Read Online Between Three Alphas (Steamy BBW Werebear Shifter FMMM Menage Romance) by Willow Wilde - Free Book Online
Authors: Willow Wilde
Between Three Alphas
To this day, I’m still not sure how I survived the landslide.
The first thing I remember is opening my eyes, coughing against the choking smell of stirred dust in the air. I became gradually aware of my limbs, mostly buried along with the rest of my body, and in horror I realized I could barely move. Panicking, my alertness sharply increased as the endorphins pumped straight into my head. Circumstances be damned, I wasn’t willing to die in a pile of dirt and rock, and I immediately struggled to wrench myself free from the ground.
The going was rough — I had been mostly buried in a jumble of my own, sprawled limbs, unwilling to shift from under the crushing weight. It took every ounce of strength to shift the heavy debris aside just enough to slowly, painfully pull myself free. Desperation drove me for several painstaking, testing minutes before I finally pulled my upper half up from my earthy prison.
Dragging myself out of the heavy mass of sediments and rock chunks, I gasped for air on the ground nearby. As the chemicals wore off and my fight-or-flight instincts dialed down, things started coming back to me. I remembered brief flashes now: there had been a group of us, hiking together along a wilderness trail that cut along the mountain. The rumbling had come out of nowhere, and a building flow of falling debris had swept me down the slope and towards my inevitable death. It was clear as day now – rolling with the cascading wave of earth, tumbling ever downward as I screamed, unable to separate the rising ground from the cliff-face, nor from the watching sky.
But I hadn’t died. In fact, as I pulled myself shakily off of the ground, it didn’t feel as if I’d broken any bones whatsoever.
There’s no goddamn way , I thought to myself. This kind of miraculous shit isn’t supposed to happen. I was a fucking goner .
Despite some bruising, and inevitable stiffness that would appear the next morning, I didn’t have so much as a missing tooth or a shattered elbow. My gaze drifted up the slope, tracing the redistribution of dirt and stone. Our hiking group had been walking one of the lower trails, but it was still well out of sight from my vantage point.
How long have I been down here? I wondered to myself. The sun still hung lazily in the sky — if it was the same day, I couldn’t have been unconscious more than a few hours. Thinking quickly, I took stock of myself. My body felt only mildly dehydrated, but I had been a little thirsty before the landslide anyway. Daring to twist my appendages and curve my spine, it appeared that my spry, flexible articulation was still intact. In fact, overlooking some minor scrapes and cuts, I felt fine .
This is too weird , I thought to myself. With eyes veiled in disbelief, I gazed up the slope one last time, marveling at the descent.
But there were other important matters to take care of. I had no food, and I was stranded from my group — who were undoubtedly looking for me. Logic rationed that I was going to be on my own for at least the night, and I needed to find a pure water source and shelter.
With nowhere else to turn, I gazed towards the woods. The earth had carried me squarely to a small clearing at the foot of the mountain, surrounding me on three sides with rock. The only way to advance was directly forward; with certain hesitance, I planted my first foot in that direction.
* * * *
It was only after about an hour of walking that I realized how much beauty filled the forest. As an amateur nature photographer, I appreciated nature’s majesty arguably more than most people my age, but these woods were something entirely else. The very leaves seemed to pop more, shining in brighter, greener colors as the sunlight drifted lazily to cast the canopy in brilliance. The underbrush was somehow far more forgiving than
To this day, I’m still not sure how I survived the landslide.
The first thing I remember is opening my eyes, coughing against the choking smell of stirred dust in the air. I became gradually aware of my limbs, mostly buried along with the rest of my body, and in horror I realized I could barely move. Panicking, my alertness sharply increased as the endorphins pumped straight into my head. Circumstances be damned, I wasn’t willing to die in a pile of dirt and rock, and I immediately struggled to wrench myself free from the ground.
The going was rough — I had been mostly buried in a jumble of my own, sprawled limbs, unwilling to shift from under the crushing weight. It took every ounce of strength to shift the heavy debris aside just enough to slowly, painfully pull myself free. Desperation drove me for several painstaking, testing minutes before I finally pulled my upper half up from my earthy prison.
Dragging myself out of the heavy mass of sediments and rock chunks, I gasped for air on the ground nearby. As the chemicals wore off and my fight-or-flight instincts dialed down, things started coming back to me. I remembered brief flashes now: there had been a group of us, hiking together along a wilderness trail that cut along the mountain. The rumbling had come out of nowhere, and a building flow of falling debris had swept me down the slope and towards my inevitable death. It was clear as day now – rolling with the cascading wave of earth, tumbling ever downward as I screamed, unable to separate the rising ground from the cliff-face, nor from the watching sky.
But I hadn’t died. In fact, as I pulled myself shakily off of the ground, it didn’t feel as if I’d broken any bones whatsoever.
There’s no goddamn way , I thought to myself. This kind of miraculous shit isn’t supposed to happen. I was a fucking goner .
Despite some bruising, and inevitable stiffness that would appear the next morning, I didn’t have so much as a missing tooth or a shattered elbow. My gaze drifted up the slope, tracing the redistribution of dirt and stone. Our hiking group had been walking one of the lower trails, but it was still well out of sight from my vantage point.
How long have I been down here? I wondered to myself. The sun still hung lazily in the sky — if it was the same day, I couldn’t have been unconscious more than a few hours. Thinking quickly, I took stock of myself. My body felt only mildly dehydrated, but I had been a little thirsty before the landslide anyway. Daring to twist my appendages and curve my spine, it appeared that my spry, flexible articulation was still intact. In fact, overlooking some minor scrapes and cuts, I felt fine .
This is too weird , I thought to myself. With eyes veiled in disbelief, I gazed up the slope one last time, marveling at the descent.
But there were other important matters to take care of. I had no food, and I was stranded from my group — who were undoubtedly looking for me. Logic rationed that I was going to be on my own for at least the night, and I needed to find a pure water source and shelter.
With nowhere else to turn, I gazed towards the woods. The earth had carried me squarely to a small clearing at the foot of the mountain, surrounding me on three sides with rock. The only way to advance was directly forward; with certain hesitance, I planted my first foot in that direction.
* * * *
It was only after about an hour of walking that I realized how much beauty filled the forest. As an amateur nature photographer, I appreciated nature’s majesty arguably more than most people my age, but these woods were something entirely else. The very leaves seemed to pop more, shining in brighter, greener colors as the sunlight drifted lazily to cast the canopy in brilliance. The underbrush was somehow far more forgiving than
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