Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Pulling a couple hundred pounds of supplies on his sled didn’t slow Cian much. The snow was packed nicely, and a layer of ice from the previous night’s rain made his burden capable of moving at whatever speed he chose.
Typically, he took his time on the return trip. He dreaded leaving the world of man behind him. No matter how long he and John visited, it was never long enough. And now that Effie was gone, John needed those long visits as much as Cian did.
Just not today.
Cian grumbled beneath his breath. “Why cannae auld women leave their noses on their faces?”
Just then, a strong arm of wind pushed from the side and lifted a large ball of wind-rolled snow off the ground to smash into his head.
He stopped to shake the cold stuff out of his ear and bent to keep the sled from flying into his legs.
As he straightened, he watched the skyline disappear.
Walls of white mist moved in on all sides to engulf him, and the wind lifted the top layer of ice crystals off the snow and flung them in his face.
It seemed the self-proclaimed witches had been right about the storm. He should have suggested he wait out the weather with John, but it was too late now. He was halfway home.
To cheer himself, he imagined that next trip to Aviemore.
There was so much he wanted to learn. So much he’d missed in that flash of time between the day he’d stood defending himself on the battlefield and the sudden night he’d found himself in, with that same battlefield beneath his boots—a battlefield that had completely changed in a few erratic beats of his heart.
A battlefield suddenly devoid of 8000 Redcoats.
With a powerful gust, the wind changed direction, but I regularly checked my compass to keep my heading straight. Following my own tracks didn’t last long, but I’d be fine. The forest was off to my right now, somewhere. The trail was due to narrow soon. My head was on straight again.
Turning back had been the smart move, and my muscles warmed up nicely. I concentrated on efficiency of movement. “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”
I started counting, calculating. I hated the feel of a watch, so I never wore one.
There was no coverage in the mountains, away from the Visitor’s Center, so I’d left my phone in a locker.
I had no way to gauge the passage of time, except for counting.
My strides were close enough to a second each, so I used that tempo and rounded up a little.
Every five minutes, I wiped the snow and ice from my lenses and rubbed my ears through the layers.
Fingers and toes were fine. Circulation good. When I hit half an hour, I stopped to put a heat patch on the back of my shoulders. Worked like a charm.
Count. Do the math. Check the compass.
Count. Do the math. Check my compass.
A drink every quarter of an hour. A minute of whistling, then move on.
When I hit an hour and a half, I kept the whistle tucked into my mask and whistled every five minutes. Just to keep the whistle from freezing, I told myself. Not because I was freaking out.
I almost cried when I found myself sliding up to a treeline. I went deeper until I found a felled log to rest on. A break from the wind. A break from counting.
I realized I was starving and dug out some snacks. I told myself I should ration my food along with my heat packs, but I couldn’t stop myself. Staring down at three empty wrappers, I refused to chide myself. Freaking out was hard work.
I wasn’t any better with the water, but at least I could refill my containers with snow that would eventually melt.
I whistled for a bit, listened more hopefully. If I had missed Glenmore, I should have passed civilization a half hour ago. I should have come across a road, even a snow-packed one. I had been watching, not wallowing or zoning out. I’d been watching like my life depended on it.
Which, ya know…
I closed my eyes for a few minutes, just to warm them up. I counted again, heartbeats, out loud, to make sure I didn’t fall asleep.
The original route had included the Ryovan Pass and a bridge in there somewhere.
Nessy or Nethy Bridge maybe? The whole trip was to last 2.
5 to 3 hours depending on skill. I figured they wouldn’t start worrying for another 30 minutes.
Half an hour after that, they’d be out looking in force, weather allowing.
Phillip and Margo were probably already in a hot tub or enjoying a hot lunch.
I was such an idiot. I’d gone too far in who knows what direction. If there were markers, I hadn’t seen one, even while I was still with the group.
Somewhere, very far away, some animal called out.
Definitely not a wolf, I told myself. A fox or something? I conjured the picture of something cute and furry and incredibly terrified of humans. It was the only image I could handle. I had a can of something similar to bear spray, though I knew for a fact there were no bears in Scotland.
I was fine.
Absolutely fine.
However, sitting still and waiting to make friends with Scottish beasts was a bad plan.
So I peed, put a fresh patch on my chest, and bundled back up.
I carried my skis to the edge of the trees and stepped back into them.
A few years ago, I could have outpaced anything on snow.
I figured, if I were scared enough, I could still do it.
I pulled out my compass again and stared in shock when it swung around a few times and pointed in a direction I knew was wrong. I’d checked it just before finding the trees. It should have pointed to my right!
Now it pointed straight ahead.
Impossible!
I stared into the vertically flying snow and tried to see beyond it. I saw a large dark shadow—a grayness that had to be a mountain, or maybe just the stormy sky. And then a flash of light!
It disappeared so quickly, I wondered if it was my brain misfiring. It had been blue. Like…like nothing I could explain.
I pulled out my whistle and blew hard, three times. Then I tried S.O.S. Then hard and long until I started seeing stars swirling around my head like in cartoons. I knew those weren’t real. And they also weren’t blue.
It had come from straight ahead. Same direction my broken compass told me to go. So I started moving. If there was nothing out there but snow, I would dig a cave for the night. Less chance of animals finding me than sitting on a log.
That was my backup plan. My first plan was to find that light.