It’s almost too ironic to bear.
“Here, drink this.”
I sit up as best I can and take the mixture, which she’s decanted into a stubby ceramic cup. “What is it?”
“You wouldn’t drink it if I told you.”
I shrug, knowing whatever she said wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t take this pain any longer. I sip the brew, but reel back at the foul taste. She lifts her brow as if to say, “Go on.” So I pinch my nose and down it in one.
“Good boy,” she says. “That’s just the start. Lie down and close your eyes.”
I do as I’m told, and I don’t move as she begins rubbing something soft and cool onto my skin.
It doesn’t take long until the pain starts to subside and I drift off to sleep. But the last image I remember is Jasper’s face as he left the cabin. The look of sad resignation, regret. Will this pain go away completely, or will Jasper always be the thing that hurts me most?
IN THE SHADOW OF THE VALLEY
When I wake up, the wind has stopped howling and the world feels still. I place a hand gingerly on my forehead: my skin is dry, and the pain is gone. Rubbing my face, I open my eyes and wait as they adjust.
My body is tired and heavy as I sit up and take in the room. The door is ahead of me; between me and it are a crooked old table and chairs where a vase of dried flowers sits amongst a mess of strewn books, mugs, and used plates. A basic kitchenette is to the left of the door, and a tapestry hangs beside me with some sort of swirling circular inscription woven into it. In the opposite corner are an armchair and a lamp with a stained-glass shade.
What is this place? It’s rustic and chaotic, eclectic, and yet it somehow makes sense.
Something is scratching at the back of my neck, and when I go to rub it I realize it’s a piece of string. Hanging on my chest is an emblem made of bent sticks and straw—a circle with what looks like an eye, or maybe it’s a mountain, or a wolf’s head, in the center.
From what I can see, nobody’s here. Next to the bed is a glass of water, and as I gulp it down I realize I’m starving.
“Hey? Hello?”
In the next room comes a banging sound, then a rattling, and then a guy steps though the beaded curtain. I squint at him. I’ve seen him before, he’s Puffer Coat Guy. Only he isn’t wearing his puffer now, because he gave it to—a vague memory pops into my head and then it’s gone. He’s a lot younger than I thought, around my age. His dark hair is closely cropped, he has amazingly intense bushy eyebrows that almost meet in the middle, and wonderful blue eyes. He’s wearing waterproof pants and a white T-shirt under a blue flannel that’s covered in dark oil stains.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” he says, his voice deep but warm.
“Where is…?”
“Agatha had to go into town.”
“Jasper.”
“Oh, him.” The guy rolls his eyes. “Probably still wandering about in the snow.”
I shake my head, trying to figure out what’s going on, and the guy just stares at me like he doesn’t know that he should be explaining, double-time.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
Not what I want from him, but not inconsiderate I suppose.
“Okay, my headache is gone, I’m just a bit tired.”
“Takes a lot of energy to cope with that much pain. You slept for a long time though. It’s nearly nine-thirty.”
“At night?!” Immediately, I try to swing my legs out of the bed but am overcome by a dizzy spell and have to lean back. The guy doesn’t move to help, just sort of laughs and shrugs a little.
“You should probably stay where you are.”
He eyes me kind of seriously and something in me clicks. I have no idea who this guy is, or Agatha. I don’t know how long I’ve been out and I don’t know where Jasper is. Who knows what’s happened since I passed out.
“I have to see Jasper now,” I mutter as I manage to swing my legs out and attempt to stand. Stumbling forward, my feet and legs not ready to hold me upright, I tumble right into the guy’s arms—which are surprisingly strong.
