Here's a snippet from Forks in the Trail. My books can also be found in the Ipad book store.

An hour later he waded across the creek and headed on up the valley.

Several times over the next hour he sensed a presence and three times paused to look around. ‘Strange’, he thought, ‘I feel like I am being watched or followed. Must be my imagination’.

He wasn’t uneasy as his senses didn’t detect any threat, but the odd feeling persisted.

Once his body had warmed to the task of walking, he gradually increased his pace to a slow jog and was soon in a mile eating rhythm. He finally slowed and stopped and finding a convenient deadfall, he unloaded his pack and sat. He rummaged around in the bag and found the sandwiches that Teri had made. He ate one and put the other two back in the pack. The game trail he was still following had swung in close to the river and leaving his pack he strode over to the low bank and found a spot where he could access the water. Supported by his hands and arms he drank straight from the river. He pushed back on his haunches and started to rise when he looked slightly upstream and stared straight into the amber eyes of a large black wolf!

Roj froze, the wolf didn’t move but just stared back at him. Their eyes locked, there was no threat, there was just – them!

Finally the wolf blinked and , and did it nod? It stood up from the boulder it had chosen to sit on and turned and leapt to the ground in a single sliding motion and was gone! It was gone like it had never been.

Roj continued to stare for a full minute then slowly stood erect, he turned and walked slowly to his pack and automatically shouldered it and continued on, a bemused expression on his face.

He thought, ‘It was him, it is my wolf from that first night, he has been with me all this day’. As he walked along did he think, or was there a voice that whispered, Or is he you and you are he’?

Roj shook his head and the wayward thoughts quickly faded from his conscious self.  He picked up his pace once more and continued the journey.

In late afternoon, shortly after choosing what appeared to be a branch in the trail he jogged into a patch of alder and immediately was greeted by the whirr  of beating wings. A small covey of a half dozen fool hens had erupted from under his feet and came to roost in two of the trees just in front of him.

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