had enough water to survive for days before the vultures would descend on her.
    Just when she was contemplating whether or not to