I don’t know how I expect to make it all the way back to the cabin, but I know I have to try. I can’t wait for them to rescue me. Khalil and Thorin will check Maia, but they won’t think to look for us onthisside of the mountain. It could be days before they are desperate enough to consider it.
Unable to take another step, I lean against the boulder at the base of the rocky path and tell myself I’ll only need a few minutes. After ten, I still haven’t moved. All that lies before me is more desert. Without the high vantage point the cave provided, I’m quickly disoriented. I have no idea which way to fucking go.
I’m contemplating hiking back up to the cave to reset when I lean back to stretch my sore muscles and my fingers brush something damp and soft like a sponge. Standing, I limp aroundthe boulder I was using like a chair, and my heart speeds up a little when I find a patch of moss growing on the opposite side.
There was some of it in the cave, but I’d been too focused on leaving to consider what it meant.
Moss means moisture.
Moisture means I’m not going to fucking die.
There’s more of it on the rocks ahead, the moss growing thicker until it covers most of the surface on the rocks and mountain face. I follow that life-saving green with my gaze to a gap in the wall that would have been easy to miss without the moss pointing to it like an arrow. The passage is narrow, only wide enough for one person to fit through at a time, but already I can see moisture clinging to the walls.
Ignoring the pain in the soles of my feet, I jog toward the gap. It’s a tight squeeze, and I wonder how Bane carried me through it. It had to be him since Zeke, and even Seth, would have had the self-preservation to go back to the cabin.
It takes me a few minutes to reach the other end of the passage, and when I do, I’m met with the most beautiful sight.
Foliage.
Some of the trees are downturned from the storm, and I can see rain clouds in the distance. I’m limping along the soggy earth that is like a balm to my abused feet, and after a while my dried skin and hair becomes damp from the mist cooling the air.
Despite feeling closer to home, my steps become slower and slower, but I force myself to keep going. I keep pushing toward the storm that marks my way home. I know I’m getting close when the sky grows darker, and the mist becomes a steady drizzle.
The ground is becoming dangerously slick, and I have my arms up to keep my balance as I hurry down the slope. The muscles in my calves are twinging from the abuse, but I ignorethem too as that voice in my head returns telling me togo, go, go.
The rain is coming down in sheets now, but I can’t stop, not even when my body begs me to risk taking some of the rainwater in my palm and drink. I’m pushing my body too far. It’s been hours since I had anything to eat or drink, I’m wounded, and I might have a concussion from whatever knocked me out.
Brightly colored spots begin to shield my vision, and my tongue feels like sandpaper.
A wave of dizziness overcomes me, and the world begins to shift. I’m falling before I even realize I’ve lost control, and the last thing I see before I lose consciousness is a blurred figure walking through the storm toward me.
I’m back in the cave again, and it’s still storming.
It feels like déjà vu when I sit up, but this time, I’m not alone. I can’t see him, but I can feel his dark influence like a band around my neck telling me to stay. I don’t move from the slab—mostly because my feet are throbbing like they’ve been scraped with a cheese grater and slapped on a hot grill. The cave is cold, and I think about starting a fire when my thoughts should be on how to escape. When I shiver for the fourth time, I give in and start a fire. I have a hell of a time finding dry kindling and a stick and flint to start it with though.
Once the first of the flames burst to life, I stay crouched and wrap my arms around myself as I look around the now-lit cave to ensure myself I’m alone.
I’m not.
There’s a thump of panic against my chest when I spot a shadow larger than the others hovering near the back of the cave. I keep my gaze on it and wait for him to step out into the light, but he doesn’t. He continues to hover there as if I’m the one needing hiding from.
“I know you’re there,” I call out hoarsely. My throat feels raw from thirst. “Show yourself.”
Finally, the shadow moves and parts from the others against the corner of the cave where the faint light of the fire doesn’t quite reach, but I don’t need it to know it’s him.
Bane.
There’s no question of that now, and I feel foolish for not recognizing that he wasn’t Zeke or Seth earlier. Except he looks at me like they do—like I’m already his.
I almost forget to be afraid because the weight of his stare feels so very familiar, but from Bane, the feeling is more like a freefall than an anchor.
Zeke’s vengeful alter. His sword.
I used to think that was what Seth was until I saw for myself how eager he is to share his heart and affection and to be loved and accepted in return. He’s dangerous, but only makes me feel like I’m wrapped in a warm blanket and protected.
But that isn’t Bane. I have no idea what he dreams of or what he wants. And I realize it’s the unknown that makes him so terrifying. I hop up when he gets too close and back away despite my ravaged feet.
“Juuu-sss-ttt stay right there. D-d-don’t come any closer.” I hold up a hand that ends up pressed against his scalding-hot chest when he ignores me.
