Chapter 65
Liz lurched on, currents of thought fizzing and jolting. A dizzying—almost vertiginous—sensation overtook her, as if the ground were shifting, loosening, sliding away.
She managed to stumble onward, legs trembling. Her breath was high and shallow in her chest.
She’d come so close to pushing Joni. There had been a beat where Liz’s hands gripped her shoulders, and she’d wanted it—she’d wanted to see the moment Joni’s feet left solid ground. Her stunned surprise, the windmill of her arms, the whoosh of air as she dropped.
Somehow, Liz had lowered her hands, stepped back. But it had been there—the fierce instinct to destroy.
The two women had stared at one another. Then Liz had said simply, “We are done,” then turned and walked away.
She’d no idea how long she’d been walking—just feet pounding earth, blood pumping through her body—but now she finally ground to a stop. She planted her hands on her hips, her breath frayed.
She glanced around, turning on the spot. The damp breath of mist had thickened into fog. It made the world feel dreamlike and surreal, blurring the edges of the landscape, clouding the view. Visibility was down to only a few meters. She rubbed her brow, trying to get her bearings.
She searched for a red trail marker—but there were none. Had she come off the trail? She’d stormed away from Joni, not even thinking about the direction she was going in, and now the path had been swallowed.
Liz turned again, sweeping her gaze across the landscape. No sign of the cabin. All she could see was rock and boulder and earth and fog.
Her heart rate sped into a new, more urgent rhythm.
She stood very still, letting the situation digest. She had no phone, no food, no water—and had told no one where she was. Sit tight, she told herself, trying to quell the panic. Let the weather pass. Then the landscape would be revealed once again.
She lowered herself onto a boulder—then stood again, too agitated to be still. As she did, Liz thought she heard something.
Footsteps?
She listened closely.
Could hear the rhythmic tread of boots against earth.
“Hello!” she called instinctively into the fog.
The footsteps stopped.
“Hello?” she said again, tentative this time.
Then ahead of her, she could see the shape of someone emerging through the fog. As they approached, she recognized the gait, the shoulders, the thick legs pushed into boots. She lifted her hand, waved.