Page 27 of A Rugged Beauty
Was that H?
"No!" The rolling thunder stole her voice again.
And then a sound.Pow!Different than the thunder, sharper somehow.
A man's cry.
"H!"
H had left Sparrow behind that rocky outcropping and made his way silently through the woods and around behind the campsite—or what he thought was a campsite. He’d seen a glimpse of a small campfire, a bedroll. A bundle that might’ve been clothes or supplies. With each step, smoke had grown thicker and thicker until it had enveloped him, blocking his view.
The trees thinned out on this bluff so he crouched behind what little cover he'd found in a large rock shaped like a goose egg.
Growing light on the horizon drew his attention from the campsite and his stomach twisted.
The smoke and glow could only mean one thing. Wildfire.
He looked up to the sky. The boiling clouds promised rain, but none fell. Not yet.
His legs twitched with the urge to run back to Sparrow.Run!
But a noise stopped him. He strained his ears. Was that the blow of a horse? The sound was distant. Was someone on the approach?
Friend or foe?
Lightning flashed and for a moment, a haze of white blurred H's vision.
Just as his sight began to clear, a darker blur emerged from the smoke and struck out.
He ducked to the side, but he moved a second too slow. That moment of surprise meant he took the blow on his shoulder. When he would've pushed up and faced his attacker head-on, the man's—it had to be a man, tall and broad—foot came out and swept H's feet out from under him.
He sprawled in the dry undergrowth and rolled away just in time to feel a kick that'd missed its target by a hairsbreadth.
"Who are you?" H demanded as he jumped to his feet.
Lightning split the sky again, revealing a craggy face. Dark pits where the man's eyes should be.
A ghost.
Or was the blowing smoke obscuring H’s vision? Ghosts didn’t exist, couldn’t have knocked him down.
Dark again, thunder so deep it made it feel as if the ground was rolling beneath H's feet. He coughed, the sound jarring.
The man hadn't moved toward H. He was there, a shadow in the darkness. Listening? Why didn't he answer?
"My—I'm lost out here," he said urgently, stifling the urge to cough again. He'd almost mentioned his wife—Sparrow.
Something inside him had choked back the words before they emerged. If this person wasn't a friend, he didn't want him to know about Sparrow.
"Are you a scout?" H demanded, the man's silence threatening.
Another lightning strike illuminated the moment when the man turned—away.
No.
If the man was out here on horseback, he might've sighted a wagon train. Or fort. Somewhere H could find help. He threw himself at the retreating man, only for the man to whirl at the last minute and send a blow into H's midsection.
The unexpected pain brought tears to his eyes and stole his breath, the smoke making him gag. H gripped onto the man's coat, fingers sliding on leather. This wasn't a ghost. It was a flesh and blood man. Was the roaring crackle of the fire closer?
