The Boundless Read Online Free PDF

mouth.
    â€œShhhhh.”
    He plucks the golden spike from the snow.
    â€œYou and me,” he whispers to Will, “got an understanding, ain’t we? You call out, I’ll find you and your pa and slit your throats. Got that?”
    Terrified, Will just stares at the man’s obscured face, at the narrow band of skin around his chilly blue eyes.
    I know you, Will thinks, but he says nothing.
    The man called Brogan turns and begins churning his way back up the slope. He brushes a broken branch, and the end twitches and then clutches his ankle.
    With a grunt Brogan tries to kick himself free, but the branch flexes and grows longer. Like some mutant tree unfolding itself from the earth, a long arm stretches out and sprouts a bony shoulder and narrow head, matted with snow. Brogan gives a cry of horror as he’s dragged back.
    A skunky stench wafts across to Will as the sasquatch thrashes itself up from the snow. Will knows now why the Natives call them stick men, for their limbs are so thin yet powerful that they look like they’re made from the indestructible ingredients of mountain forest.
    Will can see that it’s a young one, quite a bit smaller than him. Though its mouth is wide, teeth bared, Will isn’t sure if the beast is attacking or merely clambering atop Brogan like someone trying not to drown. Brogan beats at the sasquatch. From a pocket he pulls a long knife and stabs the creature in the shoulder. It crumples, sending up a terrible shriek.
    For a moment Will thinks a treetop has snapped and fallen, for something thin and very tall hits the snow beside Brogan. But it’s no tree. It is seven feet of fury, jumping down from above to protect its child. Will’s insides feel liquid with fear. The creature’s arms are vast knotted branches, its clawed feet gnarled roots. The adult sasquatch reaches down and grabs Brogan by an arm and a leg and in one movement hurls him. The golden spike flies clear of his clothing and lands in the snow, not far from Will. Brogan himself sails through the air, skids across the snow with a squawk of terror, and disappears over the edge into the gorge.
    Chest heaving, the sasquatch checks on its young, and then turns and looks straight at Will.
    â€œPa!” Will hollers.
    â€œStay still!” his father shouts. “Don’t turn your back! I’m coming!”
    Gripping the tree, Will stares at the sasquatch as it shakes the snow from its furred body.
    â€œShe just wants her child, Will,” his father is calling. “Show her you’re no threat. Don’t look in her eyes.”
    Will feels a tremor and sees the snow sliding slowly past his tree like a river toward the precipice. Great rafts of it pour over into the abyss. An ominous creak emanates from his father’s pine. It begins to tilt toward the gorge.
    â€œIt’s giving way!” Will cries, seeing the snow’s surface pucker all around.
    â€œSwim!” Will’s father cries out to Van Horne, and the two begin thrashing their way uphill toward Will. The snow slips and shoves against them. To Will it looks like they’re scarcely moving, but they fight on against the tide.
    When he turns back to the two sasquatch, they’re skidding straight toward him on the current of snow. Will clambers round to the far side of the trunk. Sliding with the snow comes the gold spike, and as it passes, Will seizes it.
    â€œWe’re coming, Will!” his father shouts behind him.
    But the sasquatch are coming faster. He can’t help it—he looks into the creature’s face and sees eyes as old as the mountains and as merciless.
    â€œMove back, Will!” he hears his father cry, and then there’s a sharp crack.
    Will looks over his shoulder and sees Van Horne with a smoking pistol in his hand.
    The mother sasquatch has collapsed in the snow, and her limp body is being carried by the current. The young one sets up a frenzied shrieking, its sharp