Chapter Twelve #2
“One day at a time,” I murmured to myself, repeating the refrain I’d spoken for nearly all fifty years since I’d landed in this strange world. “I’ll survive this one day at a time.”
* * *
Eve
I dumped the filthy water onto the cold ground and took that moment to stretch.
I’d decided to wash the outside portion of the oriel today.
It was getting clean enough to see what the whole image was—or rather, each panel.
The lower shapes were green and blue, so I guessed it was a pastoral scene.
Brown seemed to make up most of the middle two panels, so perhaps a building.
The sun burst from the clouds, warming my face. I tilted my face upward and sighed in relief. The clouds and wind were relentless now it was late December. Any beam of sunshine was to be treasured.
Gabriel had swooped and soared around Mirkwold most of the morning. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was like one of my grandmother’s cats—creatures who wanted to be near you, but didn’t want to admit it, and so therefore sat on the other side of the room.
Surely he wasn’t like that, though. He was a seraph. A mighty being with abilities I didn’t understand.
But he was gone now. We’d spoken briefly, over my small lunch, about when he wanted his friends—sedge, he still called them—to gather together again.
It sounded like it had been over a decade since they’d all been in one place.
Or—as much as they could be. I could see the grief in Gabriel’s eyes whenever he talked about his second in command who’d vanished while trying to cross the ocean.
I didn’t ask more questions because it was clearly a painful topic, but I didn’t understand how a seraph could perish like that.
They could fly for hours upon hours before growing tired, and surely Daniel had been smart enough to plot out a course with islands to rest. If there was a storm, he could’ve flown above the clouds.
The only thing I could think of was perhaps he’d been shot down by someone who thought he was a strange bird of prey.
The clouds rolled across the sky, and the scent of loam and soil reached me.
I was tired, and I’d had dreams of Zorababel catching me last night. It made me restless and uneasy, even in the light of day.
I’d leave when the oriel was clean, and it was growing cleaner by the day.
My little pile of preserves grew piece by piece.
My stomach was in knots as I imagined freedom might be in my grasp, but my heart ached at leaving Gabriel and Mirkwold behind.
When I tossed and turned, I tried to think of how to draft my farewell letter without making it illegible with my tears.
Gabriel had mentioned a beautiful overlook, and I needed to do something.
I wiped my hands on my apron and began walking the direction he had pointed the other day.
It was a pleasant walk, and I was grateful to use my legs instead of my arms. I stumbled into a rut at one point, where the heather had grown over the path.
“Whoops,” I muttered under my breath, flailing until I righted myself.
My ankle twinged, but I kept walking. The slope had appeared gentle from the bottom, but now it was punishing. I had to wind around boulders, down into crags, and then higher and higher still. Good grief, was this a mountain?
I finally reached the top after nearly half an hour of walking and panting. The trail behind me was trampled heather, no true path to be seen.
Well, I’d gone this far. I would enjoy it.
I turned and faced the overlook. A broad expanse of brown greeted me, a patchwork of different shades.
The tufts of heather still had a purplish hue even in winter, and the rest of the high grass ranged between yellowish brown and greenish brown.
Far in the distance I spotted a few scraggly trees.
The dips and cracks in the rocks astounded me.
Below lay sharp rocks, jutting up like the teeth of an ancient monster.
I’d lived my whole life in the gentle southern climes of Anglia, just outside the city.
This was a wilderness I didn’t understand.
It looked so peaceful, so…traversable from a distance.
Little different than meadows. But now I’d walked a piece of it, I knew better.
The long grass hid a multitude of treacherous dips.
Ahead to my left was a taller hill, one far more rocky than the first. I turned and strode toward it, pausing at the base to look up and plan my path.
Shrubbery and scrub dotted the hill, marking what I thought was probably solid ground.
Further along the hill were strange rock formations, croppings taller than me that weaved back and forth, creating a maze-like path. I climbed.
The top was worth the view. Harsh, stark, beautiful, desolate—it reminded me of Gabriel, of the man I was afraid I was falling in love with.
I can’t fall in love. Not with him. There’s no future. But my heart still yearned. Maybe if I stayed up here all night long I’d come to my senses.
Large, tall clouds drifted across the sky, heralding an upcoming storm. I squinted, trying to gauge how much time I had before they burst. Usually the rain in this region was gentle, and while it was never pleasant to be utterly soaked and walking through mud, it was tolerable.
I should return. I didn’t want to, not yet. I didn’t know how to pretend to be a meek and submissive housekeeper much longer. I needed my freedom, from both the Church of the Love of His Divine Saints and also the frightening passion in my heart.
I’d never been kissed before this, besides Zorababel.
I’d thought about it, late at night when my hands slipped downward to comfort a throbbing between my thighs.
I’d whispered about it with a friend. Something so forbidden must be wonderful, we reasoned.
But then I’d grown disillusioned when I saw how the other women’s little smiles and blushes disappeared after courtship became marriage, then how they grew tired and immediately fat with child.
Gabriel made all those girlish fantasies return. He kissed even better than my adolescent dreams could imagine, and I wanted him more than I wanted air in my lungs.
My palm stung, and I glanced down in surprise to see I’d gripped the key so tightly my knuckles had whitened. I swallowed hard.
“One day,” I recited, “I will find a home and make it a place of joy and love. And when I find it, I’ll put the key in a box.
” My friend Silence had encouraged me to say this to myself when hope abandoned me.
“And years from now, I’ll open the box, see the key, and remember how hard I fought and how far I’ve come. ”
The words drifted across the moor, dissolving into the mist.
Sighing, I turned and plodded downhill.
My foot slipped on a slick patch of grass, and I fell, landing hard on my backside. Sharp grass and pebbles dug into my palms. I cried out in surprise and pain. After a few heartbeats, I pushed myself up. My ankle twinged again, but I could ignore it.
The clouds rolled over me.
I tried to make my way down the hill carefully, but it grew darker and darker, and I could hardly tell which way was safest.
“Damn,” I told the grass whipping around my legs.
Goosebumps formed on my skin, even under my wool sleeves. I shivered and rubbed my arms to keep calm, but the movement shot me off balance again. This time I landed hard on a sharp, pointed stone.
With a cry, I fell, twisting my leg with it. I landed in a heap, pain throbbing through my entire limb.
I hissed, trying to breathe through the stabbing sensation. It took me several tries to get up. I couldn’t put much weight on my hurt foot, and there was only grass to pull against as a counterbalance.
Just as I finally made it upright again, the heavens opened and rain poured. I shivered, immediately drenched.
I have to make it back. If I waited for the rain to stop, I’d probably catch a sickness and die. I’d also delay my return until full dark, which would be dangerous. Fear made my heart flutter.
Miserable, I shuffled forward, grimacing in pain as I went. I couldn’t afford another fall. If I injured myself further, I’d be stuck out here. No one would know where to find me.