“Four days,” Neve said, holding her jacket tight around herself as she stood with me at the edge of the ravine, lips pressed together in a pale line. “Cameron’s been gone for four days, Marin. I—it’s been two since—since—”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Neve,” I whispered. “I’m sure they’re both fine.” I swallowed bile. I’d been puking up everything I’d eaten for those past few days, unable to shake the feeling that something had just gone terribly, horribly wrong. I’d tried to tell myself it was morning sickness, but it was a lie. It was something else.
The nightmares hadn’t helped, dreams of a life my soul had lived but I hadn’t, of a past that wasn’t mine. They were images of a war that I had never fought and didn’t want to remember. The others knew something was wrong with me, but no one pried. That was Thom’s job, and Thom wasn’t here.
Please let them be okay.
“We need to—”
“We don’t have the resources or manpower to send anyone else out there,” I said. “And I’m not going to ask anyone to go out there anyway, not with the weather that’s blowing in from out over the lake.”
“There’s always weather blowing in over the lake,” Neve snarled, spinning away from the edge of the ravine and starting to limp toward the walls, toward the gate. “That’s never stopped us from sending anyone from doing anything, now has it?”
“Neve, calm down.”
“No,” she said, turning toward me again as I jogged to catch up with her. “No, I will not calm down because I’ve got no reason to calm down. Cameron is out there somewhere fighting god knows what to rescue my idiot cousin from who the hell knows. My back still feels like it’s on bloody fire and it’s been two days since that started and it can only mean that one of them is hurt badly. It’s sure as hell not my stupid brother at this distance and intensity.”
I swallowed whatever I was about to say. She was right to worry, right to be bent out of shape. I didn’t have any right to tell her not to be.
Except that I did. My husband was out there, too, right alongside Cameron. I loved Phelan just as much as she did, despite the lack of close blood ties. We were still his family, too. He was one of us.
“Going crazy doesn’t do any of us any good at this point,” I said quietly. I reached out and touched her stomach for a bare moment before I withdrew my gloved hand. She winced and looked away.
“I’m just scared,” she said softly. “I can’t do this alone.”
“There is zero possibility in the universe of you having to do anything alone,” I told her, sliding my arm around her shoulders. She sighed and leaned on me, closing her eyes.
“I’m so scared.”
“I am, too,” I said. “You’re not alone in that, either.”
We stood in the snow for a long moment before she cleared her throat and asked, “Marin, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll think of something.” I exhaled a breath in a trail of steam, staring blankly as it dissipated in the chill air. There wasn’t much more we could do. The gates stood open. The volunteers on watch were on high alert, watching for even the smallest sign of anyone’s return. I wasn’t sure how much sleep Paul was getting based on how much time he spent in the watchtower, looking for some sign that Thom and Thordin, Rory, Jacqueline, Cameron, and Phelan were coming home. We even left the gates opeen a night, something that had some of us sleeping lightly in our beds for fear of attack, but we didn’t dare close them just in case.
Everything was just in case.
It was down to hoping right now, and every minute that passed, hope died a little more.
“Come on,” I murmured. “Let’s get back to the fire and have something hot to drink. Maybe I’ll actually manage to keep it down this time.”
“You seemed like you did okay with it this morning.”
“So far, anyway.” I sighed. “Let’s hope that luck holds.”
They have to make it back soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Neve squeezed my hand gently and we headed back to the tents and the warmth of the fire. At least in there, we would have company to distract us from the worst of our fears–even if we shared them with everyone around us.
There was something to be said for collective distraction.
Winters make everything worse. I should know I live on the glacier in Minnesota! LOL
Something about howling winds, icy air, low grey clouds.. all add up to eerie scenes.
Thanks for the update.. Good story.
I live in Michigan myself, so I have some sympathy for that! The area where I’ve dropped our heroes is actually also an area prone to a very large amount of lake effect snow, which makes things even worse for our heroes.
I’m glad you’re still enjoying the story!