The third day Sipe arrived and thought his once upon a time brother-in-law might be sleeping. The second day, Bryce had been pale. That third day he was gray. No pulse or so weak a pulse Sipe couldn’t feel it.
Each day Sipe had cut him someplace new, let some blood out, thinking the smell might attract something in the woods. Bear. Cougar. Wolf. Higher elevation, no clouds at night, it got cold. Colder than Sipe had predicted. Maybe he’d cut something vital, something that had bled a little more vigorously than he’d planned.