Page 75 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
“Willow, where are you going?”
“I…” She glances back at me but keeps moving. “I don’t know. I just need to go this way.”
“The path you came down is just across the clearing, through those trees.”
Her eyes cut over to the entrance to the animal trail where I found the scrap of fabric and her footprints, and she gasps, freezing in place.
“Willow?” I step up next to her, pulling her elbow to hold her upright as she staggers. “What is it?”
She squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head. “I…I remember the feel of the branches cutting and scratching my arms and face, the rocks under my feet…”
I wince at the pain she describes, knowing I would do anything to have prevented it.
Fury heats my blood again.
That she had to suffer this.
That she had to endure it.
That it’s all my fault…
Her eyelids flutter open, tears brimming and threatening to spill over as her gaze stays locked on that spot in the trees. “I need to go over there.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” I tighten my grip on her. “You’re exhausted.”
She finally turns her head toward me, and the hurricane swirling in her eyes leaves no room for argument. This woman is ready to barrel through me if I stand in her way. “Please, Killian.”
I was always helpless to resist Willow. It was impossible not to give her everything she ever wanted until that day when I fucked up everything.
No matter how concerned I might be for her at this moment, this is what she needs, which means pushing away my instinct to protect her from anything that might cause her more pain and allow her to find her own limits.
“Okay…”
I release her elbow and slide the pack from my shoulders, leaving it near the river where we’ll set up camp. Willow waits for me, and I pull her hand in mine and twine our fingers together.
She doesn’t question the gesture or fight it; she simply allows me to lead her across the meadow toward the treeline and the small gap in it where various species of wildlife cuts through to make their way to the river.
Her grip on my hand tightens as we approach the trees, and she pulls to a stop, turning to scan the clearing and river again. Uncertain eyes dart back and forth between the water and the trail. “I must have run across the clearing.”
I nod. “Probably. Any footprints would have been quickly washed away by the rain.”
“But how did I end up in the water?”
Exactly what we’ve all been wondering for the past couple of weeks.
Willow knows the river can be very dangerous. Aside from fishing with Connor, Liam, or me, and occasionally swimming in the natural pool at the bottom of the falls, she rarely came near it.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. The scrap of fabric from your shirt was maybe fifty yards into the trees here, and there are several footprints deeper in where the ground must have been wetter and softer from the rain to leave an impression. But as far as how you got into the water…”
She pulls her bottom lip under her teeth, and I can feel the tension growing in her. Almost as if she’s anticipating what might await on the other end of the path, even though I know there are just more questions, not answers.
I’ve been searching almost every day for weeks and haven’t found anything that can help explain where she has been or what she was doing up here.
Unless she remembers something more specific, this may remain a mystery indefinitely.
That thought has kept me awake at night as much as my concern for her and waiting for another nightmare to come.
How can she live like this forever?
