Page 4 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
My rattling breaths rip through my lungs on fiery inhales as I cough and run through the dense foliage, branches and leaves reaching out to scrape my bare legs.
There’s a kynior behind me, quickly catching up. I sense others on my left and right. They’re herding me, cornering me. I can smell the two closest to me closing in, like dirty, wet dog and rancid meat.
My ankle catches on a fallen limb, and I yelp as I go sprawling to the ground. Dread wells as reality sets in that this is it, whatever freedom I felt is over. I will die now, knowing nothing about who I am. I’m lying in the dirt, eyes closed, struggling to gulp down scraping breaths—reluctantly accepting my Fate—when suddenly, there’s a male voice snarling at me.
“Get up!”
He grabs the neck of my sad shift and yanks me up, the fabric chafing my itching skin.
I turn to him, wild eyed, shocked to see another person. Either he is well practiced in stealth or I’d been too blinded by my fear to be aware of my surroundings. He puts a finger to his lips, motioning for me to be quiet. Before I can process what’s happening, he grabs my hand, and we disappear into nothing.
It’s black and silent. The silence is strangely both draining and pressing, making my eardrums shriek and protest. I try to draw in breath, but I can’t. Just as new panic begins to set in, my eyes open, and I’m back in the woods, gulping down air. But we are not where we were just a moment ago. There is now a curving stream right in front of us that wasn’t there before, its clear waters glittering in the sun.
The stranger motions for silence again. He holds out his hand to me, this time warning me what’s about to happen. I take his hand and we jump into smothering silence and darkness.
My eyes dart around. We are now standing in a small clearing in the same forest. The sounds of the kyniors are much fainter. The man holds his hand out to me again, nodding silently. When my hand connects with his calloused palm, he wraps an arm around my waist before we disappear into the void.
When I open my eyes, I understand why he held me tighter, and I let out a startled cry.
We’re sitting on a thick tree branch, rough bark digging into my thighs, at least fifty feet in the air.
He pulls me into his chest and then whispers in my ear, “Careful, if you scream or fall off this tree, all that work will have been for nothing.”
Turning to him, I fully take him in. He has black hair, shoulder length. High, proud cheekbones, and a creamy brown skin tone. Eyes a breathtaking depth of darkest brown. A full mouth surrounded by a dark beard.
Strikingly handsome.
“You’re staring,” he whispers. I turn away quickly, red creeping up my neck.
We sit in silence for a long time as I relent to the bone-deep discomfort from the littaweeds and scratch my arms and chest. My rescuer lets out a noise of frustration when I give in to the itch. But to me, it’s a surprisingly welcome distraction from the sticky blanket of confusion still trying to suffocate my thoughts.
Hours go by.
The light of the horizon swirls to a dusty pink. The sky gradually grows darker, and the view of our two moons becomes more defined. The larger of the two is a bright white and its smaller brother beside it emits a green luminescence; not as brilliant, but more beautifulin its muted way.
Only after the sun fully sets, and we hear no sounds from the kyniors, does the stranger speak again.
“We will stay here tonight. You sleep first. I won’t let you fall.”
“Who—?” I begin.
He cuts me off with a curt, “Tomorrow. For now, rest.”
There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep. A wave of vertigo hits as I make the mistake of glancing down. My breath catches.
The mysterious stranger lets out a long exhale, sounding irritated. “I told you I won’t let you fall. At least try to rest. And do not look down again. If you keep trying to delve into panic over every last thing, we will never make it.”
Definitely irritated.
I say through clenched teeth, “I didn’t ask for your rescue.”
“And yet, here we are. Rest. I won’t say it again.”
Opening my mouth to spew back a smart retort, he gives me a pointed stare—so intense that I instantly shut my mouth.
His arms around me become incredibly apparent as he pulls me back into him. Attempting to take my mind off the warmth of him against me, I focus on the stiffness creeping in from sitting awkwardly on this branch for hours. Exhaustion comes over me, and I lean back into him, succumbing to my weariness. I don’t know this person, but I somehow wholeheartedly believe he won’t let me fall.
Closing my eyes, I try to make sense of everything that has happened, the effort making my mind feel thoroughly spent.
