Page 48 of Creed
That first day in the cave, while our wet clothes dried in a patch of sunlight near the fire, I pulled out Lisianthus’s journal. Without paper or pen to write with, translating the code was more difficult, but not impossible. It was slow going, but word by word, I managed to piece together what the next few pages said.
Lisianthus Milford—I would not call her Grieve since that wasn’t the name she had chosen—had meticulously planned out their escape route long before they left the cult and she’d written allof it down, explaining in detail where their plans worked, and where the natural landscape caused them to deviate.
It was coming in handy now. Although not as good as an actual map, it was the next best thing, and I was able to come up with a general plan for our route through the woods.
“Still focused on that journal?” Kayden asked when he sat down next to me. He’d been helping to take care of the kids, making sure they ate.
A pair of soft snores from the back of the next cave we’d taken shelter in told me that they were asleep, kept warm by the fire and the majority of our blankets and dry clothing.
Even as Kayden settled in next to me, the heat of his body chasing away the coolness of the stone I was leaning against. I didn’t dare look at him directly. Most of his clothing was again drying by the fire, leaving him in just a pair of boxers.
A cave in the middle of the wilderness, taking shelter with two children, was no place for me to be getting excited, but I couldn’t help my body’s reaction to the sight of him.
Just to be safe, I kept my eyes firmly glued on the words and rough maps that I’d scratched into the dirt.
“If my remembered map is correct, and the information in Lisianthus’s journal is mostly accurate, then we should be able to reach a town, Whimborne, in about two days.”
Kayden studied what I’d drawn out in the dirt, careful not to touch anything.
“So, you know where we are?”
I nodded. “Yes. Since the Milford sisters managed to travel there on foot, I knew it was doable, but there was never an accurate account of how long it took them. Luckily, we aren’t as far from Emberwood as I feared.”
“So, we get to Whimborne. Then what?”
“Then we find the nearest phone and call for help. Magnus and Brody could probably drive out to us in a few hours.”
“Call your friends?” Kayden gave me a strange look. “Is that really what we should do first? What about the police? We were kidnapped. That’s... highly illegal. Surely, contacting the police should be our first priority.”
Before he’d even finished speaking, I was already shaking my head. Despite being a world traveler, it was easy to forget how innocent Kayden actually was.
“In small towns out in rural areas like this, everyone knows everyone. There’re probably at least a few members of the Tamed Souls on the local police force. No. It’s too much of a risk. If we call Brody and Magnus, then at least we know help is on the way. They can decide how much law enforcement needs to be involved.”
Hunkering down more next to me, Kayden wrapped himself tighter in the one blanket he’d kept for himself. It seemed to be a child’s blanket, and barely fit around him as he laid his head on my shoulder.
“You know more about this stuff, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”
I ran a hand through his hair, already feeling his muscles relaxing as he began drifting off to sleep.
“Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll get us through this.”
Kayden mumbled something that was probably meant to be an agreement, but he drifted off mid-sentence, and his words turned in a subtle snoring.
Chuckling to myself, I turned my attention back to the journal.
Translating the code without paper and pen to write with was a lot harder. I could scratch out some words in the dirt, but a lot of the conversion had to be done in my head, and there was no way to permanently record anything that I did manage to figure out.
Because of this, when the next word I translated from the journal made no sense, I assumed I’d just messed up somewhere.
I worked through the code again, making sure to carve out everything in the dirt to ensure its accuracy.
The word remained the same.
“Wait.” I glared down at the page, certain that I must have misunderstood something. “That can’t be right, can it?”
I moved on to the rest of the sentence, hoping that maybe some context would give me a better understanding of what the journal was talking about.
It did. After just a few more sentences of translation, I fully understood what the journal was talking about; I just didn’t understand why Lisianthus had changed from her detailed record of their escape, to such a... seemingly random topic.
