Another question with no apparent answer.
He studied the forest, where ahead of him, the densely wooded slope rose at a sharp angle. To his left, the rise was more gradual, the trees giving way in a couple of spots to small grassy meadows. Further on, a craggy stone outcropping broke up the march of trees. To his right, everything dropped sharply into a deep narrow ravine, with a bald, grassy ridge beyond. Turning to look behind him, his newly beating heart picked up at the sight of a narrow road, snaking up from a long, thin valley below.
A boon! Roads led to people. Eventually, anyway. ’Twas at least a direction to pursue. Far better than spending his two days of mortality watching worms cavort across fallen strips of bark.
The space from hisresting placeto the road was clogged with thick grasses, dense underbrush, and slippery, gooey, mud that caked his boots and sent him to his knees more often than his pride wished to acknowledge. ’Twould take some time to readjust to balancing and coordinating his large stature with steady movement. By the time he reached the edge of the slimy road, he was almost as saturated with muck as it was.
Rainwater pooled in the many dips and hollows. Alistair studied the gouged path of uneven wheel tracks, far too wide to have been made by a wagon or cart. They seemed more the width of the wheels on vehicles that brought hordes of visitors to Culloden Moor. Judging by that, he kenned he’d no’ been sent back to his own time.
Wherethen, was he?
He couldna tell by the tracks if the traveler had been going up or down, but ’twas no use standing about wondering. ’Twas naught to do but follow the road down into the little valley, and hope it led to another, lower valley, where hopefully a village, or even a cottage, could be found. He studied the soupy road and its edge, littered with rocks, fallen logs, and uneven clumps of grass. ’Twould be more work to climb over all the debris, but mayhap wiser and no’ as frustrating as trudging, slipping, and likely falling repeatedly in the slimy mud. At least the road’s edge offered a bit of traction.
The rising sun warmed him as he moved along, but also began to dry the mud caking him until it resembled a brown, ill-fitting suit of armor. It tightened on his bare skin as if trying to suck out what little moisture it could find. The sun, however, dinna do much to lessen the muck he laboriously traipsed through.
He’d only managed a short distance when he came to a fallen tree that spanned the width of the road. The exposed roots and branches held it off the ground a little way, but not far enough that Alistair wanted to slither his bulk through the mud, beneath it. He’d have to climb over. Fortunately, a pile of rocks helped him get partway up, enabling him to pull himself the rest of the way, until he straddled the trunk.
Mayhap, if he stood on the raised bole, he’d have a better view of the valley below. He struggled to stand and maintain his balance with the slippery soles of his boots on the smooth white bark. For such a tall tree, the trunk was distressingly narrow. Alistair frowned as he teetered on the curved, rain-slick bark. Spreading his arms wide for balance, he strained to see as much as he could of the valley below, hoping for some sign of civilization beyond the long, winding road. There, on the left! A wisp of smoke?
Taxing his dormant muscles even further, he rose to his toes and stretched as far as he dared, leaning back just a bit to compensate. Nae, he realized dejectedly. ’Twas merely the last of the morning mist, hiding in the treetops.
Suddenly, his feet were above him as he flailed his arms through empty air. His back slammed against the pile of rocks, forcing the air from his newly working lungs in a powerful, painful rush as his head connected with stone, bounced once, then stilled, twisting his neck at an odd angle. Stunned for several seconds, he tried desperately, and unsuccessfully, to suck in more air as his vision dimmed and the sensation of blood, wet and warm oozed down the back of his skull.
He lay crumpled and bleeding, gasping for air that wouldn’t come and realized through a fog of pain and dimming awareness, that his mortality hadn’t even lasted an hour.
~ ~ ~
“Just a minute, Gus.” Brie Drummond finished typing the final paragraph of a scene, saved it and closed her laptop. “Are you sure you want to go for a run? It’s awfully wet out there.”
Gus barked excitedly, making three quick circles in front of the door, his wagging tail nothing but a blur. Laughing, Brie slipped on her Bogs and tucked sunglasses into her jacket pocket in case the sun decided to actually stay out this time.
“Okay, Gus,” Brie said, opening the door. “I guess three days of being cooped up from rain, is long enough. But we’ll both need a bath when we finish traipsing through all that wet grass and muck, so fair warning.”
Oblivious, Gus bounded onto the deck, down the steps and out the narrow lane before Brie had a chance to even shut the door. She’d only taken a few steps when she remembered to go back and lock the door. Despite loving the isolation afforded her by being the last cabin on a dead-end road, she’d be foolish to ignore warnings from the county sheriff and other cabin owners about the recent break-ins on the mountain.
She backtracked for a key, locked up and went to see what mischief Gus had gotten into. He was entirely too fond of squirrels and she didn’t need a repeat of last year, when he’d assumed a skunk to be just as harmless.
“Gus!” she called, even though he’d left a clear trail in the mud. It was nasty, sticky stuff, and as difficult to maneuver through as it would be to wash off. She was already calculating how many tubs of water it would take to get Gus’s thick, Border Collie coat back to a recognizable black-and-white.
At best, it would be several days before the roads dried out enough she could get her pickup down the slick, clay-packed mountain road, and into town. The sharp drop to the ravine a half-mile down, didn’t allow any room for mishaps. One of these years, she’d actually follow through with her threat to have enough gravel hauled in to make the turn safer. But better roads brought more traffic. A double-edged sword.
Thankfully, she had another week to get her revisions back to her editor. The lack of phone or internet access up here could be a hassle, but since there was nothing she valued more than her privacy, she still felt it was a good trade. Going into town every couple of weeks toconnect, suited her needs just fine.
Her thoughts drifted to the ‘wild-man’ or ‘mountain-man’, as the locals had dubbed whoever had been breaking into mountain cabins over the summer. Though not ready to totally dismiss any danger, she doubted he moved long distances between isolated cabins, carrying all his loot on his back. He had to have some kind of transportation. Which meant he wouldn’t be making the all but impossible trek to her remote cabin with these road conditions. Besides, so far, he’d never broken into an occupied cabin.
Though she had no intention of being careless, and had taken every logical precaution she could, she refused to be held hostage by fear of whatmighthappen. So, at least until the roads became passable, she intended to put him out of her mind. She’d see the sheriff for an update when she went into town. Who knows? They may have caught him by now.
Brie had barely made it from her long, winding lane onto the slippery road—already regretting leaving her walking stick behind—when Gus came bounding back, barking and circling her until she was mud-spattered and damp from her thighs down. He looked up at her, pawed her leg and whined, then ran ahead, stopping once to look back at her, bark again, and go on.
At least she hadn’t smelled skunk. “Okay, I’m coming,” she laughed when Gus barked again, “but this road is downhill and slippery, and I don’t want to fall.”
Gus turned a couple more circles and raced ahead, disappearing around the turn. Regretting giving in to a walk on a day like this, Brie worked her way down the soupy road, picking the firmest spots she could find.
She expected Gus to come racing back, or at least to hear his bark, but minutes passed, and he didn’t return. She tried to hurry, moving when she could to the side of the road for firmer footing, but she kept being forced back onto the road by deadfall and debris too dense to push through, or climb over.
Finally, she rounded the curve and saw Gus about forty feet ahead, whining and pawing at something on the side of the road, near a fallen tree. She sighed. Moving that tree out of the road meant an entire afternoon, a chain saw, tow-chains and her truck, to drag the sawed logs out of the way. There was no way she’d attempt anything like that, this close to the drop-off until she had firm ground beneath her.
Frowning, she searched the treetops for the sun that teased and dappled the ground through the branches, warming her enough to make her want to shed her jacket. Then just as quickly, it ducked behind a cloud dark enough to threaten more rain. There was nothing to do but head home and wait for Mother Nature to decide what she was doing. Days like this could sometimes turn into a week or more, supporting her habit of keeping extra supplies at the cabin.
