We get both horses saddled up and ride toward the loch. We take a trail that winds through the trees instead of the road we drove on before. It’s so green. Green grass, green trees, green moss covering them. It smells sharp of pine and dirt and a subtle floral scent that I can’t quite place. I wonder if it’s Skye. I watch her up ahead, her soft curls flowing behind her, bouncing with each step, and I imagine myself burying my face in her hair. Would the smell get stronger?
Skye looks back, and I glance away quickly so she doesn't think I’m a creep for staring at her all the time.
“You’re good on a horse,” she says, a note of surprise in her voice.
“I’ve had training.” I nod. “Rode them in quite a few movies over the years.”
“Ahh, yes.” She lifts up her pointer finger. “I saw that cowboy one. What was it called?” She snaps her fingers. “Spurned.You were on a horse in that whole thing. I just forgot.”
I laugh. “My performance was that memorable, huh?”
She falters, and I quickly add, “I’m kidding. It was terrible. But that movie was a lot of fun to make. I loved the horse. His name was Wayne, named after John Wayne. He was a handful.” I pat Foxy on the side. “Nothing like you. You are such a good girl.”
Skye smirks, an adorable half-smile, and turns back to the trail. “Let’s see what you got, then.”
She gives her horse a kick, and they're off like a shot.
It’s true that I’ve been trained, but it’s also true that it’s been years since I’ve been in the saddle. I give Foxy one more pat. “Okay, girl. Please,pleasemake me look good.”
A swift kick to her sides, and we’re off. The wind is fresh on my face. My sweater blows snug against my torso. I feel alive. I feel free. Maybe I should get a horse. But where would I put it at my place in LA? Maybe I should move somewhere quieter.
During my travels around the Highlands, when I wasn’t worried about Skye never forgiving me, I felt at peace. The silence is soothing. And I was only stopped by fans a handful of times. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss a quick drive to get my favorite green smoothie, but the countryside suits me more than I thought it would. Maybe I’m just over-identifying with my character. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I bring my focus back to the trail. We’re headed down toward the loch now, and I catch up to Skye. She’s slowed her mare down to a trot, and we ride side by side. We take a trail right on the banks of Loch Ness. The water stretches out, rippling in the wind this morning. Streaks of black mix with every shade of gray you can imagine, settling into a stark white on the horizon. I never knew so manysubtleties of gray existed before coming here. My eyes scan the water automatically for movement.
“So…monster hunting?” She raises her eyebrows as she asks.
I smile. She must’ve caught me searching. “Aye.”
She laughs. “Aye?”
“Trying it out. For my character.”
I tell her about my adventures over the past week, staying in small towns, hearing about people’s experiences with the loch and the monster.
“Everyone who lives near the loch has one, according to Margie.”
Skye nods. “Believe me, I know.”
I tear my eyes away from the water to look at Skye again, a far more breathtaking sight. The gray makes any color against it pop, and Skye is all color, from her red hair to her blue eyes, to her pink sweater that perfectly matches her cheeks on this ride, to her dark green boots.
“Do you have a story?”
She looks startled, so I clarify. “About the Loch Ness monster?”
“We all call her Nessie.”
“I’m catching on to that.” I laugh. “For some reason, it feels overly familiar for me. Like I haven’t earned it yet or something. Have you seen it, though?”
Skye looks off in the distance. “Nessie stories are best told next to a fire, preferably with whiskey.”
“It’s a date, then.”
Her eyes twinkle when she turns back to face me, and my heart drops into my shoes. I’ve been telling myself I shouldn’t indulge my attraction toward her. But when she looks at me like that? It’s undeniable, forceful. It feels like an earthquake. I’m powerless to stop it. I just have to hold on tight and pray I don’t get clobbered.
Then she’s off again at a gallop.
We ride for a couple of hours before Skye stops in a small field on top of a hill. She ties Pippi up to a tree and pulls an apple out of her bag for her.
