Aoife peeked out from under the tarp they’d battened down, warily eyeing their surroundings. The way their boat bobbed suggested that it had broken free of its mooring at the river’s edge and probably drifted downriver during the storm. Gray snored softly beside her, sprawled on the deck of the tiny sailboat they’d mostly paddled along rivers and through half-frozen lakes to get his far.
The storm that had caused them to stop and tether themselves to a likely tree root near the edge of the river had passed. Aoife could hear birds somewhere nearby, a welcome sound if she’d ever heard one. There hadn’t been any birds in months, not since winter had sunk its claws into the world. Maybe it was finally her season—maybe spring had finally come.
She moved the tarp and crawled out. It smelled like rain and the river and the melting snow and the sky was clear, full of stars above even as dawn nibbled at the edge of the horizon. She tugged her jacket a little closer around her body and exhaled, watching her breath steam in the starlight.
If not for the modern boat and the clothing, it might have been a thousand or more years ago, long ago and far away.
Gray stirred behind her, resting his hand against the small of her back. “We’re adrift,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Aoife nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think we’ve too far from where we were, though. Go back to sleep.”
“Just hope there’s not any rapids or anything like we had to portage back there.” Gray groaned and stretched, then quieted. “I don’t think my back’s ever going to forgive me for that.”
Aoife smiled at him. “Your back is never going to forgive you for sleeping in that position, either.”
“Also true.” He lifted their shared blanket. “Come back. It looks clear, right?”
“Yeah.” She exhaled. “And we’re close. When the sun rises, we should put the sails up. Try our luck.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Aoife said as she tucked herself against him. “But what else do we have?”
“A valid point.” Gray kissed her temple and wrapped the blanket around them both. “I hope you’re right. I’d like to meet your brother.”
“You say that now,” Aoife said with a wry smile. “We’ll see if you say it again after you meet him.”
“That bad?”
“He’s my brother.”
Gray chuckled softly. Aoife rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.
It would be good to see Phelan again—and soon.
