Chapter ElevenTim Martin’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his shoulders drooped with weariness. He’d heard nothing after the second shot twenty minutes earlier. It was dark and he’d not prepared a suitable place to sleep. He shivered as he felt the cold night air seep through his clothes. Should he risk a fire? Could he start one? He’d had all the training and now it was time to put it to the test.
He tipped his water bottle almost vertical and sucked hard, his Adam’s apple frantically working to swallow non-existent water. The empty flask summed up his predicament. He cursed himself for not taking more bottles when he had the chance. He needed to get a grip and apply his training. Otherwise, he would die.
He was the local Forest Ranger and had been a respected and well-liked
