They didn’t stop for a midday break like they usually did, and Bree’s legs were feeling the strain. She liked to think she was fit and would often walk the long mountain trails just because she could, but she never walked for days on end.
At least Horland let the girl climb on his back again—she was too small to walk all day.
Thankfully, they stopped in a small clearing before nightfall, but not having eaten all day, Bree’s stomach was just about eating itself.
Horland fished in his sack and came out with a full loaf of bread. He broke it into three and handed a piece each to Bree and the girl. Bree eyed it and was surprised when she couldn’t find any mold on it. She nibbled the crust. It was stale but still tasty. They shared the water bag and for a few moments, Bree was content. Horland was attentive and seemed to know when she needed another drink. He finished his bread first and stood up.
“I’ll see if I can find something more substantial for supper.”
Once he’d left, Bree offered the rest of her bread to the girl, who had already finished her piece.
She held up her hand, palm out, and shook her head.
Bree smiled. “Go on, you have it. I’ve had enough and I’m really not that fond of stale bread.”
The girl smiled widely, took it, and ate with gusto.
Wondering if Horland would find anything to eat, Bree took in her surroundings. Even without direct sunlight, it was lovely, really. If it had the stream they stopped at earlier, it would be a perfect camping spot. She took in a deep breath of sweet, clean air.
A vision of Horland, shirtless, sprang in her mind. He was a stunner, that was for sure, but she couldn’t wrap her head around why he was giving her the silent treatment. She thought they’d gotten closer when he told her about her parents, although of course he didn’t know he was talking about her parents. She sucked in her bottom lip. Maybe their kiss had sparked a memory for him, and he just had to work through whatever he was feeling by himself.
She felt bad for him. He obviously liked her parents, a lot, and he was close to them, so much so, he thought of Garlain as his brother. Bree guessed it would have hurt that they hadn’t confided in him—not that he knew they had anything to confide in him about, but he must have sensed they were keeping something from him.
And they were. Maybe she should tell him the truth, but she wasn’t sure how he would take that. He would probably think she was mad. From what he’d said about Garlain, he thought her father was quite mad. From what Horland heard from Simone, Garlain’s sister, he didn’t think Garlain was normal any longer. What was normal? Bree never saw herself as what others perceived as normal. Everyone she met thought she was mildly eccentric, at least that’s what her neighbors had called her.
She never took offence though. After all, to the outside world, she did live an abnormal life. She spent years in her little cabin, living as much as she could off the land, learning and doing as many handyman jobs as she could, all in preparation for the journey she was now undertaking. Even though some of the men from town had taken her out andliked her company, she was never once tempted into a relationship.
And she thought she was doing quite well in the seventh century, until Horland got under her skin. She didn’t know when it happened, but if she was honest with herself, she began to care about him way before the kiss. She had started seeing him differently, and not just as a means to get to her father.
She wanted to be friends with him and she wanted to help him, but he had to let her in more, he had to trust her and if she told him the truth, he wouldn’t be able to believe her; he’d not trust anything she said again.
She let out a sigh and turned back to the girl. The poor little thing was once again so exhausted, she’d fallen asleep.
Bree thought she and the child suited one another. Neither was normal in the usual sense of the word. Then again, the little girl adored Horland, so perhaps Horland wasn’t as normal as he thought either. Maybe the three of them were somehow brought together to help one another.
After covering the girl with her coat, Bree set about making a fire. She cleared any leaf litter away and as she built the fire, she tried to remember her father. Glimpses of him, smiling and swinging her above his head, flashed through her mind, but she wasn’t sure if they were real memories or ones, she’d embedded from the many pictures her mother and Aunt Di took.
A clear vision of her lying on a bed between her mother and father came to mind. Both parents were tickling her, and she was laughing uncontrollably.
Her mother stopped and held her father’s hand. “Stop,” she said. “She can’t get her breath.”
“Are you all laughed out?” her father asked Bree.
Bree shook her head. She didn’t want them to stop but instead of tickling her, her father kissed her forehead, thenleaned over and kissed her mother. Bree lay there looking from one to the other as they gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes. Love filled their faces when they looked at her too. It was the most beautiful scene imaginable, and Bree felt that love charge the air in the room and fill her heart.
“Briana?”
Bree looked up and Horland’s concerned eyes gazed down on her. She only just realized she’d been crying and wiped the tears from her face. She glanced at the pile of what looked like dirt in his arms.
“Have you been collecting worms?”
He shot her a confused frown and looked down into his arms. “No. They are carrots.”
“Yum, I love carrots. Here, give them to me so I can clean them.”
He dropped them on the ground and tended to the fire.
Bree made out like she was concentrating on the carrots, cleaning them by wiping the dirt off as best she could. Horland watched her and something about his stance and facial expressions told her he wanted to ask her about her tears. She didn’t want to talk about it. She placed the carrots onto the cooler part of the fire off to the side of the flames and used that to make for an entirely different conversation. “It doesn’t matter if the skin burns a bit, the insides are what we want.”
