“Yes, very,” Nora agreed, glancing back at the woman. There was something oddly familiar about her; a sense of déjà vu nagged at the corners of Nora’s mind, as if they had crossed paths before, but that couldn’t be possible.
The path grew steeper as they ascended the sloping hill toward the looming mountain ahead. Nora had to carry Lochland a few times through the deeper drifts. The snow slowed their progress, each step a struggle against the relentless winds that hit them from all sides. As the snowfall intensified, obscuring their view of the mountain’s peak, they reached the towering pine trees that marked the edge of the forest. Alistair halted, scanning their surroundings for a suitable spot to gather firewood.
“I see a fallen tree over this way. Why don’t you gather as many small sticks as you can for kindling?” he called out, his voice barely audible over the howling wind that swept along the ridgeline.
Nora entered the wooded area where the trees’ canopy had shielded the ground from heavy snowfall. Lochland sniffed around the base of a tree, chasing a squirrel that had just scurried away. Bending down, she picked up a large stick and broke it into smaller sections, carried the pieces back, and deposited them in the sled. As she ventured farther into the thicket, she heard the echoing sounds of Alistair’s axe cutting wood to her left and Lockland’s rustling in pursuit of the squirrel to her right.
Despite the biting cold seeping through her mittens and jeans, Nora pressed on, gathering as many sticks as she could find. With each trip back to the sled, she felt a warmth spreading through her body, yet she remained cold from the biting winds.
Just as she dropped off another load of sticks, Alistair appeared, carving a path through the snow with a pile of logs in his arms. Nora’s heart skipped at the sight of him, his cheeks flushed withexertion and a glint of sweat on his forehead. He placed the wood into the sled before wiping his brow and turning to her.
“I have about three more armfuls to bring back. I see you’ve had success as well,” he said, pointing at the large cluster of sticks she had stacked up in the sled.
“There’s more if you think we need it,” Nora replied.
“It definitely won’t hurt. Gather what you can. We might have to make a couple of trips up here. Let’s stack whatever we can’t fit in the sled under this pine. It should keep it somewhat dry until we can come back later,” Alistair suggested before pulling his hat back on and heading back up the path to resume chopping wood.
Nora ventured back onto the small path she had made when Lockland came running up to her with a stick in his mouth, dropping it at her feet. She smiled and picked it up, giving it a good toss into the woods. He turned tail and sprinted after it, coming back a moment later to drop it at her feet again.
“I see you like to fetch,” she said with a smile, giving the stick a harder throw deeper into the woods. A minute later, he came running back through the thick underbrush and dropped the stick at her feet again.
“Okay, but this is the last time,” she said, throwing the stick as hard as she could. Lochland dashed out of sight into the undergrowth. Nora waited, but he didn’t return. A worried ache grew in her belly, and she followed his footprints into the dense patch of woods.
There was no point in calling his name since he wouldn’t know it yet, so she continued to follow his tracks instead. She traveled farther into the thicket, making sure to keep her bearings as this part of the forest was much denser than the rest. Stuart’s warning about people straying and becoming lost kept her on high alert.
Ducking and moving aside small saplings, she continued forward in the direction he had gone. Rustling in the trees ahead caught her attention, and she followed the sound, along with his prints until she discovered Lochland sitting with a branch in his mouth. But it wasn’t the stick she had thrown him; this one was full of berries.
“What are you doing, silly dog?” she said, and he looked up at her with his mysterious eyes of blue and brown. He leaped toward her and dropped the stick adorned with late fall berries at her feet. Nora smiled. “That’s not the stick I threw. Where did you get this?” she said, picking up the small branch.
Curious to find where he had gotten the stick, she followed the little dog’s trail deeper into the woods until it stopped. When she looked up, she saw a tree laden with dried clusters of reddish berries, hanging like frozen jewels in the frosty air.
She recognized the tree as the same one from the photo album. She walked over, pulled off a cluster of berries, inspected them closely, and tucked them into her pocket. She wasn’t sure why she did it, but something deep within was guiding her.
Suddenly the wind picked up and whistled through the trees. There was something odd about the sound, almost musical. She stood still and listened intently in the direction of the wind. She caught the sound of a melody in the air—a soft, beautiful voice. Was it the woman on the hillside singing, her song echoing up the mountainside? No, the voice was coming from deeper in the forest, in the opposite direction.Who would be up here in this kind of weather?she thought. Then she remembered why Alistair and she were here in the first place and thought maybe someone else was up here also looking for wood.
“Hello?” she called out, listening for a reply, but none came. Just the sweet notes of the song upon the wind was all she couldhear. She strained her ears to listen, to make out the words floating in the frosty breeze. Lochland let out a low growl, interrupting the song and hindering her ability to discern the words.
“Lochland, shh,” Nora whispered as the haunting song carried back to her on the wind. Lochland began barking fearfully, as if he were warning her of impending danger. Then the forest took on an eerie unnatural darkness. A sense of foreboding washed over her. Something felt wrong. She strained to listen once more, but this time the wind had calmed, and the forest had fallen silent. No rustling leaves, no birds, no woodland creatures—just an unsettling stillness.
Lochland remained on high alert, and then she heard it again—the sweet lullaby carried by the wind, but this time it sounded broken and jumbled, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. When she turned to head back to the clearing, she was disoriented and unsure of the right direction. The thick falling snow had all but covered her footprints.
Her heart raced, and panic bubbled up as a primal fear settled deep within her belly. Somehow she instinctively knew that whoever or whatever was singing was not to be trifled with. Trying to quell her rising anxiety, she broke into a run, her feet dragging in the deepening snow, desperate to escape the wooded area. Lochland kept pace, the wind carrying the distorted song once more. Devoid of its former sweetness, the tune sounded sharp and shrill, almost ghostly. Glancing over her shoulder, Nora felt a darkness approaching, though nothing was there. As she turned, her foot caught in the hidden roots of a tree, and she fell hard to the ground, her ankle twisting at an odd angle.
Nora screamed in pain, but her sharp cry seemed swallowed by the vastness of the woods. Lochland, alarmed by her distress, turned and ran to her side. Frightened and desperate to escape,Nora attempted to stand, but her injured ankle gave way, and she collapsed back to the icy snow. Lochland whimpered before letting out a loud bark and darting off into the thicket, leaving her alone and vulnerable in the biting cold.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Song on the Wind
Nora surveyed her surroundings, the gravity of her situation sinking in. The heavy snowfall had buried her tracks, making it nearly impossible for Alistair to trace her path. She had no idea how deep she had wandered into the woods, and with dusk approaching, the likelihood of him finding her was growing slimmer by the minute.
The icy unforgiving air seemed to pierce through her layers of clothing, and she zipped her jacket all the way up as she sat on the frozen ground. She looked back over her shoulder as the song seemed to be drawing closer. Within moments, the melody became so close she was able to make out a few stray words, but they were sharper and more shrill than before.
“Alistair,” she called out, stricken with panic. She listened fora reply but none came. The only sound was the song, now cutting vigorously through the wind.
“Alistair!” she yelled again as she jammed her fingers into her ears to block out the awful melody.
Once serene in its wintry beauty, her surroundings now felt ominous and threatening, especially with the haunting realization that Cora had injured her leg in a similar fashion. Nora hadn’t finished reading the chapter and had no idea what might lay ahead. Colin had believed the book to be cursed—what if she had cursed herself by reading it? Each shallow breath she took struggled to fill her lungs, leaving her gasping for air as panic tightened around her chest. A disorienting dizziness swept over her, making the world tilt at odd angles. The energy within her surged, pulsing inside her like violent waves in a stormy sea. She opened her mouth to scream for Alistair again but couldn’t find her voice. Nothing but puffy gasps escaped from her lips.
