Page 10 of Avelina

“Where are we, Rogue?” I asked. He made his little dog groaning sound, then licked my neck. I squeezed him, grateful for his warmth. “I missed you, too, buddy,” I whispered. I was uncomfortable, but for the first time since my accident, my heart didn’t ache.

After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted fully to the dark and I noticed, with shock, where the dim light came from. It wasn’t moonlight. It was me. The arm I’d placed over Rogue glowed faintly with the same light that I had seen in the . . . whatever it was.

A portal.

“Maybe I’m in the nether,” I mumbled, laughing weakly to myself. “I better get some glowstone while I’m down here.” I was glad no one was around to witness my pathetic attempt at Minecraft humor.

I looked at my arm again. The glow was fading, taking my vision with it. I closed my eyes again, thinking I would just rest for a few minutes.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, but when I opened my eyes, the rain had stopped. The first hint of sunlight cast a faintly golden glow over an expanse of meadow and forest. The air smelled of pine and damp earth and was saturated with the moisture of last night’s rain.

Rogue was gone.

I lifted my head and, though still weak, it was more like weakness after a long run. I stood up and was only a little dizzy. The straps to the splint were loose, and I yanked it off with little effort. I found my pack, which had landed nearby on the ground, and picked it up with my right hand to test it out. There was no pain.

Okay, just a bit of S&M and I’m all fixed up, I guess.

I unzipped the bag and stuffed the splint in there, then peered down at myself. My clothes were muddy but intact. I didn’t know how it hadn’t all been burned away. My hat was gone, which meant I had some auburn highlights to look forward to, but at least I wasn’t stark naked. I also noted, with relief, that I was no longer glowing.

I turned in a circle to survey my surroundings. To my right, a sheer cliff face shot up into the sky, hanging over me just enough to block the worst of the rain. Otherwise, I was surrounded by shoulder-high grass, topped by feathery seeds. The spot where I had been lying left a perfectly circular patch of muddy grass that was sheared down to the ground, bits strewn everywhere.

Did I really sleep in the mud all night? I really need to quit drinking.

It was foggy, but I could see a grove of redwoods across a small meadow. Wildflowers, somehow delicate and also larger than I had ever seen, poked their heads above the tall grass here and there in a vibrant eruption of yellow and purple.

A large, flat stone leaned against the cliff face. It had an X carved into it, similar to the one I knew, but standing upright.

X marks the spot.

I stared at it for a moment, thinking that I had better remember where this place was. Then I backed away from the stone to see a mountain rising behind it. My heart skipped a beat, and I nearly stumbled backward. This snow-capped mountain was enormous. My parents’ stables were in the foothills of Klamath, nowhere near a peak like this one. I squinted at it and rubbed my eyes.

Yep, still there. Where the hell am I?

I searched for my phone but didn’t see it anywhere. I patted my bra. Nope. I searched in the tall grass around the circle, finding nothing, then gave up. At least I had my watch.

I heard barking and glanced up to see Rogue trotting toward me on a footpath through the redwoods, followed by a man in strange clothing. I felt a brief moment of relief at seeing Rogue and possibly even getting help from someone who might know where the hell I was, but my hopes were dashed when I saw him scowling in my direction as if he envisioned imminent violence. My heart rate spiked. Even worse, despite his expression of wrath, he was still uncomfortably handsome, which always makes me uneasy. Especially when I look like an avalanche victim.

As always, when coming across an unknown man with no one around to help me, I performed a quick rape threat assessment, or RTA, as Marti used to call it. This man seemed to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. He appeared healthy and clean, like he took good care of himself. That was a good sign. He wore his dark brown hair tied at the nape of his neck, and his beard was trimmed and well-kept. His clothing was super weird, though. A dark brown tunic hung to his knees and was belted with what looked like red snakeskin, paired with knee-high boots of the same material. On second thought, perhaps my muddy, disheveled appearance was in my best interest.

Rogue obviously knew him and trusted him. That was a very good sign. As he got closer to me, though, I noticed how massive he was, at least a foot taller than me and twice as wide. He reminded me of a bear. That wasn’t good or bad by itself, but could be very, very bad if combined with a bad RTA.

I decided to trust Rogue’s judgment. The man had already seen me, despite the tall grass. I could have run away, I suppose. I was pretty fast, and I could run for hours. Then I remembered that I had bear spray tied with a quick-release strap on the outside of my pack.

“Trust, but verify,” I whispered to myself. I found the canister and yanked it loose. The little orange safety clip was still intact. I decided to risk it and left it that way. The pair came out of the redwoods, wading into the grass. Rogue must have sped up when he saw me because a swish of grass blades outpaced Bear Guy.

“Rogue!” the man shouted in a deep voice. “Get back here!” He had the same strange accent Psycho Snow White had, like he was North American but from some region I had never visited.

The man held some kind of metal weapon. It looked a bit like a crossbow but much smaller and narrower. He lifted it up to point at my head. Suddenly, my bear spray seemed rather naive and stupid.

Rogue ignored him, jumping up and almost knocking me over. He planted both front paws on my shoulders and licked my face. He also blocked any shot that Bear Guy might have had since, standing on his hind legs, he was as tall as I was. Bear Guy knew Rogue somehow, so he wouldn’t shoot through him to get to me, or so I nervously hoped.

I was glad to see that Rogue had not run away again, and I smiled despite my possibly desperate situation. I felt weird about it, though. Obviously, my Rogue had not only been my Rogue. His name fit him better than I had ever understood. I hugged him anyway as I tried to remember where we’d gotten his name from.

Bear Guy closed the distance between us, scrutinizing our little reunion. Now that he was closer, I could see that his eyes were an extraordinary shade of ice blue that contrasted sharply with his bronze skin and dark brown hair. He was even more attractive up close but exuded a menacing energy that beamed out of his hard eyes.

“Rogue!” he called again.

“Excuse me?” I said. “This is my dog. See this collar?” It came out a little angrier than I meant it to, but his sharp attention and overpowering presence had me flustered. I pointed to the metal tag. “I’m the one who had this made for him,” I said. “It’s literally got my name on the other side.” The man’s eyes widened, bringing my attention back to their unusual color. They were magnificent. I barreled on. “I named him. He’s my dog, and I will hug him when and where I want to.”

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