Page 33 of Silver Linings

“They might be Celtic,” he said, and Sidney frowned.

“We’re in northern California, not ancient Wales.”

“I know,” he replied, and did his best to suppress a smile. Actually, he was a little surprised she knew even that much about the Celts, since it didn’t seem as if she’d included much study of ancient civilizations during her time in college. No big surprise, considering how she’d intended to earn a DVM degree. “And this isn’t my field of expertise, so I can’t begin to say what these symbols even mean. I suppose the best thing to do is to take some photos of them and then upload the images to Google to see if we can cross-reference them that way.”

“That’s a good idea,” she agreed, then moved closer to the tree even as he was beginning to pull out his phone again.

But her foot must have caught on a root or maybe a stone hidden in the lush grass, because she tripped before he could even react, falling to the ground with her hands outflung to catch her weight.

“Are you okay?” he asked at once, hurriedly shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Fine,” she said, although he noticed the way she gritted her teeth as she uttered that single syllable…and the way she winced as she climbed back to her feet.

Blood trickled down from the palm of one hand. “You’re hurt!” he exclaimed, and she made an annoyed sound.

“I guess I am,” she said, looking down at her bloody palm with almost clinical disinterest. “I suppose I should be glad it was my hand that got it and not my knees. That would have made walking back to the trailhead a lot more difficult.”

He supposed she was right about that. Still, even though she sounded dismissive about the whole thing, he knew they couldn’t leave her wound untreated.

“I have a first aid kit in my pack,” he told her. “Hang on a sec.”

She shook her head, expression still one of mostly irritation. “I have one, too. It’s fine.”

But he’d already gone ahead and slung his pack off his shoulders, and immediately pulled out the kit he carried with him at all times. It wasn’t too elaborate, just some Band-Aids and alcohol wipes and a bundle of gauze, but he hoped it would be enough to get her cleaned up and the wound on her hand covered so there wasn’t any danger of her reinfecting the gash she’d just received.

Probably from an exposed tree root, he thought. If she’d fallen on a rock, the damage would have been a lot more severe.

“Let me take a look at that,” he said.

For just a moment, she hesitated, as if she was trying to decide whether protesting further would do her any good. But then she gave an audible sigh and extended her hand.

“It’s really not a big deal.”

He didn’t respond, and instead only came over and wiped down the wound with one of the alcohol pads he’d taken out of his first aid kit. The gash didn’t look very deep, but it was ragged and kept wanting to bleed.

In a way, that was a good thing, just because it would help to get the cut cleaned out.

Her hand was warm against his skin, so he doubted there was any risk of her going into shock. It was a pretty hand, long and slender, with graceful fingers. No polish or rings, which didn’t surprise him very much. He had a feeling it would take a while to truly know Sidney Lowell, but he could already tell she didn’t have much time for jewelry or manicures.

Was that a shudder he sensed as he went over the wound again with yet another alcohol wipe? Maybe. It wasn’t too odd, he thought, just because that gash looked like it hurt plenty, and she was probably having a hard time holding herself still while he worked.

Or maybe there was an entirely different reason why that tremor had gone through her as he continued to hold her hand.

Well, he could speculate about that later. For now, he knew he needed to focus on getting the wound properly bandaged and then putting the used-up alcohol wipes and the Band-Aid wrapper in the little bag he brought along on hikes so he wouldn’t have to worry about disposing of trash while he was on the trail.

“Better?” he asked once he was done, and she nodded.

“Yes.” A pause, and she added, “Thank you. I suppose I’m just kicking myself for being so clumsy.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said immediately. “You were looking at the symbols on the tree, not at your feet.”

“Exactly,” she returned, mouth quirking up at one corner.

All right, he supposed she had a point there. Before he could respond to her remark, however, she spoke again.

“Speaking of which, you should go ahead and take those photos now. It’ll be interesting to see what Google thinks of them.”

That was for sure. Again, he got his phone out of his pocket and took a series of photos, first far enough away that you could see all the symbols at once, and then as close up as his phone could manage, doing his best to make sure the images were clear and sharp enough that the artificial intelligences at Google wouldn’t have any trouble analyzing them.

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