She had been poised to run, but that idea stopped her in her tracks. She could not bear the thought of an animal out here, alone and possibly trapped, surely injured, from the sounds it was making. Perhaps it was a raccoon or even a dog. At the third moan, she knew she had to see if she could find it, help it.
She moved slowly in the direction of the sounds, looking carefully about her. The chances were high that it was an animal, but just in case… She picked up a sturdy chunk of driftwood from the shale, hefting it in her right hand while her left kept her hair out of her eyes. She would have no compunction about braining someone if it turned out to be necessary.
As she cautiously approached a large rock nestled near the foot of the cliffs, she heard another sound, this time more of a whimper than a moan. It clearly came from behind the rock. Edging forward, her makeshift club raised threateningly, she could just make out a large, dark shape lying against the shale. It was too large for a raccoon or a dog… Was it a man? It was. Shock made Amanda jump backward, a startled cry rising to her throat. The piece of driftwood dropped from her nerveless hand.
He made no move to come after her. Amanda relaxed a little, her hand pressing against her heart, which was pumping double time. Gradually it occurred to her that the man must be hurt: that would explain the sounds she had heard. Perhaps he was a local farmer, fallen from the cliffs while looking for a strayed animal, or even a sailor whose boat had sunk in last night’s seas. She couldn’t leave him there. She had to help him if she could.