Page 76 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius swallowed against the hysteria rising in his throat.He went to rest a hand on Watt’s shoulder, then faltered upon seeing the blood all over his fingers.“Watt,” he whispered.“I'm right here.”
Watt blinked rapidly, coming back to himself.“We have to go back,” he croaked.
He opened his mouth to say,‘I know,’ but stopped.Goosebumps swarmed his skin, and he shivered beneath the distinct weight of an unknown presence watching them.His gaze wandered over the small, barely cleared out portion of the jungle, their slice of their world.He felt sure they were alone, that it was only them here.Them, and the wild.He listened, sure he heard someone speaking.No, it was …itwas calling them.
The voice of wild places sung to Cornelius, and Watt.He looked around too, eyes wide with fear and perhaps a little bit of awe.
It was the bright and hopeful tenor of the birds, and the solid bass of life pulsing in the ground beneath their feet.The gentle swish of foliage surrounding their little company, and the rustle of the thick canopy overhead.And even fainter than that, but present all the same, the sound of water.They were at the heart of the world, and she was singing to them.
The birds cried,‘not yet.’
The mud groaned,‘just a little bit farther.’
The leaves whispered,‘there are secrets here.’
The water promised,‘life, the secret of life.’
It was all beckoning them to try once more.They weren’t truly lost, not if going home was an option.And what was waiting for them at home?
“Do you—” Watt whispered, reaching for Cornelius’ hand.
Cornelius took it, squeezing tight.
And like a cloud passing over the sun, the presence faded and the voice receded, back into the depths of the unknown.
Cornelius shivered.He whispered, “It’s too late in the day to go anywhere.Let’s make camp here for the day, and see what tomorrow brings.”
“Cornelius, whatwasthat?”Watt's knuckles were white from how hard he gripped Cornelius’ aching fingers.
Cornelius shook his head.“I … don’t know.I think we’re both just tired.”
Watt barked out a short, delirious and giddy laugh.Cornelius startled, then he started laughing, too.Harsh and wet, full of frustration and relief and something like hope.Because all was not lost, not yet.Not while they were still holding hands, bodies coming together until their foreheads met.Watt’s forehead was sweaty, and his hair was rough where it stuck to his skin.Cornelius didn’t care, he was probably just as disheveled.Their laughter died a slow death, lingering in the space between their lips.Their hands were still clasped between them, and they stayed like that for a little while longer.Existing in the other’s space, the air between them thick with love.Discounting Cornelius’ own feelings, it was a different sort of love.One that was forged through hardship and kinship, trust and the knowledge that this person beside you, they were in it for as long as you were.Neither time, distance, or meddling from others could sever a connection like that.
Oh, Cornelius was done for.
He loved Watt.Helovedhim.Always had, always would.
Watt lay with Maggie in his arms and listened to Cornelius as he moved around camp.He’d done everything, from taking the lead during the event to setting up an acceptable area to make camp in less than ideal conditions.Watt had watched as Cornelius cleared brush and vegetation from a small area between the trees, checking for critters and otherwise.He’d hung up their hammocks between a few sturdy but small trees, and instructed Watt to rest with Maggie.
“A calm patient is a healing patient,” Cornelius had said, but Watt knew it was because of him, too.Watt was … well.Cornelius had said it, didn’t he?Watt was a failure.He’d failed to keep their direction, to keep Maggie safe, or to act quickly in an emergency.He’d frozen.
Besides his time in France, bleeding out and trapped in the woods like an animal, freezing beside the long dead body of the man he'd cared for, he’d never felt so much despair before.He’d locked up, costing Maggie precious seconds.He’d never hesitated in a time of crisis before, not in wartime or otherwise.But God, this wasMaggie.He hadn’t been able to leave her behind, and now his cowardice could be the death of her.Cornelius had tried to warn him, and did Watt listen?
And again, if he’d listened to Cornelius even a day sooner and turned back for camp, Maggie wouldn’t have been bitten.Well, now the fever dream of ambition had been broken, and Watt could see every mistake he’d made clearer than ever before.How could he ever repair them all?He was a man built of fractures, and was falling apart at the seams.
He closed his eyes and thought,‘that’s what you get for running through bramble and jungle, those thorns will get you.That’s what you get for taking the word of a widow clinging to something intangible like magic and faith.’
But … was magic and faith so ridiculous?He thought about the voice they’d heard, for by the look on Cornelius' face in that moment it was clear he'd heard it too.The sensation of the world opening her eyes and perceiving you, and henceforth judging you worthy enough to hear her siren song.It was a sound you heard with your heart more than your ears, and wasn’t that intangible, too?
His fingers glided through Maggie’s coat.She lay entirely on top of him and her heart beat against his, fast and unrelenting.She wasn't asleep, only resting through the pain.
“Watt,” Cornelius whispered, and his fingers skimmed over the curve of Watt's shoulder.“Food’s ready.”
Watt opened his eyes.Cornelius stood over him, his hand coming to rest on Watt’s collarbone.His brow was furrowed, and his face was dirty.There was a scratch above his eyebrow, fresh and weeping blood.Watt reached out and wiped it away before it trickled down into Cornelius’ eye.
Cornelius took him by the wrist with his other hand, raising that same brow.“I’m fine, just a branch got me.”
“You’re bleeding.”
