27. The Highlands
The Highlands
O n the hot midmorning of the third day, they reached the foot of the mountains. There was no gradual rise in gradient. The entry into the rainforest wilderlands was only accessible through a steep, narrow set of stairs that rose almost vertically up the high plateau to the whole different world that awaited them. The hunting party were required to leave their horses behind, guarded by Philomena and Bruce, as the rest of them began their ascent on foot.
The vertical climb lasted a full day, and it was nightfall when they finally reached the top. As they set up camp, Mila informed them the journey would be comparatively flat from then on and this drew an audible, collective sigh of relief from the group.
But their relief was short lived as the next few days were equally arduous, for different reasons. The humidity had been growing incrementally every day since they left Jeralusah, but now in the thick heat of the rainforest, they were also dealt wet, foggy mornings and thunderstorms that fell with clock-like precision every afternoon. Nothing they carried was ever truly dry again. Not their skin, shoes, clothes or bedding. Waterlogged food, such as their traveller’s bread, was swiftly discarded, and their nights were now haunted by the unending wails of mosquitos and the accompanying slapping of hands on skin.
Despite all this, the Artor Trading Company uniform bore up well under the assaulting environment. It was a fit-for-purpose outfit that was also quite flattering, and for Mila, seeing the group of them all similarly dressed, pushing through the brutal undergrowth, was a striking sight. Their long-sleeved shirts were made of a thin, creamy fabric with a collar that could be buttoned high to protect the neck or left open to allow airflow onto the chest. Each person wore their shirt tucked neatly into light brown shorts that were looped with a leather utility belt. This belt allowed easy access to small essentials, such as knives, water flasks and rope. They each also wore protective leathers on their forearms and sturdy brown leather boots that rose to midcalf but came equipped with an interesting flap that allowed the ankle piece of the boot to be pulled and stretched all the way up to cover the knee if required. This had been a last-minute addition from the Culis Manor seamstress after Mila had advised them that, once they reached the mountain paths, they’d want the additional protection from leeches. The attire was all held together with a sophisticated yet sturdy buckle that had the Artor Trading Company crest etched upon it. This sat proudly on the front of the belt.
After just two days in the Highlands, despite the protection of their attire, Mila was the only member of the party not overcome with misery. In fact, she felt quite the opposite. Not only had she learned about Keras, a country where, if she could find it, she could finally live free from the Church. But also, she’d made friends with this group of humans and had found a sense of freedom here, in this world. Something that she never thought she’d feel .
The combination of these two revelations, coupled with drinking in the sweet, wet air of her homeland, filled her with so much energy and happiness that she often found herself quite literally bounding ahead with glee.
She spent the next few days running ahead through the undergrowth and then doubling back to encourage and tease the hunting party through a particularly difficult passage. She felt her strength and vitality coming back in waves and marvelled at the returning strength of her body. Sometimes, when the morale of the group seemed particularly low, she’d create ridiculous songs and use the rhythmic slapping of their hands against the barrage of bugs as her percussive accompaniment, trying to make them laugh. She felt overcome by mania. The happiness and overwhelming relief was all-consuming, and she willingly let herself soak in it, as if those feelings were a drug and she a long-denied addict.
Culis lost his patience with her unrelenting vibrancy on the fifth day after he accidentally dropped his last pair of dry socks in a leech-filled puddle of mud.
“Are you actually from hell, little demon?” he demanded. “Is this what hell is? Is that why you’re so happy in this cesspit?”
She felt so untouchable that she just laughed at his words, truly finding them amusing.
“You’ve given me this,” she replied with a broad smile, enjoying his look of confusion. It brought her even more glee, and feeling slightly hysterical, she leaned forward, seized his hand, and twirled herself beneath it, finishing with a flourishing curtsy.
Baird, who was nearby, packing his own rucksack, snorted with laughter at the exchange, but doubled over when he saw Culis’s astonished face.
“What on earth do you mean?” Culis spluttered .
Mila noted with pleasure that he was flushing pink, and she considered it a profound victory to have unsettled him. Culis prided himself on never being caught socially unprepared.
“No more hiding!” she trilled, her arms thrown wide. “Thanks to you, everyone in the nation now knows I’m a demon. No more pretending for me, no more fear of exposure. I’ve carried a death sentence upon my shoulders for my whole life, and this week, it feels like it’s been dissolved. You’ve no idea the weightlessness I feel.”
With that, she spun off around the trees, feeling utterly childlike. When she came back, Culis had a broad grin on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s rare for him to see someone so happy in his presence,” Baird chortled, pushing past them.
“It’s rare,” Culis corrected, “to see you so happy. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you smile before.” He paused for a moment, surveying her face intently before speaking again. “It’s lovely. I hope it lasts.”
The tenderness in the sentiment was unexpected, and Mila studied him back in return, wondering if he was being genuine. It appeared he was. A spark of warmth for the man rose inside her, and she turned away, unwilling to let him see it. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely as self-centred as she’d presumed.
Unfortunately, as they drew closer to their destination, the joy began to wear off. If someone had asked under what circumstances she ever expected to be back in the Highlands, returning on a demon hunt would never have occurred to her. It wouldn’t even have made the list of possibilities. And yet here she was, leading Culis and the Artor Trading Company militia through the thin, winding routes that led deeper and deeper into the rainforest. What would Natalee think of her? Would she even find any other demons ?
She cursed Culis as her sombre mood slowly returned, and as they drew closer and closer to Natalee’s village, Mila suddenly found herself sleepless with worry and doubt once again.