2. Wyatt
Wyatt
I crouch by the fire, stoking the flames to get them up a little higher, and cast a glance to the girl tucked under a blanket on the armchair opposite me.
I grimace. She’s still shivering. I’ve tried my best to warm her up, but I don’t want to move too quick or she could get chillblains. What the hell was she doing out there dressed like that, anyway?
In clothes so tight they look like underthings, in the middle of winter like this.
It’s a miracle I stumbled across her in time, not that she would have been easy to miss, with her red hair and olive skin.
She doesn’t look like she belongs here, though I can’t exactly work out why – still, not like I could have left her out there to die.
I’m not having that on my conscience, that’s for sure.
Outside, the wind howls against the windows, rattling them in the frame. The storm’ll be gone by the end of the night, I’m sure, but she’ll still be here, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with her now she is.
My mind drifts, briefly, to Boone and Elias, the wives they’ve taken in the last year or so. Both of them having appeared nigh- on out of nowhere, in the middle of the woods, in the midst of a storm, looking like they came from somewhere else entirely.
Is she one of them?
She might be. Until she wakes up, I guess I’m not going to have an answer.
I lift my hands to warm them in front of the fire, and, for a brief moment, my mind returns to the comforts of the town nearby.
I can practically hear my father in my head, trying to coax me back home again.
We’ve got everything you need here, boy, he’d tell me.
And when you find a wife, you’ll have even better reason to stay. ..
I push the thought from my mind and rise to my feet, checking the pot of stew that I’ve had cooking over the fire since we got back.
Not much in the way of good hunting out there, but I managed to pick up a couple of rabbits and a fox who I’ve skinned and added to the stew.
It’ll keep me going for the next few days – and her, too, since she’s here.
Not that I know anything about her.
Not that I know if she’ll even want to stay when she wakes up.
Finally, I hear movement behind me, and I glance around – her eyelids flutter, and she lifts her head, fingers bunching around the rough blanket I tossed over her when she came in.
Partly to keep her warm, and partly to keep my mind from getting too drawn in to the way that her body looks under the confines of those tight clothes.
Because then, I might have to admit that my reasons for bringing her here aren’t entirely altruistic. And it might have more to do with my body than the decency of my mind.
She looks around, her gaze bleary for a moment, and then her brow furrows. She sits bolt-upright, the blanket half-falling from her body, displaying the curve of her breast beneath her skintight shirt. I avert my eyes quickly.
"Where am I?" she demands, as she springs upright – but, it seems, the cold has seeped further into her bones than she realized, because she groans in pain, sinking back into chair and rubbing at her legs and arms.
"I brought you back to my cabin," I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can. "It was bitter cold out there. You wouldn’t have lasted long in that weather."
She roves her gaze towards me, narrowing her eyes.
"Did you take my phone?" she demands. I stare back at her, nonplussed.
"I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about."
"Well, I had a phone when I slipped into the water," she tells me accusatorily, stabbing her finger in my direction as she gathers the blanket around herself again. "And a whole pack, too. Someone must have taken it, and you’re the only person who-"
"I didn’t take anything from you," I retort hotly, unappreciative of her tone. She reels back slightly, and I realize I’ve been harsher than I need to be.
This girl was clearly on the brink of unconsciousness out there, no wonder she’s a little confused as to what the hell is going on. I haven’t had anyone in this house for long enough that it’s hard to remember how to act when someone is around like this, and I need to keep my tone in check.
She sighs, rolling her eyes skywards.
"Let me use your phone, then," she replies, glancing around. "What’s your wifi password..."
"What the hell are you talking about?”
She snorts slightly in surprise. Whatever answer she expected from me, that’s clearly not it.
"I’m sorry, what year are you from?" she asks, an edge of sarcasm to her voice.
"1857. What about you?”
As soon as I come out with that, all the color drains from her face. Her hands tighten on the blanket once again, so much so that her knuckles turn white.
"What?" she breathes, her eyes widening. She seems to be waiting for me to take it back and admit it’s nothing more than a joke, but I don’t see why I should.
Did this girl just drop out of the damn sky? She’s sure acting like it, I just don’t know why.
"You really don’t know what year it is?”
"No, I know what years it is," she protests. "It’s 2025. I wouldn’t forget something like that. This is-"
She glances around at the cabin – one I built with my own two hands, when I came out here myself ten years before. Not exactly the fanciest place in the world, but it’s home, and more than that, it’s freedom.
She lets out a long, stuttering breath, as though it’s all starting to hit her like a ton of bricks.
"You’re not serious, are you?” she whispers to me. "I mean, it’s not – it can’t be-"
“25?” I repeat after her, my brain still hooked on that part of things. "That’s when you think it is?”
"No, that’s when I know it is," she protests. "I was out walking in the woods, I was doing this hiking retreat to clear my head before I went back to my yoga studio, and-"
"Yoga?" I reply, eyebrow cocking a little higher.
"Come on, you must know what yoga is," she replies, a slight laugh to her voice. "I mean, it’s not as though-"
I shake my head. She falls silent. A flash of panic crosses her face.
"What are you trying to say?” she whispers to me, her breath hitching in the back of her throat like she can barely get the words out. "Is this...?"
"I don’t know what this is," I reply. "But I-"
Before I can say another word, there’s a knock at the door. I straighten up and head over to answer it. On the other side stands Boone and Cora, his wife, and he lifts his chin in greeting.
"Didn’t have much luck catchin’ rabbits today," he remarks. "Was hoping you might be able to spare us a..."
But he trails off as his gaze moves past me and towards the woman curled up on my armchair. Cora brushes past me at once, her belly swollen with her child, and drops down to her knees in front of the girl sitting in my armchair.
"Are you alright?” she asks, her voice laced with genuine concern. The girl stares at her, her lips curled downward, clearly still as confused as ever.
"I – I don’t know," the girl admits, and she looks to me. "He just told me it’s 1857. And I don’t-"
"Oh, God," Cora mutters, reaching out to take her hand. "Another one, Boone."
"Another one?” I ask, frowning.
"Another what?” the girl asks.
"What’s your name, sweetie?" Cora asks.
"Riley," the girl replies. "But I-"
"Riley, I don’t know how to tell you this, but whatever year you came from, that’s the better part of two centuries into the future now," Cora tells her softly. "The same thing happened to me. Let me guess, you were out here hiking alone, and...?”
"I fell into the river," Riley confesses, her face draining of color. "And when I came to, all my things were gone, and I was-"
"You were here," Cora finishes up for her, tightening her grip on her hand. "I know it’s hard to believe, but you’re not where you used to be. You’re not in the twenty-first century anymore. You...you travelled through time."
I stare at Cora, glancing over to Boone if he seems to be reacting to his wife’s announcement with any kind of shock – but he doesn’t. He’s clearly heard this all before. Hell, by the look on his face, he believes her, too. Riley’s eyes fill with tears, her lips parting in abject shock.
"That’s not possible," she tells Cora, shaking her head. "I can’t do- nobody can-"
"I know," Cora soothes her. "Have you eaten anything? Slept? I promise it’ll start to make some more sense tomorrow, when you wake up..."
"No, I can’t just..."
The tears begin to fall, and Cora pulls her into a tight hug, holding her close.
"It’s going to be alright," she promises her, though the words sound futile, even to my ears. Because if what she is saying is true, how the hell is this girl going to make it? She can’t just put it all behind her – or in front of her, whatever you call it. If she’s from the future...
"Come on," Boone murmurs to Cora, reaching out for her hand. "You need to give her some time to rest. You remember what it was like..."
"I know," Cora sighs, straightening up and patting Riley’s arm. "We live just along the path, okay, Riley? You need to talk, you come to me..."
But Riley can barely get a word out in response. I give Boone and Cora a rabbit I’m not going to need and send them on their way, and, when the door is shut behind them, a sudden heavy silence settles over the room.
"Is it true?” she whispers, as she looks up at me again. "That we’re...that we’re..."
But before she can get the words out, the tears start to fall again. My heart twists seeing her in such distress, it’s hard not to. I might not know a damn thing about this girl, or why she has appeared on my doorstep like this, but I am not going to close off my heart completely.
"Get some sleep," I tell her. "You heard Cora. Come on, you can have my bed..."
And, as I go to pull her to her feet, I can feel the tremble in her lithe body, as she tries to make sense of this. And the sudden shock of having a woman in my home after all this time might have me wondering just the same thing.