Or perhaps she thought she would find a place to hide and catch a few hours’ sleep. A sprig of hope rose inside him at that thought.
As he and Gulliver started forward again, his mind played through other possible scenarios. Maybe she’d walked higherto get a better view of the landscape beyond, perhaps even trying to see the fort.
She wouldn’t spot it yet. Not until she reached the last range before the flat land began. From this mountain, she would likely only see a vast expanse of peaks spreading out before her. The sight was beautiful and majestic, and always reminded him how small and insignificant he was in the vastness of this land.
It also might bring despair to a young woman traveling this wilderness alone, exhausted from trudging through snow all night.
His chest struggled for air the farther up they trekked. Even Gulliver’s sides heaved, despite the hearty endurance of his breed and his years of experience with these higher climes.
Damien focused on placing one foot in front of the next. Then another step, and another. When he could go no farther, he paused, giving them both a chance to catch their breath and gather strength. He lifted his gaze up the slope, trying to ignore how steep the remaining section was that he would have to climb.
He would do this for Charlotte. He had to.
He scanned the crevices and cracks between stones, searching out an opening where she might have hidden. Perhaps there were places, but he could tell nothing for sure from this distance.
Inhaling as deep a breath as he could manage, he lifted his right foot to step forward, then his left. Gulliver trudged behind him without prodding. Maybe he sensed the importance of this mission. The mule had certainly seemed to appreciate, maybe even love, Charlotte.
I know how easy that happens, boy.She’d quickly become as important—nay, more important—to Damien than any person still alive. No one would ever take the place of his twin sister, nor his parents, though it had been many years since Mum and Dad had passed.
But Charlotte—she was still alive, and he would give everything he had to keep her that way.
Farther. Higher. His vision honed to only the snow in front of him. To Charlotte’s next track, where he would also place his foot.
The wind blew harder the higher he mounted, nagging at him like a mosquito. How much farther could he manage before he had to stop for a longer rest? He’d not planned to halt until he found her, but he couldn’t go much longer. His body might give out any minute.
Maybe he could at least make it down the other side of the mountain before he collapsed. Surely he could manage the easier descent. But he had to make it to the top first. He lifted his gaze to see how much farther up Charlotte’s prints climbed.
His foot slipped on an icy patch, sliding out from beneath him. He scrambled to catch himself with his hands, landing on all fours. For a long moment he stayed like that, drawing in thick breaths.
Gulliver nudged him from behind, perhaps only checking on him, or maybe the mule realized he needed encouragement to stand and keep moving.
He had to keep moving.
He grabbed on to the mule to help pull himself to his feet. Every part of him had grown numb—except his lungs. His chest seared with every breath.
Once more, they started forward single file. Charlotte was clearly stronger than he’d credited her since she’d managed to make this climb after also traveling through the night. Of course, she’d been riding Gulliver the past two days, not trekking on foot. Still, she must be every bit as exhausted as he was.
Again, his foot slipped, but this time he’d stepped on a raised rock. His ankle twisted as his foot slid off the edge.
He scrambled to catch himself, but his moccasin couldn’t find purchase on the slippery ground. His foot skated over icy snow, and he twisted to get his other leg beneath him. To find solid ground that would bring his sliding to a halt.
But his legs tingled beneath him, his body not doing at all what he commanded. The momentum of his efforts threw him forward, and his shoulder landed hard in the snow. The steep slope pitched him downward, rolling him. He tumbled over and over as snow wrapped him in a frigid blanket.
No matter how he tried to reach out and grasp something to stop his fall, his fingers clasped only loose snow. Any moment, his head would strike a boulder. This would be the end of him. His body would be buried in snow and ice on the side of this mountain.
At least he would finally be with Michelle.
But Charlotte...
His feet struck something solid, stopping his roll and jerking his upper body downward. His head dangled over empty space, and as he tried to free his hands to grab onto something, the stone released its hold on his feet, and he tumbled down.
He landed hard on his back, the thud reverberatingthrough him, knocking the last of the breath from his lungs. He struggled to suck in air, but his chest wouldn’t rise.
Pressing his hands against the ground beneath him, he tried to sit up, tried to turn over so he could better take in breath. Though his mind knew not to panic, his body refused to listen.
At last, he inhaled a tiny dose of thin air. Closing his eyes, he focused on gathering in the next breath. A little more this time, then still more.
For long moments he stayed like that, sitting half reclined with his hands braced behind him, eyes pressed shut as he inhaled one glorious breath after another. Finally, he recovered enough to open his eyes. The rush of the wind no longer pressed against him. Maybe he’d landed beside a boulder that blocked the gusts.
