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“Nearly there,” he mutters, weaving around a patch of inky shadow. A ditch, maybe. The trees here are spaced far enough apart to let starlight filter through the branches, and Rowan’s navigating by the silvery sheen. “Then we’ll get you warm.”
I’m cold?
Oh, yeah. At some point I must have started shivering, because my teeth are chattering like crazy and my skin is goose-pimpled under my clothes. Could be the shock, too, I suppose.
It’s been a very weird day so far.
* * *
Rowan’s cave is hidden behind a waterfall, Batman style. He juggles me against his chest so that he’s holding my whole body with one arm, then uses a long stick to part the water above us and make a temporary door.
We’re still speckled with icy cold water droplets, and the mist from the waterfall frizzes my hair. As Rowan carries me into the cave, his footsteps are muffled on the stone floor, and I lick my lips and taste salt from the day’s sweat.
Maybe getting dunked in that waterfall wouldn’t be the worst thing, even if I am shivering. My clothes are stiff and stinky, and my hair is tangled from the wind.
“Here.” Rowan dumps me unceremoniously on what feels like a pile of blankets. It’s hard to tell in this pitch black cave, where it’s so dark I can’t see my hand when I wave in front of my own face. “Wait there. I’ll light the candles.”
Soft footsteps pad nearby. Can Rowan see somehow? Is his cave vision that good, heightened by life in the mountains? Or is he navigating the space by memory?
One by one, thick candles glow to life around the walls of the cave, each set in a rocky shelf. Rowan walks between them with a box of matches as the cave gets incrementally brighter.
“Oh, busted!” I point and laugh like a madwoman, kicking my boots when Rowan glances over with a raised eyebrow. “The Wild Man of Starlight Ridge uses matches to light his fires.”
Rowan scoffs and shakes his head, turning back to his task. “Obviously. I have a flint too, but it takes forever. I figure you want light more than the authentic caveman experience.”
He’s right—but that doesn’t stop me from plucking at the blankets on this cot, tutting loudly. “A bed too.” Of sorts. “Some wild man you are.”
Rowan lights the final candle and shakes his match out. “Don’t tell the other cryptids.”
With candles glowing from the cave walls, it’s not exactly bright in here, but there’s enough of a glow to see. Beside the narrow cot with its blankets—no pillow—there’s a small wooden stool that serves as a nightstand. Over by the cave entrance, where the waterfall drums steadily and mists the air, a large wooden table is spread with hunting knives and other tools.
A fire pit is ringed with stones and has a metal frame propped above it, with a hook for a cooking pot. Chopped wood is piled against one wall, and there are shelves stacked with basic food stores and other supplies. Some kind of brown pelt is spread on the cave floor.
And… that’s it.
No books. No games. No company.
Just Rowan, here in this half-empty cave, left alone with whatever tortured thoughts drove him up the mountain in the first place. An extra-large shiver wracks my body.
“Give me your foot.” If my host has noticed the change in my mood, he doesn’t mention it; instead he strides across the cave and kneels by the cot. “The swelling doesn’t look too bad.” Rowan unlaces my right boot and pulls my foot free, turning it gently this way and that, nodding to himself. “Just a mild sprain. If you rest it well enough tonight, you should be okay to walk down to town in the morning.”
The morning.
Can’t think about that right now. Can’t think about the future or the past, not while I’m tucked away in this secret cave with the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge.
As long as I’m here, as long as we’re together, there’s only room for the present moment in my brain.
“Keep it elevated.” Rowan taps my kneecap, and I swing my leg obediently onto the cot. Pale gray eyes flick to mine, then away. “Good.”
His jeans rustle as he stands. Where are his other clothes? Does he have any? How is he not freezing without a shirt? So many questions, though it’s admittedly hard to focus on them when Rowan’s waistband is at my eye level. This close, I can make out the shadow-cut muscles of his hips.
I swallow, my mouth dry.
“Evie,” Rowan says, and it’s definitely not the first time he’s said my name. I jolt, cheeks flaming as I look up at my rescuer. “Do you want to bathe? I can heat some water to warm you up.”
A bath. Oh my god, a bath. I would do terrible, terrible things for a hot bath right now, but I fight to keep my voice even. Be cool, you weirdo.
“Yes, please.”
