We’d be able to carry on in the car for some of the way. As the terrain grew wilder, we’d have to abandon it and go on foot.
Cold sunk into my bones as we ran to the four-by-four. My fears had been confirmed. Lucas had found shelter, but something was wrong. He needed us to find him.
Louisa didn’t climb into the passenger seat beside Errol. Instead, she joined me in the back as the engine rumbled and Errol shot off into the mountains.
She didn’t say a word. She sat beside me and held my hand as I tried to keep the whirling storm inside me contained.
I stared out of the window and willed the moment we’d find Lucas closer.
He had to be okay. Maybe injured or scared, but essentially fine.
We’d find him and take care of him, and everything would be okay. It had to be.
Louisa’s grip on my hand was firm. Neither she or Errol commented on the tears soaking into the thick fabric of my outer scarf.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LUCAS
Ijolted awake when a goat used my chest as a launchpad to leap over one of their buddies. The darkness around me was absolute, the world leached of discernible sound by pounding rain on the tin roof.
My breathing came in shallow pants. When I tried to fill my lungs, my ribs seemed to press tight against them. I couldn’t tell if my face was burning up or if the transition from the freezing storm to the warmth of the goat-filled hut made my skin feel like I was sat next to an open fire.
I flinched at a flash of lightning that juddered beyond the rough entrance to the hut, then cried out despite the bands constricting my chest.
I’d jostled my leg. Despite how agonising the backwards crab-crawl over to the hut had been, things had gotten worse while I’d slept. I could no longer feel my left foot. It wasn’t because of the cold. My right foot was chilly but made itself known when I wiggled my toes.
The section of my left leg I could feel, starting somewhere above my knee, tingled. Tentatively, I unhooked my arm from around a slumbering goat and prodded the part of my upperthigh I could reach without crunching my stomach muscles. The flesh was bloated, pressing against my damp jeans.
Despite the weariness it would have been far too easy to submit to, panic reared. I’d hoped the break had been simple, but something else was going on.
I closed my eyes, steeling myself. I needed to retrieve my backpack from under my injured leg. My mind was dragging, so I couldn’t quite remember what was inside, but there would be helpful supplies. Maybe my phone would have signal. If not, I’d be able to use the torch to assess what was going on with my leg.
I edged my shoulders into a helpful position, then pushed upwards.
My previously numb leg exploded with pain. My chest spasmed. The unformed greys around me descended to inky blacks.
I was wheezing when I woke again. My eyes were gummy, my lips dry. My arms were splayed helplessly.
The top of my left leg throbbed. My pelvis ached. My head felt leaden.
‘Fuck,’ I whispered.
I’d denied it before this moment, had tried to be positive when the storm rolled in and when I couldn’t find shelter and even after I broke my leg, but I was in real trouble. I wasn’t a doctor so couldn’t officially diagnose myself, but if I came across an animal with the symptoms I could discern across my aching body, I would immediately rush it into the surgery.
Even though I’d squeezed Aster extra hard with a mixture of fondness and exasperation when he’d told me he’d cried when he was stuck under a boulder and had no way to replenish the water he had been needlessly wasting, I couldn’t stop the tears sinking down the sides of my overheated face and tickling my ears.
I had a vague idea that I could wipe them away, but the effort of lifting my arms was too much. I was scared it would plunge me into another bout of involuntary unconsciousness.
The darkness around me didn’t let up. I blinked against my tears, but no light broke into the hut. The rain was relentless outside, thunder rumbling in random spurts.
I was so fucking alone. Hurt and desperate and in need of rescue.
‘Kit?’ I breathed his name, like saying it might summon him from the village. He wasn’t a doctor, I wasn’t sure he would be any help in this situation, but I wanted him here.
I wished I’d kissed him this morning. More tears trickled into my hair as I thought of how horribly I’d left things. I wished I hadn’t been so fearful, that I’d chosen that moment to be braver than at any other time in my life.
Every touch I’d ever shared with Kit had been wonderful. Snuggling on his sofa or nudging shoulders behind the counter of the bookshop. Our fingers tangling over a puzzle or his hair against my cheek or our feet rubbing under the dining table.
