Page 77 of A Land So Wide
Another howl rose, sounding closer now, and Greer was horrified to see how her hands trembled.
“And, please, keep Ellis safe…bring us together again,” she added before flying back to the fire.
Sometime between rescuing her and disappearing into the night, Noah Finn had gathered up a mighty pile of branches, and Greer threw them onto the fire now, letting the flames rise high. Too high, probably, but if the stranger was still out there, if he was alive and had not been scooped up by the sneaky voice that persisted after Greer, she wanted him to be able to find his way back.
Back to the light.
Back from the wolves.
Back to her.
Recklessly, Greer tossed another branch onto the flames and picked up Noah Finn’s coat.
She could hope for his return, even while pragmatically acknowledging that its heft was far warmer than anything she had. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and buttoned up the front. It hung off her frame as if she was a child playing at dress-up, but it made her feel safer somehow, as if it was a suit of armor, not just tattered wool.
She laid her cloak over the ground and sat, pulling the bear blanket over her lap, and began her vigil.
She would stay awake, waiting for Finn to return. And if the dawn broke and he had not, she would say a prayer for his soul, douse the fire, and continue after Ellis.
She couldn’t afford to lose sight of her mission. Finn’s disappearence had shown her just how terrifyingly fast the wilderness could strike.
She would let the fire burn all through the night, high and bright, a beacon calling out to anyone who might need to see it.
In the morning, as the sun painted the sky soft in shades of gray, as the cold winter winds howled through the firs, gusting and tousling their branches until everything inside her mind turned to a hush of white noise she could not escape, Greer ate a small breakfast. She packed her rucksack and set off into the woods once more, Noah Finn’s coat on her back.
As she went past the spot where she’d laid out her offerings, she noticed that the area was clear, save for the bloody stains on the remainder of the melting snow. Whatever had come to feast upon her gratitudes had not left a single footprint behind.
27
Greer spent the morningfollowing the sound of the river, climbing up and down embankments, always heading toward the rushing water. As the elevation rose, slowly, gradually, the landscape shifted. Trees were no longer plentiful and didn’t grow to astounding heights. The ground beneath her hardened, turning rocky and treacherous, and her feet bore the brunt of the unforgiving terrain.
By midday, they were in agony, and her joints had begun to ache as well. Her knees felt swollen, and the tops of her ankles throbbed.
She stopped to adjust her boots’ lacing. The bows had come undone, and she’d nearly fallen, catching her stride on the loose leather cords. Her pack swayed precariously as she bent over, threatening to pitch her down the steep incline, like an ungainly turtle.
Greer double-knotted her laces and got ready to straighten. She pressed her hands to the ground, and was about to shove back with all her might, letting the momentum of the heavy rucksack work in her favor, when she spotted a sliver of footprint, just beyond the spread of her fingers.
She instantly recognized the shape of the track and almost fell over, letting out a sound of surprised relief. Ellis’s right boot had a crack in the inner middle of its sole, where the tread had worn thin and split.His footprints cut sharply through the trail she’d been taking, and with the thin, rocky soil, she’d almost missed it.
“Ellis?”
How old might these tracks be? It hadn’t snowed since her first night in the woods. When had he come through?
With a groan, Greer removed her pack, allowing her aching shoulders to have a moment of respite while she stretched and drank deeply from her canteen. She ate a bit more bread, looking down the trail Ellis had come from. He’d been much farther west, and she wondered what had drawn him that way after his first night’s campsite.
Hessel had implied that the sacrifices were whisked away after setting foot over the border, but here were Ellis’s tracks, miles and miles from Mistaken.
He’d walked here. On his own.
There were no prints accompanying his, no guide to show him the way. Did he know where he was going, or was he simply acting on instinct?
And the Bright-Eyed…
Was it stalking him still?
She followedhis tracks for the rest of the afternoon, until they led her to the river.
Greer let out a whoop of excitement.
