Despite not actively engaging with my powers any more, I could feel them pulsing within me as I neared the dark place. Hills and twisted trees hid it from view until I walked over a summit.
‘Fuck,’ I whispered, my footsteps stalling.
It must once have been a home. Now, it was a husk.
A casual glance might not reveal the damage. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Nothing was overtly wrong, but the misted windows and wilted flower beds and pitted brickwork all screamed abandonment.
My powers called to me, begging me to connect, but I shied away. This was a dark place. The darkest. Sadness lingered here. This wreck of a home had known death and the deepest sorrow.
It wasn’t as cold as last night, so the tears falling as I stood and stared at the lonely house soaked into the collar of my fleece.
CHAPTER SIX
CALLUM
Ididn’t make a conscious decision to flee before Aster emerged this morning. I heard him wake up, and a switch flipped inside of me. I had two options: either rush through and press close to his sleepy form, or leave.
Faced with the choice between acting like a massive creep or a reclusive hermit, I wolfed down my last few mouthfuls of porridge, tugged on my boots, and ran out of sight of the cabin.
Not out of earshot though. Or, not out of my earshot.
Aster grumbled about my absence, then he pottered around the cabin and eventually left.
Just like I didn’t make the decision to flee, I didn’t decide to follow him.
I stayed close by, working through my tasks for the day as I kept one ear attuned to him. It was self-preservation. Aster had proven he wasn’t as hardy as the few other folk who made it this high into the mountains. Keeping track of him now would save me the trouble later of finding him if he fell down a valley or got lost in another flurry of snow.
‘We don’t want any more snow, do we girl?’ I murmured to the goat I was examining. Almost ready to pop, her belly jutted out. I ran my hands over her tough hide, digging my fingers in slightly. Twins, if I wasn’t mistaken. Multiple births were always tricky, and would be made more so if the weather didn’t get significantly warmer soon.
My checks done, I scratched the goat’s rough back and head. She bleated her thanks before trotting away along the river.
Aster sat beside the same river, sharing lunch with the overly friendly goat. I pulled my sandwiches from my bag and climbed the nearest hill. I’d remain out of sight, but could check on Aster before I started my afternoon round-up of the other pregnant goats.
He’d been quieter since he left the cabin. In there, he’d nattered to the goat. Outside, his voice fell silent.
I wondered if Aster would speak if I walked over and sat down beside him. He’d probably have something to say when I refused to share my sandwiches with the goat. Maybe he would tell me about the project that had brought him to the island, or the family and friends he’d left behind. I’d heard his thumbs tapping at his phone as he’d hummed tunelessly back at the cabin. He had to have a whole barrage of people who loved and missed him.
It couldn’t just be me who found him magnetic. Against every ingrained instinct honed over years of living alone, all I wanted to do was reveal myself and come as close to him as possible.
I hadn’t felt an urge for closeness since the storm. I scented with Bonnie and the other pack members when I made my irregular trips to the village, but that was a necessity. I had to reinforce our bonds, no matter how much thepity in their pinched expressions made me want to hide away.
Aster was the first person I wanted to be close to, the first person I wanted to know in a long time.
Just because I’d kept to myself for years, that didn’t mean I had to forever. I could be friends with someone new.
It felt strange to entertain these hopeful thoughts. It was almost a relief when everything came crashing down.
Aster dug his hands into the earth for a minute, then I watched with dawning dread as he hurriedly packed up his things and struck out in the direction of the old house. He couldn’t know where he was headed. I silently urged him to return to the zigzagging pattern of exploring he’d adopted this morning.
But nothing distracted him. Hidden at a safe distance, I watched as he crested the final hill and stopped.
The hope of having an unsullied friendship with him shrivelled and died.
For a long time, Aster stared at the ruin of my family home. Gradually, the scent of his tears carried over on the brisk wind.
This man who was new to the island and understood none of the broken history of this place was crying.
I hadn’t cried. Not during. Not right after. Not in the years since. When Bonnie told me the best way to move on was to leave what had happened behind, a stopper had been placed over the part of me that could conjure sob-ridden sadness.
