Purebred by Bonnie Bryant Page B

Lover’s Point—but the front of her mind wouldn’t let that be a possibility. Still, she felt responsible. She should do something. She would go home and persuade them both to come back to the party.
    “Can I borrow your snowmobile?” she asked Christina. “I’d like to go home and check on Louise.”
    Christina frowned. “Gee, Carole, do you think that’s really necessary? It’s awfully cold out there, and I don’t think Louise is very sick. She said she just had a bad headache. Stay here—you’ll have fun with me and Emile.”
    “I know I would, but I’d rather be sure Louise is okay,” Carole said. “I don’t want to bother Aunt Lily and Uncle John either—Louise was right, they are having fun. But I’d really like to go.” Carole smiled; she hoped persuasively. She didn’t want to let Christina know how worried she felt.
    Christina looked out the window and shivered. “It’s just that I don’t think I should let you go alone.” She looked at Carole doubtfully.
    “Oh, come on,” said Carole. “There’s no reason for you to get cold all over again. I’ll wrap up and be careful, and besides, you know I can drive your snowmobile. It’s not like I have to drive it on roads or anything—it’s a straight shot home through the woods. I can follow the tracks you just made. They’ll be easy to see in the bright moonlight.”
    “Well …” Christina looked into the living room. Emile waved and beckoned to her.
    “Please,” Carole said. “I’ll come right back. You’ve already spent plenty of time away from Emile. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
    “Okay. But do be careful.” Christina handed Carole the snowmobile keys, and Carole ran upstairs to get her coat. She put it on quickly. She hoped everything would be all right.

T HE WOODS FELT dangerous at night. The trees cast dark and terrible shadows under the full moon’s bright light, and the heavy blanket of snow made stumps and fallen trees look menacingly large.
    Carole, following the trail Christina had made, found herself becoming more and more frightened. She told herself firmly not to be scared. She reminded herself of how beautiful the trees were by daylight—how peaceful, how serene. She told herself that she had been in forests before: she had camped out many times; she had even ridden down a mountain trail in the dark. But then something swooped past her with a terrible screech and she felt panic rising in her throat. She tried not to scream.
    She hit the throttle hard and the snowmobile shotahead. It was difficult to control on the uneven ground; it shook and rocked as it hit things she couldn’t see. She was afraid to go too fast because she might hit something and wreck the snowmobile, but she was afraid to go too slowly because she wanted to get out of the woods as fast as she could.
    She began to have a hard time following Christina’s tracks—she couldn’t see them very clearly—and looking up, she saw a huge bank of clouds sweeping in from the northwest to cover the bright moon. The clouds were moving fast. The wind was blowing hard, and Carole had never been so cold. Her stomach muscles tightened into a ball. Her teeth were clenched too hard to chatter. Already her fingers and feet were growing numb.
    The woods grew darker.
Whump!
The snowmobile hit a fallen tree, careened off the top, and nearly overturned. Carole fought for her balance. It was worse than being on a bucking horse. At least a horse had some sense. The snowmobile did not. She gathered her courage around her and kept going.
    The compound couldn’t be too much farther ahead. She felt as if she’d been traveling for hours. She pushed the snowmobile as fast as she dared, faster and faster as the woods began to thin, and finally she saw lights ahead. A wave of relief washed over her.
    The snowmobile began to slow down. Carole pushed the throttle harder, but the snowmobile sputtered and chokedto a stop. Carole felt another flash of panic—had she