upon first seeing the cliffs of Labrador
20
Night descendedswiftly in the woods.
Without the lights of nearby cabins, candle tapers, and oil lamps, without bonfires and hearth embers, the darkness fell over Greer and was not pushed back.
Even the moon and stars hid from her, obscured by an ominous blanket of clouds that smelled like the promise of snow.
“Please don’t,” Greer beseeched the sky.
Snow would cover every trace of Ellis’s tracks. He’d already had an entire day’s head start. How could she follow a trail she could not see?
Before the last trace of twilight expired, she stopped and opened the pack.
Right on top, as if Louise had anticipated exactly what Greer would need and when, was an oil lantern—blessedly full—a piece of flint, and a small hatchet. Lit, the lantern’s golden glow pushed back the night and allowed her to continue after Ellis’s prints.
“Follow his footsteps,” she said, speaking aloud. Her voice sounded strange and muffled, as if she’d caught the echoes of something trapped in a deep well. The scream had done something to her ears. She prayed it was temporary.
The Bright-Eyeds weren’t the only creatures she needed to worry about in these woods. Wolves and grizzlies roamed here. Lynxes andgreat horned owls. That white bear Gil Catasch had seen. How could she keep herself safe from such predators if she couldn’t hear them coming?
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, coaching herself with firm tenacity. “Just follow Ellis’s tracks. Just find him.”
If she kept her eyes trained on the ground before her, if she kept her focus on this one task, Greer wouldn’t have to think about why her ears were both ringing and terribly numb. She wouldn’t have to remember how she’d felt when that scream had ripped free of her throat, of her chest, of her very soul.
She wouldn’t have to think about how it had picked up Lachlan and shoved him back, back, back, how its potency had caused everything around her to retreat, as if she was a destructive force of nature, as if she was the very wind itself.
And she certainly wouldn’t have to think about how still Lachlan had remained once the scream had stopped.
No.
Hessel was with him. Lachlan was fine.
Maybe.
And Greer had Ellis’s tracks to follow.
She would keep her mind focused, and only after she found him would Greer allow herself to remember the way Lachlan’s leg had stretched away from the rest of his body, its angle so terribly severe.
She winced. “Follow the trail. Just follow the trail.”
Without the moon, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. Her lantern threw out only enough light for her to see paces ahead of her, and she began to feel she was passing by the same series of trees, again and again.
Was she going in circles? What if Ellis’s path was nothing but a giant loop, doomed to be repeated over and over until she found him sprawled facedown, dropped dead of exhaustion or torn to bits?
“You’re not going in circles,” she told herself, as if putting the words out into the night would be enough to make them true. “Keep going. Ellis did.”
Greer held out the lantern, brandishing its light as far as she couldthrow it, and studied the surrounding forest with sharp, discerning eyes.
The uniformity of the pines made her feel as if she were caught in an illusion, like the time she and Louise had lined up two mirrored plates so that their reflections echoed back and forth in an unending cycle, a break in logic and reason.
She’d never seen these trees shrouded in such moody nocturnal shades before, and her throat caught at the singular beauty of the moment. Freed from the Warding Stones’ grip, she, Greer Mackenzie, was witnessing something entirely new, that no one in all of Mistaken could lay claim to.
Overcome with a dizzying sense of wonder, Greer dropped to her knees, reached out to the tree nearest her—a black spruce—and bowed her head. For an uneasy moment, her words would not come, too entangled in her lingering sense of guilt that she’d not thought to start her journey with a prayer.
As she waited for the right ones to surface, she closed her eyes and sank into the moment, acknowledging its marvel. She hoped that the Benevolence would feel her reverence, understand her thankful heart, and bless her.
“Guide my steps and keep them swift,” she whispered. “Keep the Bright-Eyeds far from me, and please”—she squeezed the bark of the spruce, trying to impart the earnestness of her plea—“please,keep Ellis safe and bring us together again soon.”
