She gives us a little nod and a small twist of her lips that I think is supposed to be a smile. Then she heads off, leaving mealone with Professor Vale. Our eyes meet again, and he smiles then, little lines fanning out around his eyes.
“Have you picked a tent?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“No, not yet.”
“I think these ones over here are still up for grabs,” he says, gesturing at the small group of tents towards the back of the campsite. “Settle in and then take a look around. And please review the safety protocols posted in the research tent. I know we’ve been over them, but you can never be too careful. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He says it almost absently, casually. He obviously has no idea the effect his words have on me.
“Of course,” I squeak out. I try to tell myself that Professor Vale cares about the safety of everyone here, not just me. That the University is covering their asses when it comes to injuries and liability. My foolish heart doesn’t quite get the message, though, pounding a little harder in my chest. Our eyes meet again and hold this time, and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. After a moment, he clears his throat and returns his attention to his tablet, reviewing what I can see are site plans. I take that as my dismissal and head to the tents at the back, picking an empty one and chucking my stuff inside. I’ll unpack and get everything set up later. Right now, I want to explore.
I take my notebook and pen with me, leaving everything else behind, and I start to make my way through the camp, drinking in every single detail. The energy around me is a palpable thing, and as I move away from the camp and towards the site, the energy grows. Birdsong fills the air, and the trees tower above me, reaching toward the grey sky. They’re huge, ancient, primordial, and I reach out to skim my fingers over the rough bark. I feel a faint humming in my veins as I do, my excitement vibrating through me. Scattered among the moss-covered rocks are a few stone markers, half uncovered and scored withancient carvings. Swirling lines, heavy-breasted women, dots and geometric shapes. I reach down and trace my fingers over one of the carvings, my skin tingling, my blood humming in my veins as I do. Who carved this thousands of years ago? What bit of themselves did they put into it?
I take out my notebook and start making notes—on the forest, the site, the stones, the way the air seems to hum with something magic.
I mean, obviously magic isn’t real. But the energy here…it’s different. Unique. Ancient.
I scribble and scrawl, noting down everything I see, hear, smell, feel. I’m interrupted by the soft crack of a twig, and I glance over my shoulder to see Professor Vale walking through the forest about thirty feet away. He’s talking into his phone, recording notes that I can’t hear from my vantage point, just as lost in this as I am. He moves in long, slow steps, his free hand thrust in his pocket.
I watch him until he’s swallowed up by the mist and the trees, and I feel the forest shudder around me.
Two
Norah
When I open my eyes the next morning, it takes me a second to remember where I am. It’s not quite dark anymore, and I blink as the dark blue ceiling of my tent comes into view. I roll over, my air mattress rustling beneath me, and burrow deeper into my sleeping bag.
“Norah.” I hear my whispered name and sit up, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. “Norah. Are you awake?”
Pushing my tangled mass of dark blond hair out of my face, I unzip my sleeping bag, shivering as the cold, damp morning air hits me, even through my thermal top and leggings.
Crouching down, I unzip the flap of my tent, my heart jolting into my throat when I see Professor Vale standing there. He’s dressed and holding a battered book.
“What…what time is it?” I ask, rubbing a hand over my mouth and hoping I don’t look as disheveled as I feel.
“Early. I’m sorry to wake you, but I need your eyes on something.”
Professor Vale needs me? The rush that surges through me pushes all thoughts of climbing back into my sleeping bag out of my head. I’m desperately eager to look like a professional archaeologist and not a sleepy student, and I give my head a little shake.
“Yes, of course,” I say, my voice still rusty with sleep. I clear my throat. “Give me five minutes.”
He nods and steps back, drumming his fingers on the cover of the book. I scramble to get ready, hands shaking slightly with excitement. Professor Vale wants me to look at something. Me. My face is hot, my heart like a hummingbird in my chest as I quickly pull on my Cambridge sweatshirt over my thermal top, and a pair of durable khakis over my leggings. I shove my feet into my boots, and then quickly brush and braid my hair back out of my face. I step out of the tent, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. I hold it up when Vale looks at me, and he nods, turning his back as I head in the direction of the latrines.
When I’m done brushing my teeth and taking care of business, I put my things away and grab my notebook, a little breathless from all the rushing.
It’s fully dawn now, with the promise of more sunshine than we had yesterday. Soft, pinkish gold rays are chasing away the mist, warming the air slightly. The rest of the camp is still sleeping, and Vale and I don’t speak as I follow him out of the camp. I realize after a few moments that we’re headed in the direction I saw him walking yesterday.
“Did you find something?” I ask softly as we move deeper into the forest. Leaves crunch quietly beneath our boots as we walk, morning light shimmering through the trees.
“I think so. But given all of the research you did on Druidic altars last term, I want you to take a look.”
“You think you found an altar?” My eyebrows shoot up. Finding a true Druidic altar is rare. Most of them were destroyedby the Christians over a thousand years ago. If we’ve discovered one, intact…this could be huge.
“I do.”
We start to walk a little faster, unspoken anticipation thrumming between us like a living thing.
His hand brushes mine as we walk, shooting warmth up my arm. He doesn’t seem to notice, because why would he? I might be insane levels of infatuated with him, but to him, I’m just another grad student in a long string of grad students.
At least he appreciates my research, though. That’s something. A small gratification that I’ll accept.
