Page 2 of A Rugged Beauty
Oh.Shehad been sick.
That explained the gnawing emptiness in her stomach, the dryness in her mouth, the thirst.
But it did not explain why she couldn’t remember anything before waking up.
Her body could no longer deny the need for water, even to answer the growing questions in her mind and she took several shaky steps before she needed to lean one hand against a sapling to steady herself.
A few more steps and she emerged from the cover of the trees. She squinted in bright sunlight. Morning still, but barely.
There was the water. A wide swath of river, sparkling like diamonds as it passed over a bed of smooth, round rocks. Farther down, the water narrowed in a bend, rushing over large boulders.
Moving quickly now, the woman crossed the expanse of damp gravel, her feet twisting beneath her as the ground shifted.
She knelt at the edge of the river, uncaring that her dress got wet, that her knees chilled at the icy shock.
She cupped her hands and drank handful after handful of fresh water so cold it made her teeth ache.
Breathless but finally sated, she sat back on her haunches. Her eyes roamed in all directions.
She didn’t know what she was looking for. A house. A town. Smoke. Horses. Any sign of civilization. Any sign that she wasn’t completely alone.
There was only the expanse of blue sky, littered with clouds.
Fear slithered through her like smoke filtering through cracks in a smokeshack.
“Help!” Her voice cracked on the word, but it didn’t stop her from shouting, “Is anyone there? Help! Heeellp!”
But it was as if the wind snatched her voice. No one answered.
The water had healed her parched throat enough that the twist in her stomach felt like hunger.
Surely she wasn’t alone out here. There must be something. A house. A tent.
Her nose twitched and she turned her head, searching for the faintest hint of woodsmoke. Was she imagining it?
Heart pounding, her feet led her back the way she’d come, into the woods.
Yards away, a dark shape loomed. And jerked.
She shrieked and stopped short, pressing one hand to her chest. How had she not noticed it before? A man’s coat, somekind of slicker, hung from a branch well above her head. Another gust of the breeze set it twisting and swaying.
Someone was out here.
Were they friend or foe?
The scent of smoke was slightly stronger here, a fire long burned away. Her heart quailed as she circled around the coat, sleeves flapping in the breeze. She noticed a small campfire, only ashes and a few black lumps of charred wood. No tent. No shovel or clothesline or hammer.
She’d camped with her father when she was young. The thought was quickly followed by a sense of urgency as she tried to picture his face in her memories. No matter how hard she tried to force him to come in to focus, she couldn’t remember.
This was only a dead campfire, not a camp.
What now?
She pressed the heels of both hands to her eyes. Why couldn’t she remember? The rising panic inside her clawed its way up her throat, but she couldn’t let it out. Some instinct told her that breaking down in tears at this moment was dangerous.
She’d grown up in the city. That knowledge clicked into place with a certainty that had to be real. She could’ve navigated home from the grocers or the butcher or her friend Flora’s house.
Flora.
