Page 183 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Willow’s stamina is good. She doesn’t complain as she begins to climb, the terrain becoming steeper. Pausing to tighten the bright red laces on her walking boots, she’s bent over, and her round ass is on full display to me.

She catches me staring at her. “What?”

“I’m glad you agreed to come.”

Her smile is grateful. “This was a good idea, Mi.”

I tug her towards me, bringing her close enough for a kiss. “We can stay as long as you need. Forever if necessary. In fact, we could become feral and live out our days in peace.”

Willow snorts. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“I’m just saying. It could be fun.”

“If I didn’t have Arianna, I’d actually be tempted.”

I peck her cheek and boost her over the next rock. “You’re just Willow today. Not Mummy or anything else. We’re two people, camping out and hiding from the world.”

“Damn, Micah. You know me far too well.”

“I know that it’s what I would need.”

“Thank you. I really did need this.”

“I’ve got your back, angel.”

We take a quick break during our ascent. The incline is pretty steep, but I’m familiar with the route that takes us towards my favourite camping spot. There’s a guideline already in place that I set up last summer.

I’ve hiked this route a bunch of times over the years when even the remoteness of Briar Valley got too much for me to handle. It’s a relatively easy hike compared to the military-style marches my dad used to take us on.

“How many times have you been here?” Willow asks.

“In the summer, I come every month or so.”

“And you camp alone? All the way up here?”

I shrug, hoisting the backpack into a more comfortable position. “Being alone up here really doesn’t bother me. I love the silence. It feels like the world doesn’t exist.”

“Sometimes I wish the world really didn’t exist.”

“Well for the next twenty four hours, it doesn’t for us.”

After five sweaty hours with intermittent water breaks, we’ve arrived in the misty wilderness of St David’s point. It’s a treasure trove of spindly pine trees, thick shrubs, and thriving mountain flowers nestled amongst the ragged outcroppings of rock.

“Here we are.”

“This place is insane,” Willow breathes.

“It’s beautiful, right?”

Climbing over a boulder, I hoist myself into the spot I’ve camped at before. There’s a flat shelf of rock that hugs the side of the mountain, big enough to fit the tent and a couple of people. I’ve dreamed about bringing Willow here.

It has an undisturbed panoramic view of the stunning valley beneath us, lit by the sun sinking on the horizon in the distance. The afternoon has slipped away, succumbing to the clinging embrace of shadows and darkness.

“Want to help me get set up so we can catch the sunset?”

Willow nods. “Sure.”

She takes my outstretched hand and I help pull her over the boulder to plant her feet on the rock shelf. Smoothing sticky hair back from her reddened face, she studies the vast, breathtaking expanse of the horizon.

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