Page 77 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
The dogs never made it up that far, nor gave any indication that she had come from that way. They lost the scent right around this clearing.
So, how the hell does Willow know about the gorge?
10
KILLIAN
Willow shivers in her sleeping bag that’s laid out next to mine in the tent.
Though it’s hot when the summer sun is high on McBride Mountain in the afternoons, once it goes down and the mists roll in, the temperature at this altitude can drop into the fifties this time of year.
A chill definitely permeates the air, but it isn’t merely the weather that’s causing her physical reaction.
The entire hike back from the clearing, Willow didn’t say a word.
She barely spoke as I set up the campsite near the river, well away from the wildlife trail in case any animals come down in the night to drink from the water. Her eyes never left the flames burning in front of the tent while I cooked our simple dinner. She only muttered a “thank you” as I handed her some of the food.
It’s as if she were in a completely different place, rather than sitting across from me underneath a canopy of trees and the sparkling, clear night sky that hangs over the mountain she knows so well.
But maybe she doesn’t feel like she does know it anymore.
Everything must seem different to her now.
The life she knew is gone.
What we had, long buried beneath regret.
I can’t even imagine how confusing it must be not to remember, not to know where you’ve been for such a large chunk of time. To know something happened, that something’s very wrong, and not be able to piece anything together.
It makes me furious.
It makes her terrified.
Her trembling continues, and I reach over and slide my hand onto her shoulder, where it sticks out of the top of the sleeping bag. “Are you okay?”
She rolls onto her back and looks at me, and the shimmer in her eyes tells me that she’s been fighting tears for a while now, not wanting me to see. “Not really.” Willow pauses to try to gather herself. “I could lie and say I am, but you know me too well…”
I gently brush away one of the drops trailing down her cheek with my thumb. “I do. Have you remembered anything else?”
Hope and dread war within me as I await her response.
There are so many reasons we need her memory to come back, but her very real fear that she is suppressing them because of how awful they are quells any excitement I might have had for their return.
She shakes her head. “No, but I’ve had this…just deep sense of dread and a franticness ever since we found the game trail and saw the clearing. Almost like my body’s remembering how I felt even if my mind can’t.”
“You were running from something. Or someone.”
Her lips press together, as if she’s fighting a sob, but she fails and releases it, the sound filled with so much anguish it rips my heart apart. “I th-think so.”
Oh, hell.
I can’t bear to see her like this, to see her falling apart, to see the strong woman I once knew collapsing under the weight of so much uncertainty.
There are so many things between us.
Time.
Secrets.
