9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Ena
“Ty!” Ena screamed, but it was too late. The huge log slammed into him and his horse, knocking them backwards into the water. The rush of the river covered them instantly, and she lost track of him.
Ena ran to the bank. Should she jump in after him? Her instincts were screaming at her to do something, but logically, she knew that getting herself lost in the water would be pointless.
She saw the horse’s head pop up momentarily as it struggled for air, and she tracked its movements, looking for any sign of Ty.
“Quick!” Turner yelled, digging into his horse’s pack and pulling out a rope. “Ena, run downriver!”
Ena started sprinting as fast as she could, trying fruitlessly to keep up with the river’s pace. She heard Turner running behind her and he soon surpassed her.
“Do you see him anywhere?” Ena shouted at him. Her eyes were fixed on the white caps of the river, looking for any sign of Ty’s body. How were they not seeing him? Where had he gone?
“Fuck!” Turner shouted as they rounded a bend in the river, only to see it descend into a stretch of deadly rapids.
Huge, jagged boulders dotted the river’s stream as the waves crashed into them, forcing the water to gyrate into dense eddies and holes. She watched as the giant log that had crashed into them tore downstream at breakneck speed, smashing into the rocks—bouncing off them and finally breaking apart.
Where is he, where is he, where is he.
Ena’s mind was frantic and terrified, frozen in a perpetual loop of the same repeating thought.
And then she saw him. For the briefest second, his head popped up out of the water—eyes closed, face slack—only to be sucked immediately back down.
Oh Gaia, he was unconscious. Was he breathing? Was he alive? She knew that if the water didn’t drown him, the cold of it would kill him in due time. How could they get to him?
“Turner, did you see him?!” she shouted. “I just saw him—he popped up for a second.”
“Keep running, keep going, Ena. Hopefully, the river slows after this section and we’ll catch him if he pops up again.”
“He was out cold! How can he grab the rope if he’s unconscious?” Ena cried, the panic in her voice evident to her own ears.
“Just keep going, Ena,” was all Turner said.
The two of them ran downstream, dodging the trees and plant life along the banks, her lungs nearly bursting with the effort.
Eventually, the river evened out after the rapids, smoothing into a swift, straight line, but it was deeper than it was above as the landscape narrowed.
In the distance, she saw something floating on the river’s surface—moving along. It was black and brown and—
Ty’s horse.
“The horse, the horse!” Ena yelled ahead to Turner, pointing frantically at it.
It was clearly struggling to swim, trying to make its way to shore.
Turner spotted it then and made a beeline for the spot on the bank adjacent from it.
Turner called to it, urging it to swim—as if it needed any encouragement.
The poor thing looked terrified as its eyes bugged out and it frantically paddled through the water.
As it got closer to the edge, Turner went a few feet into the river, as far as he dared, and reached out to it, pulling its dangling reins and guiding it the last few feet out of the water.
The poor horse collapsed as its legs hit the shore, immediately laying on its side as its lungs huffed, catching its breath.
Turner went to it, stroking its nose and whispering soothing words. But Ena kept her eyes on the water.
The horse was here. Ty had to be close. She’d seen him. She’d seen him. He had to be nearby. He had to. He’d find his way to the shore like the horse had.
After a few minutes, Turner stood back up and came to her side. “Any more sign of him?” he asked.
Ena just shook her head silently, not taking her eyes off the water, though she knew the river’s path had likely carried him far past them by now.
A chill went through her, and she shivered. Her clothes were still wet from the river crossing, and she vaguely noticed that it was getting dark, because it was getting harder to see the other side of the river.
“Ena,” Turner broached the silence quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. But she didn’t look at him, she couldn’t take her eyes off the water. She wouldn’t. “It’s getting dark. We need to get back to the horses. Maybe that way, we can cover more ground.”
She didn’t want to, but he had a point. Ty was likely farther downstream now, and running would only get them so far.
They could travel faster and farther with horses, so, reluctantly, she agreed, tearing her eyes from the water for the greater good.
Together, they jogged back the couple miles they’d run to where their horses were still grazing by the riverbank.
They saddled up quickly and went back the way they’d come.
The sun had set now, and the water was hard to see, but Ena didn’t care. They had to keep looking. Soon, they surpassed the place where they’d pulled out Ty’s horse—who was still resting where they’d left her—and they continued on in the dark.
Ena’s teeth began to chatter—the adrenaline leaving her body as the search turned stale, and the wetness of her clothing combined with the freezing temperatures started to catch up to her.
But she didn’t stop scanning the banks—listening for a cry of help, watching for a strange shape holding on to a stone in the water, or washed up on the bank—anything.
The silence between her and Turner began to deepen—it widened like the river as they passed bend after bend with no hope.
After another hour, Turner called to her.
“Ena.” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, as if he had to force the words out. “I think we need to stop.”
Ena whipped around in her saddle to look at him, almost shocked that he would suggest such a thing.
“W-what do you mean?” she asked, slowing her horse.
“We can’t stop looking. T-Turner, we have to find him.
He’s out there s-somewhere.” She gestured towards the cold, unforgiving river and the wilderness beyond it.
“I know, Ena, we will,” Turner said with conviction.
“But not tonight. It’s useless and dangerous to keep searching in the dark.
We need to get you and the baby warmed up.
I don’t want you getting hypothermia out here.
If Ty is…if he’s conscious now, he’ll know what to do.
He’ll make it to shore and we’ll find him tomorrow. ”
Ena wanted to turn away from him, tell him to fuck off—that she was fine and they should keep looking until they found him, no matter the cost. But then she shivered, and she felt the muscles in her abdomen tighten uncomfortably around her growing uterus.
She’d barely felt it when she was running, but her muscles ached, and her wet clothing was beginning to crust with ice.
She placed her hand instinctively to her stomach to feel the swell there—proof of the life within—and all of a sudden she wanted to weep.
Because Turner was right. She needed to take care of herself.
If not for her own sake, then for the baby’s.
She was cold and exhausted and on the brink of collapse—though she’d been denying it.
But she fucking hated it. She hated to leave this riverside and stop looking for Ty.
How could she do that? How could she just go back to their camp tonight without him?
How was he just…gone?
As if sensing her shift, Turner pulled his horse up next to hers and reached out to touch her shoulder. “We’ll find him, Ena. I swear we will.”
Ena nodded blankly at him as she continued staring at the deadly river, her heart and mind feeling as numb as her fingers.
Of course they’d find him. They had to…right?