Chapter 1
Caitlin Summers reachedup, tugged on the rope to check her anchor, then wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. Satisfied she’d found a decent ledge, she allowed herself a moment’s respite, tucking her feet into the ledge and leaning forward against the sun-warmed rock face.
Her legs and arms were screaming with fatigue and her lungs burned as she sucked in deep, invigorating breaths. Yet she felt better than she had in a long time. The exertion, the danger, the risk—it all helped her to forget.
This high up the wind could sometimes be fierce, but she’d chosen a perfect day for climbing: bright sunshine, warm but not hot, and a gentle breeze to cool a sweating brow.
Her eyes swiveled downwards. The rockface spread out below in a series of dark, craggy slabs overgrown in places with vegetation that had somehow managed to get a foothold in the cracks and crevices that dotted the cliff. There were often other climbers up here, but today she had it all to herself.
Caitlin sucked in a breath and looked up. Above towered a sheer wall of rock, stretching up into the blue sky as far as she could see. A thrill of excitement ran through her. She loved the feeling of risk and danger that came with climbing, the adrenaline rush that made her feel alive in a way nothing else could.
Out here, nothing mattered but the moment. There was no past, no future. Just herself and the rock and the challenge of beating it. There were no memories that dogged her thoughts, no anxieties about the future, no doubts that refused to let her go. Just herself and the wide-open expanse of the Highlands around her.
She took another deep breath and pushed off from the ledge, grabbing the next handhold and pulling herself up. As she climbed, her muscles burned with the intensity of the effort but she pushed through the pain and focused only on the next move, the next grip, the next step.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of climbing, Caitlin reached the summit. She collapsed onto the rocky outcropping, gasping for breath and feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the moment, savoring the feeling of accomplishment and the rush of satisfaction. It reminded her that she wasnota victim. She was strong, resilient. If only she could remember that more often.
She sat up and rubbed her aching legs. Through the weatherproof material of her skin-tight leggings, her fingers traced the contours of the bumps and ridges of the damaged skin underneath. She told herself she was trying to work the pain out of her exhausted muscles, but it was more than that.
Her scars were like a scab she couldn’t help picking, an ever-present reminder that she couldn’t outrun. Panic began to rise up from deep inside. It beat at the edges of her consciousness like the wings of some great black bird.
No. Not this time. Leave me alone.
She pushed the panic away and took deep breaths, refusing to let it in. Tugging down the arms of her long-sleeved climbing top, checking her fingerless gloves, and her leggings to ensure every inch of her skin was covered, she climbed to her feet, unhooked her harness, and looked around.
The view from the summit was breathtaking. Caitlin could see for miles, the rolling hills and valleys of the Scottish Highlands stretching out before her in a patchwork of greens and browns. It was a peaceful scene, a momentary respite from the turmoil of her thoughts.
Behind her, the crag gave out onto an upland plateau of purple heather and long grass, but nearer to where she stood, sheltered from the wind by a rocky hill, grew a copse of oak trees.
Caitlin made her way towards the copse, feeling the crunch of dried grass beneath her boots. The trees were old, their bark thick and gnarled, and the leaves rustled gently in the breeze. She found a spot beneath the largest oak and sat down, her back against the trunk. For a moment, she just sat there, feeling the roughness of the bark against her back and listening to the sound of the wind whispering through the leaves. But then memories, like a boulder rolling down the mountainside, came rushing back: the crackle and roar. The stink of smoke. The helpless terror of being trapped with nowhere to run.
Caitlin closed her eyes and breathed deeply. No. She wasnotgoing there.
A sudden sound cut through the trees, loud enough to make her jump. Her eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet, looking around. Was that a...meow?
The sound was coming from somewhere further into the trees. Caitlin walked closer, craning her neck. And then she saw it—a large tabby cat perched high up in one of the branches, mewing for help. Beneath the tree stood a portly old woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun. She waved her arms as though trying to coax the cat down from its treetop perch.
“Come on now, ye daft beast!” she called. “Stop mucking around!”
Caitlin blinked in surprise. What on earth were an old woman and her cat doing up here?
The cat inched along the branch towards its owner but then seemed to think better of it and froze, all four legs wrapped around the branch, yowling loud enough to wake the dead. Caitlin felt an odd pang of sympathy for the feline.
She coughed politely. “Erm, can I help?”
Surprised, the old woman turned around and smiled when she saw Caitlin. “Och, dearie. Ye startled me. If ye could help, I would be mighty grateful. I’m afraid Baxter here has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle.” She gestured towards the cat, still mewling piteously up in the branches.
Caitlin moved up to the tree, tilting her head back to peer up at the cat. He looked like a run-of-the-mill tabby cat, except he was bigger, had stripes down his back and a very fluffy tail. He looked like... “Is that... a Scottish Wildcat?”
“Wild?” the old woman replied. “I should say so. Doeswhathe likeswhenhe likes. Doesnae listen to a word I say! Except when he gets himself into trouble and needs my help! Then he isnae so wild!”
Caitlin looked back up at the cat. “Okay, little guy. Let’s get you down from there.”
She took a step back then launched herself upwards, grabbing hold of the lowest branch and pulling herself up. Her fingerless gloves protected her palms from the scrape of the bark as she climbed higher, eyes fixed on the cat. When she reached the branch where Baxter was perched, she stretched out a hand and stroked his fur, murmuring soft words of comfort. Baxter watched her with large green eyes before meowing again, his paws still gripping the branch tightly.
Caitlin reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of jerky she’d brought for the climb, holding it out towards the cat. “Hey, little guy, want a snack?”
The cat’s ears perked up at the smell of the jerky and he tentatively sniffed at her hand before taking a tiny bite. Caitlin grinned. “There you go. See, not so bad up here, is it?”
