Savage Nature - Christine Feehan [131]
It was strange running in formation. She heard the pounding of her own heart as well as her breathing, and the only footsteps she heard were hers. The men picked up her exact rhythm, running in single file, feet hitting the ground in exact unison with each other and with her. After a while it made her want to vary her rhythm just to see if they would somehow anticipate her change-up.
Chiding herself for thinking childish thoughts, she scanned the ground ahead of her, using the strange night vision her leopard provided. She knew this area of the swamp inside and out, she’d practically spent her childhood here, searching for nests to photograph and often hiding from any adult who was silly enough to try to find her. She’d perfected her tracking skills all through this particular strip of land. She knew every hazard and where the gators liked to hang out. She knew the sounds and the warnings.
She picked up speed and swept through the thickest grove of trees, knowing the gators didn’t inhabit this particular area. It was too far from the water and their mud slides. Tangles of vines and roots were their biggest hazard, so they could move quite a bit faster. Once outside the heavy growth, she should be able to catch a glimpse of the boat lights and determine which direction they were going. She hoped the boat would veer away from Mercier land, but she had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to get that lucky.
As the thick grove of trees gave way to brush, she slowed her pace just a little, signaling they were moving into a hazardous area. She kept her footsteps very precise as she jogged over the ground, wincing with every footfall. Water pooled, turning the surface to a mixture of mud and floating debris. The rain wasn’t helping, raising the water table as inevitably as the tides did. Praying the men were as precise in their steps, she led them through a very narrow strip of hazards where one wrong step would take them under the thin crust to the water below.
The men followed, slowly as she did, stepping one after another in the exact spot as the man in front of him. They watched the ground, trusting her to guide them through safely. In a way, it was somewhat exhilarating, even as the weight of the responsibility for their lives was crushing. This section of the swamp was honeycombed with thin spots and holes covered with tangles of vines where an unwary person could easily fall through. She’d mapped the way in her mind, but the chance of the ground eroding was always there.
She breathed a sigh of relief as they came up on the edge of the cypress grove. She held up her hand and everyone stopped instantly. She waited a heartbeat, her eyes straining to see the small open space through the trees where in the distance a boat would sweep around the bend and could be seen for no more than a moment. She had timed the pace in her head, slowing down when needed to ensure the lives of the men in her care, but setting a fast enough tempo that they would be able to catch a glimpse of the boat and the direction it went.
One second later, a blurring light blinked in the waterway, holding to her left. She knew, with a sinking heart, that the boat was traveling into the canal that led to the Tregre-Mercier swamps.
“We’re heading into the reeds,” she whispered to Drake, knowing with their hearing the others would be able to heed her warning. “Stay close, but keep an eye out for gators. They’ll be in the water. We’re goin’ to move fast through here.”
Her heart was pounding. She had a very healthy respect for alligators. She gripped her rifle and took the first step into the reed-choked water. The water went up to her thigh. She took a deep breath and kept moving steadily through the murky water, not fast, not slow, feeling her way with each step. Her night vision allowed her to see the dark loglike shapes