In the dim light of the fire, she could just make out the shadow of sleeping forms. Except one of the shadows moved.
Mikhail. That was his bedroll, and it looked as if he’d just rolled over.
He rolled back to the other side. “No, don’t go without me. Let me come with you.” The desperate sounding words drifted into the night, and his covers rustled again. “Stop! Don’t! I said don’t!”
She sat up and pulled on the parka that had been draped over her bedroll, then patted around in the snow for her boots.
Mikhail seemed to be having a nightmare, and if he kept at it, he’d wake the rest of the camp.
She found her boots and pulled them on, not bothering to lace them before she headed around the fire toward where Mikhail lay at the very edge of the camp.
He was thrashing around, mumbling things she could only half make out about going with someone and something about a storm, then begging someone to stop.
She knelt down in the snow and settled a hand on his shoulder. “Mikhail, wake up.”
He groaned and rolled over, but his eyes didn’t open.
She shook his shoulder next. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
Still nothing. He moved his head wildly from side to side, his golden brown hair clinging to his forehead as he thrashed against the bedroll. His entire body was tense, the tightness of his muscles radiating through his clothes and blankets.
She tightened her grip and gave him another firm shake. “Mikhail, it’s me—Bryony. You need to wake up.”
His thrashing slowed, and his golden eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment before they locked onto her face. He stared at her, his chest heaving, as though trying to make sense of what was happening.
Suddenly, every fiber of her body felt shy. She dropped her hands and hunkered into her parka. “I’m sorry. It was just... You appeared to be having a nightmare, and I... I didn’t want you to wake the camp.”
She hadn’t wanted him caught in the throes of what was clearly a terrible dream either, but it seemed stupid to say such a thing.
Mikhail leaned back, staring up into the inky night. “Was I that loud? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was already awake, but?—”
“You were awake?” He sat up. “Why?”
“What was your nightmare about?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about Richard.”
“It didn’t seem like you were dreaming about him.”
“No, but... but I should have saved him. Should have done something more. I’m sorry that I...” His words died, leaving only the hooting of a snow owl and the noise of the wind through the trees.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped again.
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He pressed his eyes shut, lines of pain etched across his face. “I should have grabbed his arm. I should have caught him. I should have?—”
“No.” She leaned forward and rested a hand over his forearm. “What happened today wasn’t your fault. Richard didn’t listen to you. I didn’t hear everything he said to you while the two of you were in the middle of the canyon, but I know you told him to keep his eyes forward and keep walking. He didn’t. He paused in the middle of the bridge to look at something, and then he lost his balance. We all saw it happen.”
“I’m the guide. It’s my job to get everyone back to Sitka, and I...” He swallowed, then buried his head in his hands. “The worst of it is we’ll never find his body, and he at least deserves a burial, just like...”
“Just like who? Who else have you lost, Mikhail?”Was it Livy?She leaned forward, even though she didn’t really expect him to give an answer.
Long, slow shadows from the fire flickered across his face. “My parents,” he whispered, then looked away.
“Your parents?” Her brows pinched together. “I thought they died years ago.”
