Concealed Intentions: Day 10

Word Count: 60,128

Summary of Events:

Borden set out under the cover of predawn darkness on his trek to rescue Honour, following the banks of the Fraser River out of Prince George. Nadia found Horea waiting for her again after work and, still with a measure of hesitation, allowed him to accompany her home, although she was disappointed that Vitaly was still too busy. Borden sat watching the small fire he'd built, having finished his supper and his day's hiking, and thought about all of his past wilderness experience —which he had a lot of . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Yet, for all his wilderness time, Borden hadn’t encountered a lot of wildlife, or, at least, a lot of wildlife that might like to have him for lunch.

He’d seen hordes of bighorn sheep, mountain goats, moose, deer, elk, eagles, hawks, and other wildlife, but even when he’d seen the carnivorous ones, he’d either been safely in a vehicle, or far enough away that the animal wasn’t likely to see him at all.

This included his one and only bear encounter, where he and Dad had seen the bear across about the narrowest part of Williston Lake from the campground they’d been staying at — one of the nearest campgrounds to home and the one they’d visited the most — drinking from the lake before lumbering on.

With the naked eye they’d been able to see the bear pretty well, but Dad had also been carrying his binoculars, which had allowed them to look closer at the bear, which Dad had identified to him as a male grizzly, as he’d been rough-looking and scarred from many battles.

Having been studying the early history of Canada — basically, when Europeans had arrived and started writing stuff down — at the time, Borden had decided it sounded fitting to call the bear Many Battles, as he was sure a native brave would’ve.

By now Borden was likely going to be running into Many Battles’ grandchildren if he was going to run into any bears. Dad had told him Many Battles had looked to be quite an old bear, and Borden had been eight or nine that year.

It was almost twenty years ago that had happened. Borden shook his head and added a couple more branches to his dwindling fire. How fast time could fly with some things, while with others it dragged eternally.

His time in prison had felt like decades without even being one decade, while he still remembered looking through Dad’s binoculars at the rough, scarred Many Battles like it was yesterday.

As cool as it’d been to see a bear, Borden had no such hopes for this trek, after all, he was barred from owning guns, and it wasn’t hunting season. He did have several sturdy knives and a machete with him, as well as bear spray — even if the product sounded ludicrous, he’d heard tell it worked, and if he couldn’t have guns, then silly-sounding bear spray it was — as preventative measures, but he hoped that they were so preventative that they didn’t even have to be considered for use.

In fact, he hoped that if bears smelled him — or any carnivorous wildlife smelled him for that matter — they smelled that he had knives and knew how to use them and wouldn’t dare cross him.

Honestly, Borden hoped his worst enemies on this trek would be men. He didn’t want to have to fend off wildlife, he just wanted to pass through their territory as cover to get to and from territory claimed by men.