Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
It's two weeks before I can get back out to the waypoint. We have a few unseasonably warm days, so I pack up my stuff and head out to the mountain.
I don't tell Mackenzie I'm going.
Even though the wound on my head is mostly closed up, I know she would insist on following me out, and I don't think I can take another afternoon of her complaining.
I pull my beanie down further on my head. It's a sunny day, but in the forest, where the sun can't quite reach me, I'm getting chilled.
I look down at my compass app. I'm so close now. I can feel the shift in the air, the energy almost tangible along my skin. I've always been able to feel it, even when no one else could.
The wind drops. The trees go still, and I instinctively stop walking, my boots no longer crunching through the snow.
A buzz starts against my ears, like a swarm of bees. It gets louder and louder, causing the cut on my head to pulse.
Maybe I shouldn't have done this. If I pass out, I'll probably die here. Damn it.
I turn back. I'm just going to have to try again in the spring.
I take two steps and stop, my eyes catching on something on the path ahead. A man.
I can tell it's a man, broad shoulders, narrow waist, tall, at least six feet. But he's far enough away that I can't make out any of his features, can't see his face.
And yet, when he speaks, I hear his voice like he's right beside me.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
I'm frozen to my spot. Half curiosity, half terror.
Holy shit. What do I do if this person standing between me and the way back home wants to hurt me? I’m alone in the woods, and I have a fucking concussion.
“What do you want?” I ask. I yell it, even though I know I don't have to. It's like I know deep down that if he could speak to me the way he did, he certainly can hear me in the same way.
“I’m not sure,” the man says back, voice gentle, deep but delicate. The voice from my dream last night. Because it was a dream, wasn’t it? “But I've been waiting.”
He hasn't made a move toward me. I feel that if he was going to attack, he would have done it by now.
I walk slowly toward him, aware that the sun is setting quickly, the sky turning gray. I can't hang around here much longer. I'm going to get lost in the woods.
Finally, the man walks slowly toward me as I walk toward him, like he's matching my pace, mirroring me. Getting closer, my breath gets caught in my throat. He's naked, not a stitch of clothing on him, and his skin… His skin is an ashen blue.
“Are you sick?” I ask. “Or lost? In danger?”
“No,” he says, voice casual, careful. “No, I was waiting,” he says again.
“For what?” I ask.
“For you.”