Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

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Chapter Eight: The Diversion

By the time he reached the horses, Li was relieved to discover that no one was with them. All of the campers and counselors had been assembled in the camp to take a head count and make sure no one else was missing, before they broke up into search parties. He would be able to leave without being seen.

            He was slightly out of breath as he made his way down the line to Jester, but he controlled his breathing in long slow breaths, the way Uncle String had taught him as they had rowed the old fishing boat across the lake on cool summer mornings for exercise. The stitch that threatened to cramp his side eased somewhat, and he spoke quietly to the gelding as he slipped between Jester and Stevie's mare, Blackbird.

            "Come on, Jest," He said, grabbing the gelding's bridle from the saddle horn and slipping it over the animal's head. "I need your help. We've got to make a run for it."

            Jester was reluctant to leave the herd, but Li prodded him firmly with his heels, and set the horse down the ravine towards the rocks. He hadn't gone far when Stevie's cries split the air. Li checked his watch. Five minutes. Good old Stevie, right on time.

            He followed the trail they had come in on for a few hundred yards before he spotted the place where the trail split off, and a steep rocky game trail led further down into the rocks, rather than out onto the desert plains. He and Stevie had explored it the day before on foot. It was rocky, and steep, and the counselors had forbidden them to ride it, but Li had a feeling that that had more to do with the inexperience of the riders than the horses. Jester did not look thrilled about it, but neither did he balk as Li gave him his head and leaned back in the saddle to help the horse's footing as he made his way down the rocky slope.

            The horse took his time making his way down the trail, scuffling and skidding a bit as he did so, but his footing held. After a few minutes, the path leveled out, and found them walking a narrow ledge with a drop of perhaps twenty five feet below them, and a looming overhang of rock above them. He checked his watch again. Twenty five minutes since he'd ridden out of the ravine. They would be coming after him soon.

            The ledge they were riding along widened out and split again. The overhang above them disappeared. Li stopped the horse and studied the trail carefully, looking for sign of the animals that had used it. The upper trail was broader and seemed better going, but there was little sign of animal tracks upon it, save for a few rabbits. The lower trail that ran along the ledge was thinner and a bit steeper, but there was evidence of deer and larger animals. Li decided that if a deer was able to travel the path, then so might a horse, and hoping that the animals knew something he didn't, he set Jester once more on the rocky trail down.

            This time the trail was even more treacherous, and Li held his breath as Jester stumbled and skidded, trying to find purchase on the rocky ground. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on both horse and rider as they struggled to make their way down the ledge without losing their balance. After what seemed an eternity, the trail leveled out and widened again. Li halted the horse for a moment to let both of them catch their breath. He leaned over the gelding's neck and gave the horse a fierce hug.

            "Good job, fella." He said quietly. "We're almost out of here."

            Frankly, he wasn't entirely sure exactly where 'here' was, but he knew they had somehow managed to make it almost halfway down the side of the bluff. If he could get to the bottom, there was a stream where they could get water, and if he was able to find a path that followed along it, it would take them deeper into the canyon, where he might be able to hide and rest. He had his compass and a topographical map of the area in his saddlebag. He knew there was a truck stop only a few miles away. They had passed within site of it when they had ridden in here two days before. He would hide, and rest and wait until dark. Then he and Jester would try to find their way out of here and ride to the truck stop. He would call Uncle String he told himself, and everything would be ok.

            Unfortunately, that quiet little voice inside him chose that inopportune moment to remind him of what the man who called himself Locke had said. There has been an accident.

            "It's not true," Li told himself, but the fear that was creeping over him would not go away. "He was lying." Li said firmly, trying to convince himself. He reached down and patted the horse's neck. "You'll see, Jester. He was lying. Uncle String is fine. We'll make our way into town and call him and he'll come get us. Everything will be all right. You'll see."

            Jason Locke stood at the top of the rocky draw and looked down at the group of camp counselors who were clustered around the fallen boy. The boy, in question, was screaming his head off, and it was enough to give Locke a splitting head ache. Jenkins scrambled back up the slope to where he waited; the agent's impeccable black suit had collected dust and wrinkles in the effort.

            "Nothing." Jenkins spat. "No sign of the Hawke kid, and he says he doesn't know where he's at. They got split up on their way back to camp."

            "He's lying." Major Mike Rivers observed.

            Locke turned to see Rivers kneeling by a patch of sandy ground at the top of the slope. "What do you mean?"

            Rivers pointed at the edge of the slope. "This is where he went down. There are footprints here. –Two sets of them."

            "The Hawke kid was with him." Locke stated flatly, his glance skittering over the tracks on the ground.

            "That would be a logical assumption." Rivers said, he studied the tracks more closely and frowned.

            "What?" Locke said, catching onto his expression.

            "Look here," Rivers said, pointing out the tracks at the edge of the slope. "This is right where he went down. There's no sign of skidding or slipping. The track is perfectly crisp. He didn't fall."

            "You think he was pushed?" This came from Jenkins, who had dusted himself off and was also studying the tracks with interest.

            Rivers looked up, his eyes glinting in amusement. "I think he jumped."

            Caitlin fine tuned the long-range listening device, honing in even closer on the men's conversation.

            "They planned it."

            She recognized the voice. It was the same man who had answered the phone the night she'd tried to contact Archangel. What was his name? …Locke.

            "I'd say so."  This was the man who had discovered the tracks. "It's a diversion," the man continued. "So that the other one could get away."

            "Way to go, kid!" Gifford exclaimed.

            Caitlin sighed in relief. "They don't have him," she said. "Not yet, at least."

            "Where would he go?" Gifford asked her.

            "Wherever he could hide," Caitlin said. "He probably saw them coming in the chopper. He'll know they'll try to look for him from the air. He'll probably head for the ravines; try to lose himself into the rocks."

            "He'll go into the rocks," Rivers said, rising to his feet and heading back in the direction of the helicopter. "He saw us coming and knew something wasn't right. He must have overheard us. He and his buddy set this whole thing up to buy him some time to get into the canyon."

            "We'll find him." Locke said confidently, "he can't have gone far."

            "Maybe," River's tone was grim, "he's a smart kid, and his uncle's a pilot. He knows what the terrain will look like from the air, he'll know how to hide from us."

            "He can't hide forever." Locke returned, smoothly.

            Mike Rivers hesitated, turning his gaze to the jagged red spires and ravines that thrust themselves up from Red Rock Mesa. He had read Hawke's file. He had read about the kid. Neither Stringfellow Hawke, nor his nephew had had it very easy. Both were survivors. Somehow, he didn't think any of this was going to be as simple as Jason Locke seemed to think.