When the others slowly stirred, he headed back to his bedroll to pack up. Bryony slipped out of her bedroll as well, the cold air pricking her skin during the few seconds it took to slide into her parka. She went to where she’d left her boots by the fire, hoping to find them dry. She did, just like she found her wet skirt and trousers had dried in the night too.
Heath was moving toward where he’d left a pair of his trousers beside her skirt when Mikhail’s voice cut through the campsite.
“Who went through my pack?”
She turned to face him, but gone was the sleek, beautiful man from a few minutes earlier. A tense person had replaced him, looking ready to start swinging his fists.
He narrowed his eyes and scanned the lot of them. “I know someone was in my pack. Which one of you was it?”
“Not me.” She raised her hands in a gesture of innocence.
His eyes landed on her for a fraction of a second, but he drew them away when Heath started talking. “I didn’t touch it. I have to admit, I’m curious about half the things you carry in there, but I didn’t go through any of it.”
“What’s that you say?” Her father approached, scratching his head. The action left a tuft of snowy white hair sticking up from his scalp. “You think someone was in your pack?”
“I don’tthinksomeone was in my pack. I know it.” Mikhail crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes once again sweeping through the camp before coming to rest on Richard. “My journal is out of place.”
“Your journal?” Richard cocked an eyebrow. “Here I thought you were going to say someone stole your money or something important had gone missing. You probably packed your journal somewhere different yesterday, seeing how you gave Bryony your extra parka. What use would any of us have for your journal?”
“What an interesting question...” Mikhail let his words linger, keeping his eyes pinned to Richard. “Seems like journals and records are rather valued commodities on this expedition.”
“My business arrangement with Bryony isn’t any of your concern.” Richard sneered.
“Ah, I think the food is ready,” Dr. Ottingford said from the campfire. “Perhaps we should finish packing after we eat.”
A muscle pulsed at the side of Mikhail’s jaw, but when he spoke, his voice was even and controlled. “Yes, go ahead and eat. I want to leave in about a half hour. It’s still snowing at the top of the mountain, so we’re going to try forging a path around it.”
“Forge a path around the mountain?” Her father scratched his head again. “The base of the mountain looks huge. Won’t going around it mean extra days?”
“It will mean at least one extra day, possibly two. But given your lack of winter attire and what happened to Heath at the top of the last mountain, it’s the best choice we have.” Mikhail turned his back on them and began returning items to his pack in a way that didn’t invite further questions or arguments.
* * *
Mikhail staredat the river in the growing darkness. It should have been beautiful, with mist rising into the cold air from the water and the shadow of the mountain they were trying to circumnavigate towering to the south.
But all it proved was that he was a fool for trying to go around the mountain rather than over it.
He shoved his hand through his hair, his eyes taking in the way the deep water ebbed and swirled, gushing down the mountain.
Their hike that day had been plagued with rain that started and stopped more times than he could count. They’d stumbled through muddy undergrowth and thick patches of brush, and when they’d come across sections where moss coated the ground, they’d had to slow down more to transport the trunk. Dropping it even one time on the slick ground would subject the dozens of glass vials inside to breaking.
What should have been a simple hike had grown increasingly difficult as the day wore on. Every time the rain started up again, it only seemed to sap more of their energy.
Any other time, he would have been thanking God for leading him to a nice camp spot beside a river with clean water to drink, an abundance of fish, and a grand mountain rising behind it.
If only he had a way to cross the dratted river. It was too deep here, and higher up the mountain, the water would only be moving faster. Everything he knew about rivers and mountains and geography told him that if there was a place the river grew shallow, it would be to their north in the valley between this mountain and the next.
But there was little point in taking the entire team to survey the river, not when everyone was already wet and tired and hungry. So rather than continue on for another two hours like he’d wanted, they’d set up camp along the riverbank. Then he’d gone hunting while Heath and Richard volunteered to scout the river for a potential place to cross.
But that had been three hours ago. He’d returned to camp with two more rabbits, which Bryony had already cooked and they’d all eaten, and Richard and Heath still weren’t back from their scouting trip.
“Staring at the river isn’t going to help us.”
At the sound of the voice behind him, Mikhail looked over his shoulder to find Bryony approaching. “I’m trying to figure out the best way across it.”
“And is staring at it helping?” She came to a stop beside him.
“No. It’s making me more anxious.” Or at least, it had been, but now that she was standing beside him, he felt a bit calmer, as though maybe it wasn’t important they found a way across the river first thing in the morning. Maybe there was no harm in heading two miles downstream and looking for a shallower place to cross, as long as they eventually meandered their way back to where the canoes had been left.
