They clambered back into the gig and went on their way. The mule’s ears twitched constantly. Charlotte made Elspeth wrap back up in her cloak, worrying over her; she was ashen, clammy.
After a long while, Elspeth rasped, “I thought it was Maggie.”
“I know.”
“Don’t know why I thought it. Daft of me.”
“It wasn’t—”
“It was. You know it was.” A pause. “Do you think she’s alive?”
Charlotte fidgeted with John’s ring. Maggie had gone missing over two weeks ago. Hard enough to believe Arthur might have survived, and he’d entered the forest so much more recently.
Elspeth glanced at her. Dried mud crusted her trousers and shirt. “You don’t think so.”
“I don’t know.”
Elspeth turned away. “That means you don’t think so.”
Charlotte bit back the urge to snap. “It means I don’t know.”
They drove on in silence. Elspeth shuddered periodically, batting nothing from her trousers. Charlotte resisted batting, because it was foolish. The fingers weren’t there. She curled her toes in her shoes, focusing on that feeling instead of phantom hands reaching for her.
The gig bumped over a dip, and pain shot through her. Charlotte wished the forest floor were smoother. She rubbed John’s wedding ring.
Elspeth glanced over, eyes lingering on the ring, and cleared her throat.
“Thanks. For that. Back there.”
“It was nothing.”
“They tried to get you, too. Could’ve left me.”
“No I couldn’t.”
Elspeth bit her lip. “Well, thanks.”
Warmth fizzed under Charlotte’s skin. Foolishness. They grated on each other, she and Elspeth, and they’d known each other only a few days. Anyone with any decency would’ve done the same in Charlotte’s place.
The trees opened up, the land fell away, and they were on a bluff overlooking the sea. Late afternoon sunlight stabbed orangely across the sky.
Charlotte’s breath hitched at the sight. The forest was so close, so dim. Suffocating. The sea may have stolen Charlotte’shusband, but she’d never lived out of its sight. She knew how dangerous it could be, but it was steady, too, predictable in its tides. It was the warp and woof of her life. She’d never slept without the roar of it outside her window as waves crashed at the bottom of the cliff.
The trees on the cliffside were stunted but mercifully free of black veins. A rowan with fernlike leaves turning orange and clusters of bright red berries clung to the rocks. The air was more seasonable here, not the biting cold of winter but chilly as a wind swept in off the sea. Charlotte breathed deeply, glorying in the wild, salty air.
“Missed the sea breezes more’n I thought,” Elspeth said.
“Me, too.”
“Might as well stop here a spell. Could use a rest, after... all that.” Elspeth climbed out of the gig, unhitched the mule, and pulled a bag from under the cross-seat. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take my chances out here than in there while we eat anyhow.”
“Amen,” Charlotte said fervently.
Elspeth yanked clean clothes from her bag. Pulling her muddy shirt off, she turned away, but not before Charlotte glimpsed the curve of a breast. Reddening, she turned resolutely the other way.
After they’d eaten, Charlotte examined Elspeth’s shoulder. Since she’d unhitched the mule easily, Charlotte had already decided her shoulder probably wasn’t dislocated, but she checked anyway. It wasn’t displaced or swollen.
“Strained, I think, not dislocated.”
