Chapter 4
Chapter Four
I’ve never really been a dreamer before. Sure, I’ve had dreams, but never so vivid.
Finnick leads the way, navigating the terrain like he’s the one who placed every stone, log, and ankle-twisting hole on the ground himself.
I, on the other hand, am not as confident.
I’m an indoor soul. I love painting, drawing, and throwing clay; I am not outdoorsy. Nature, for the most part, is my enemy.
Bouncing from foster home to foster home was whiplash. Some parents wanted me outside from sunup to sundown, and some kept me in my room. Art was something I could do anywhere, and I relished that. No matter where I went, I would at least have access to a pencil, pen, or marker.
My lack of outdoorsmanship is evident when the toe of my boot snags on a tree root.
My arms fly out in front of me as I try to regain my balance.
The only thing that keeps me from becoming one with the forest floor is Finnick.
His tall frame is in front of me in an instant, his large hands grasping my biceps, eyes wide.
“Are you okay, Echo?”
I nod. My heart is racing, but I am okay. I want to ask him why he keeps calling me Echo, but each time I start, I change my mind. It feels natural and calming, so I’m not upset about it. I’m just curious.
“We are almost there,” he tells me, his assessing eyes running over me to make sure I am telling the truth. Eyes the same icy blue that I’ve spent months mixing on my palette again and again.
“Where, exactly?” I realize now that I’ve asked no questions, gathered any clues, or done a single thing that would count as a survival instinct.
I made eye contact with this man, and everything sensible went out the door.
With as many true crime podcasts as I listen to, I am ashamed of myself. Do better, Claudia.
“Here,” he states, as if that’s any answer at all.
He steps into a patch of moonlight in front of us.
It was as if the second he decided this is where we needed to be, the trees opened a path for him.
He takes my hand and gently pulls me forward into the clearing.
A massive horse is waiting there, and it stomps the ground once, impatiently.
Finnick huffs out a laugh and moves towards the creature, talking to it as if it had been nagging him, and he was explaining where he had been.
I watch him as he pats the horse lovingly on the muzzle.
“We’re going, boy, we’re going,” he soothes. “We just have to get Claudia settled.”
The horse snorts, a cloud of steam coming from its nostrils as it stares at me like it’s sizing me up, seeing if I’m worth the trouble. He must give me grace, because after a moment, he paws at the ground. Finnick looks at me and offers his hand. “Come, Claudia,” he insists softly.
I take his hand, and he guides me to the horse.
“I’ll help you up,” he tells me, turning me towards him when I am close enough to be able to get on.
He puts his hand on my waist, and I’m frozen.
His palms are firm, steady, and I can feel his warmth through whatever excuse of a dress I’m wearing.
He takes a slow step closer to me, moving like he doesn’t want to startle me.
His gaze roams my face before he meets my eyes again. “You’re real,” he breathes.
“That’s debatable,” I respond, my voice barely louder than a whisper. I feel my cheeks heating. “Dream logic.” I can’t take my eyes off him. I want to soak this in for as long as I can.
“You’re looking at me like I’m going to bite you,” he teases, reaching up to tuck a stray curl that’s escaped from my hair tie behind my ear.
“Maybe I’m hoping you will,” I respond quickly, not even realizing what I was saying before it came out. Finnick lets out a genuine chuckle, and his palm moves to cup my cheek briefly before moving back to my waist. His face is inches from mine. I can feel his breath against my lips.
His eyes dip to my mouth, lingering, and my knees don’t seem so sturdy anymore. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
“How?” He breathes. He leans in just a fraction.
Enough that I can feel the promise of it, ready for it to devastate me.
His nose brushes against mine, and his fingers flex at my waist, gripping me.
I didn’t notice that I’ve also leaned in, but now there’s barely space for a breath to come between us. His lips part, and mine do the same.
“If you mean I’m looking at you like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you,” he starts, speaking lowly, the sound coming from him like a growl. “It’s because I have been.”
A soft whimper escapes me, and his lips are grazing mine, so close…
“And you’ll have to continue waiting,” a sharp voice snaps from behind him.
Finnick jerks away from me like someone has splashed cold water onto him, his jaw tenses, and his eyes snap back into focus.
His softness is gone, replaced with good posture and even better manners.
Veyra is back, and she looks pissed. “The fae archers are closing in. You need to take the fated and move.” She turns her back to us and motions to something behind her.
What seemed like only a few men quickly turns to many as they slink through the trees, all heading the way Veyra had silently commanded them.
My jaw drops as I look between her and Finnick, confused.
Everything feels so charged now, so urgent, and my heart is starting to pound.
Is this turning into a nightmare instead?
“Now,” she commands.
I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can two times. It’s usually the only way I can wake myself up, but it’s not working. I’m stuck in my dream. When I open my eyes after the second squeeze, Veyra and what I assume are her soldiers are gone. Finnick faces me, his brows furrowed.
“We need to go, Echo,” he insists. “I’m going to lift you up now.”
I nod, my heart rate not slowing down. When he boosts me up, I throw my leg over the horse’s back, holding onto his neck tightly until I can get adjusted. I’ve seen how people wrestle alligators, and that’s the exact way I’m choosing to hold on to this horse.
I’ve ridden approximately once, and it was when some mayor or senator or whatever the fuck needed a good photo op, so he took the ‘orphan kids’ to the fair.
His words, not mine. There was a petting zoo with a pony ride there, and his assistant handed the attendant a wad of money so we could all go around once.
He got votes that year, and we got to try out someone pretending to give a shit about us.
We all knew the group home didn’t. So, looking at it that way, I wouldn’t even count it as a horse ride.
Finnick, however, is clearly well-versed in this. He effortlessly swings himself onto the steed in one fluid motion, settling into place with me between his thighs. He wraps one of his arms around my waist protectively and grabs the reins firmly in his other hand. “Hold on, Echo,” he directs.
“I am holding on!” My response is muffled because my face is squished firmly into the horse’s neck. Finnick groans and pulls me up, pressing my back against his chest firmly.
“Over here!”
I quickly look over my shoulder when an unfamiliar voice calls from the trees. “They’re over here! The fated is here!” More voices join, getting closer.
“Who are they talking about?” I ask Finnick, panicked. Veyra mentioned the fated, and now the mysterious voice in the woods has too. “Who is the fated?”
Before I finish the question, he has dug his heels into the horse, and we are surging forward, the sudden speed stealing the air from my lungs.
Trees blur by as I turn my head, trying to see past Finnick.
He tightens his arm around my waist. “Turn around, Echo. You can worry about them when I get you home.”
I listen to him. I face the correct way, and while the thoughts of the people chasing us should stay at the front of my mind, all I can focus on is how, with every jolt of the horse’s pace, I feel him against me.
His warmth. His palm splayed across my lower stomach.
The shape of him pressed against the contours of my back.
Once we are quite far ahead, the sounds of the others muted, we slow down.
Our pace is still steady, just more accommodating.
My thighs are sore, and more than that, there’s pain between my legs.
There’s no saddle. I never considered the pain of riding a horse bareback.
I feel Finnick’s breath against the shell of my ear.
“Comfortable, Claudia?” His voice vibrates in my ear and sends jolts through my body, directly to my clit.
My subconscious is showing off now, making dreams feel so life-like.
At least it gives me a brief reprieve from the pain I’m in.
“On the horse? No. With you? Also no. Yes? I don’t know,” I sigh. I’m being honest. “I’m probably dead, and this is my afterlife.”
Finnick laughs, and the sound does the same thing his low voice had just done. Direct highway to my clit. No tolls necessary. “If this is death, then you met it gently.”
I try to adjust myself, but end up pressing closer against him. “See?” I ask. “No real guy talks like that.” I close my eyes and lean my head back, soaking in the feeling of being against him while I can.
“I can assure you, Claudia,” he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear.
“I am very real.” The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine.
I open my eyes to challenge him, to dare him to prove it, but when I do, I see it.
The forest has thinned, and an open field is in front of us.
In the distance, a stone wall separates a city from the field.
Beyond that, on a hill, is a beautiful structure made of tiered terraces carved from grey stone, and veins of pale silver wind through the walls like a root system.
When I think of castles, I think of massive, formidable fortresses with spikes around the tops of the walls to impale their enemies on. I don’t think of castles like this one: no perfect straight lines, everything seems to curve naturally, softly.
Finnick takes us around the field’s outskirts and back into the dense woods.
I hear the babble of water getting louder the further we go in.
Eventually, we emerge near a river gorge.
Water rushes from high above us, muffling the sound of anything outside of our little spot.
I take a deep breath and inhale the scent around me—earth, water, and moss- just like the expensive candles they use in spas.
Finnick dismounts and holds his arms out for me.
I turn towards him and slide down into his arms, my gown riding up on the way.
His eyes linger on my white panties briefly before he clears his throat, sets me down, and gives me a minute to adjust my clothing.
He takes my hand and guides me over fallen logs slick with moss and stones that have crumbled from the cliffs and landed here.
We reach a cluster of massive rocks covered in vines, with tiny rivers of water streaming along their jagged edges.
He smiles at me slyly, still keeping my hand in his, and runs his other hand along one of the cracks in the boulder.
And the fucking vines move away.
I feel a vibration in my chest similar to the way your throat feels when you hum, and I’m torn between wonder and terror.
Two people come through the new opening: a man and a woman, about the same height as us.
They bow lowly to Finnick, and he acknowledges them with a slight head nod.
“Go west,” he tells them. “They were trailing us there; they’ll expect us to go to the sewers to escape. ”
“Yes, your Highness,” they respond in unison and bow quickly before skittering off towards our horse. When they are out of our eyesight, Finnick uses his arm to motion to the opening. “After you,” he states confidently.
“Oh, no, sir. This…is a murder hole.” I blink at him as though he has lost his mind, even though I did just witness people coming out of it. “You’re trying to stuff me into a murder hole in a rock. This is exactly where a dream version of me would die.”
I’m met with a smirk.
“Claudia, if I meant to end your life, it would be in a place far more beautiful, where our bones would give into nature quietly.”
That’s it. I’m a goner. When I wake up from this, I know I am actually going to mourn the loss of this perfect man I’ve created in my mind.
“That’s beautiful, and also really fucking creepy, Finnick. We need to work on your delivery.”
And because I know I would follow this man into a pit of molten hot lava and be okay with whatever outcome I was handed, I step into the murder hole between the rocks.