by J. K. Holt
∞ ∞ ∞
The descent took only two days, the path widening as it became less steep. Though it was colder on this side of the mountain, it was clear, the clouds clustered behind them, and so they stayed dry and warmer. Tess concentrated only on finding sure footing as they trekked, knowing all too well how unfortunate a twisted or broken ankle would be at this point. They talked more now as they traveled, mostly short comments on the vegetation or weather, but there were hints of humor as well, as Fish, Dray, and Rosie engaged in banter that seemed effortless, a natural byproduct of their many years together. Tess contented herself with listening.
As Merktown had abutted the south side of the Misties, another town crouched low against the mountain on the north side as well. Flinston was a mining town, grimy where Merktown was clean, the sort of blue-collar place that appreciated the basic necessities but didn’t reach for more- not poor, but steady, comfortable with its lack of finesse.
The roads leading to the mountains from the town were well worn, ruts carved deep from the wagons dragging ore back and forth. As they passed one such wagon, pulled by large quarter horses, Tess thought of Tommy and hoped he was being treated with kindness.
When they stopped at an actual house for lodging, Tess almost wept upon sight of the bed in her room. Rosie derided her at first but thought better of it after a moment. “Truth told, it is a beautiful sight after the last week.”
Tess had never been so close to hugging Rosie as in that moment.
The other larger reason they had to be grateful for reaching Flinston was something none of them had the courage to mention before- they had been getting dangerously low on supplies. They’d underestimated how much they’d each need to eat a day while climbing, not taking into account how many calories they would burn, and require, on their climb. They’d been only a day away from running out when they had dragged themselves into Flinston. They couldn’t stay for more than a night before moving on, but during that time they’d need to resupply.
That evening, they found a small local tavern and ordered hot food, a luxury after their week in the mountains. Tess sighed in pleasure, placing her head on Fish’s shoulder beside her and nearly nodded off with food still in her mouth. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Rosie was mirroring her actions across the table, long hair falling across Dray’s chest as she used his steady shoulder like a pillow, a look of contentment on her face. Tess’s food turned to a glob in her mouth and she forced herself to swallow and look away, feeling childish for her jealousy but unable to distance herself from it.
Though reluctant, she brought her eyes back to find Dray staring at her, his grey eyes boring into her own as if to read the emotions that she was working hard to hide. She felt a flush rising on her cheeks, but fought to hold his gaze, allowing what vulnerability she felt to show in her features. He deserved to know.
She was both desperate and terrified to know how he felt, what he was thinking. She’d spent enough time with him over the last week to know he didn’t hate her. Instead, she feared indifference, a calculated decision to place a new wall between the two of them, a natural response to the actions she’d taken- leaving without explanation, taking Loren as well, and leaving only a note behind, full of lies while at the same time encouraging him to reach out to Gowan or Tulla for the truth.
She’d been such a coward.
Truth told, she also questioned Dray’s feelings for Rosie. That they loved each other was apparent, and understandable, but Tess was curious about the exact nature of that love. Russ had more or less told Tess that Rosie had held a candle for Dray since they were children, but Dray kept his emotions close to the chest. Still. Rosie was beautiful, in a wild and free way. And she was strong, and honest, and real. Tess herself had grown quite fond of Rosie recently, of her loud personality and brash courage. She admired her, acknowledging a kindred spirit, in a way. And once she realized that, she had to wonder whether Dray saw the same, and was attracted to it. She couldn’t fault him if he was, though the heartbreak would sting just as strongly.
And it would be heartbreak. Calling it less would minimize something that deserved more respect than that.
All this flashed through her mind as she met his eyes, and a nearly imperceptible shift happened as she looked at him- his aura began to swirl outward, as if drawn to her. It didn’t leave his body, as it had when he was being blurred, but instead it called to her. She reached out a hand, mesmerized, touching the nearest tendril tenderly, and heard Dray inhale sharply. He’d felt it somehow.
Before she could react, or experiment further, Fish drew an arm around her. “You alright, girlie?”
Rosie herself opened her eyes and looked at Tess quizzically, and she withdrew her hand, realizing how it must look to them. “Yes, just more tired than I realized.”
“We’ll head back,” Fish said. “We could all use the rest in a quality bed. Dray?”
Dray was still staring at Tess, eyes wide. “Aye, I suppose we should.”
Rosie made a brief pout before abandoning Dray’s shoulder to sit upright. “Fine. But no snoring tonight, Tess.”
“I don’t snore.”
Rosie snorted. “Sure, you don’t. Must be the horses I’ve been hearing every night.”
They spilled out into the night air, pulling cloaks tighter as they made the short trek to the inn. Tess made a point to walk beside Dray, but his aura stayed close to his body, and he kept his hands to himself during the walk.
That night, Rosie snored. Tess wished she had her phone so she could record it for proof, but alas- no such luck.
∞ ∞ ∞
Now that they were back on relatively flat land, with at least fifty more miles to travel, they needed to find speedier transportation. Though stables in Flinston were plentiful, most housed working horses not for lease. After walking around for most of the morning from stable to stable, one of the stable hands took pity on them and pointed them towards a small, derelict pasture north of the main town, where they found a man named Charlie who kept mules. He was willing to give them five but charged them an exorbitant price, likely emboldened by being the only game in town. They grumbled, but paid it- what choice did they have?
Tess missed Tommy, but took the time to make friends with her new traveling companion, a sweet girl named Darla. Grateful for the rest, her blisters still raw and bloody, she clambered up.
The terrain was rocky and uneven, huge boulders dotting the landscape, and Tess appreciated the sure footing and tough hooves of the mules. The air was warmer, and Tess was able to shed her heaviest layer by mid-morning. She reacquainted herself with the brilliant light of the sun, as they seemed to have left the clouds behind, still caught behind the jagged peaks of the Misties.
The road has also widened, so they could often ride in pairs. Tess remembered Loren riding beside her only a week past, and she wondered where he was and if he was alright. Shame followed the realization that she thought after his welfare, but she pushed it aside. She remembered his arms pulling her from the water, saving her from a painful end, and knew how it was that she’d lessened the hatred in her heart for him.
Now, Rosie often rode beside her, her presence reassuring though they spoke little. When Rosie did break the silence, several hours into their ride, it was unexpected.
“Are things that different, where you’re from?”
Tess thought before answering. “Yes, in many ways. We’re more advanced than you technologically. I could tell you about some of our inventions, but I think you’d probably ask questions I don’t have the answers to, about how they work and why we need them. Although some of them are quite useful. Like cars,” she said wistfully. “But if you look past that, we’re really still the same- just people, messing up our lives and trying to figure it out as we go.”
Rosie was pensive as she looked across the terrain. “Did you have many friends?”
The question seemed out of character for Rosie, but Tess answered anyway. “I thought I did. But
after my mom died- well, most faded away after a while. Not that I blame them- I wasn’t much fun after that. I had changed, so we no longer connected in any real way. I mean, it was hard to think about what grades I was getting in school, or who was backstabbing who, or what sport I should go out for. Which is funny, since it seemed all I was interested in before then. But after mom…I tried for a bit, but my heart wasn’t really in it. It’s hard to think about who you want to invite to the spring formal when your entire world has just been turned upside.”
“The spring formal?”
“A dance. You take a date, a boy or girl you like. Preferably someone you like romantically, rather than a friend.”
Rosie frowned. “Sounds frivolous.”
Tess laughed. “Absolutely. But frivolous can be fun. If you’re in the mood.”
Rosie grew silent again, and Tess missed the conversation. She prompted- “So you’re not the frivolous type, but still…I’m sure you know how to have fun, at least occasionally.”
A smirk played across Rosie’s mouth. “Snails, Tess. Believe it or not, I do have it in me, on occasion, to be fun.” She squinted. “At least, I used to. Truth told, it hasn’t happened in a while, unless you count that time I nailed Reydon in the face.”
“When did it stop?”
Rosie shrugged, and when she did speak it was halting, each word measured. “Hard to tell. It seemed like one of those things that happened so slowly that I didn’t even notice the change. I started to grow… brittle. And it was long before Russ was blurred, or even before you joined our group. It was like life had become more about expectations, and obligations. And I think I just stopped considering what I wanted. Russ and I were always needed at the Inn, and whenever we were with the others it had become all about the cause, about the fight. It seemed wrong to be anything other than steadfast and serious. I couldn’t be happy, or free, without feeling guilty for it.” She frowned, tightening her hands on the reins. “Then one day, I looked in the mirror and didn’t even like myself anymore.” Anguish painted each word, making them stand alone in the silence that followed.
Surprised, Tess cocked her head. “Do you still feel that way?”
Rosie shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. How can it not?” Tess gaped. “I find it hard to believe that you can’t find something in the mirror to love.”
Rosie corrected her posture, sitting up straight, steel eyes facing forward as she spoke. “And what part is that, Tess? If you mean my beauty, I’ll acknowledge it, though it means little.”
“I don’t mean your beauty.”
Rosie scoffed. “What, then? I can’t imagine I’ve endeared myself to you, not with how I’ve acted since we first met.”
“What?” Tess held a hand to her heart. “But you were so welcoming and warm,” she said dryly, and coaxed a grin from Rosie. “Alright, you were a pain in the ass. But even then, I saw how strong you were, and intelligent, and fierce you were for your friends. I admired you. Which is probably why it stung that you clearly didn’t return the feeling. But I like you even more now, spending these past few weeks with you. And I can’t believe that you don’t like those things about yourself.”
Rosie’s smile had started to look plastic and unnatural, like someone acting at the emotion. “They’re necessary, all those things. For survival. It’s like admiring the way a dog bites back when attacked- it’s just nature.”
Now it was Tess’s turn to scoff. “That’s ridiculous. There are a million other ways you could have reacted that might have shown your true nature.”
Rosie shook her head but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned slightly in her saddle. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I treated you.”
“Don’t be. I don’t blame you. You didn’t know me, and after what happened with Reydon, I get why you had your suspicions. And I guess you were right; after all, I was lying to you about who I was.”
“Break soon?” Fish called from behind them, breaking their confidences. Rosie waved him off, intent on finishing the conversation. “And I don’t blame you for that,” Rosie said. “If you’d begun by being honest, we probably would have tossed you off the pier.”
They both laughed.
“And,” Rosie added softly, “I can’t imagine that you won’t find forgiveness for that in anyone else as well, once they’ve had time to swallow down the hurt.” She glanced back, and Tess took her meaning.
Then Rosie tugged the reins, leading her mule to a nearby patch of earth. Tess and the others followed suit. They stretched, relieved themselves, and ate before continuing.
Riding beside each other yet again, Tess felt a kindred connection to Rosie she hadn’t before, a more mutual understanding that increased the comfort in the silence, in the journey. Tess knew what it had taken for Rosie to admit what she had- a vulnerability had leaked through, which spoke to something else that remained unsaid but was still made perfectly clear-
Rosie liked Tess right back.
∞ ∞ ∞
A beautiful flower of water bloomed at Tess’s feet. Deep blue in its center, it melted into a cool hue of aquamarine, then emerald green, with a yellow umber finish in its tips. It called Tess like a siren, a gorgeous pool of warmth, and she leaned closer.
“Careful,” Dray said beside her, grabbing her elbow firmly and pulling her from her nearly hypnotic state. “It’s full of acid.” He sniffed. “That’s sulfur. Plus, it’s likely close to boiling.”
Tess refocused on the hot spring in front of her. “Is it wrong that I’m still tempted to dip my foot in it?”
“Not wrong, but definitely stupid.” Dray relaxed his hold on her arm but kept his hand there, as if worried about Tess’s decision making.
“I’ve only seen these once before,” Tess said. “At Yellowstone. I went on a trip with Maggie during summer vacation a couple years back. But I was never this close. They have these fences there, and-” she faltered when she saw Dray’s face, a puzzled expression on his face. “Oh. Sorry.”
Dray shook his head. “It’s alright. You should be able to speak freely. I just forget where you’re from, sometimes.”
Tess’s stomach turned. This was the first time Dray had made mention of her secret since he’d joined them, and she’d practiced what she’d say to him so many times. Now, though, nothing seemed right. “I’m so sorry, Dray.” The words sounded dull and small to her.
Dray opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes caught onto something behind her- Fish and Rosie approaching. They’d been speaking to a local farmer while Tess and Dray had stretched their feet.
“Oh, rot,” Tess grumbled, lowering her voice. “Never a moment alone.”
Dray dropped his hand from Tess’s arm. “Don’t jump in, Tess,” Fish said as he stopped to stand beside her, echoing Dray’s sentiment. “It only looks inviting, I promise.”
“He says there’s more,” Rosie said, inclining her head towards the figure of the farmer, heading back towards his fields. “Ones you can actually climb into, further along. There’s a sign a bit further, and a good clearing nearby for us to camp. How about it, then?”
“That sounds lovely,” Tess said, forcing a smile. She didn’t want the others to see her frustration at each missed opportunity to speak with Dray alone.
As they rode, the group marveled at the transformed landscape. The grasses, dead only ten miles back, had become lush and verdant, and trees held full leaves up towards the sunlight. True flowers bloomed in the fields, even springing from the ruts in the road, as if showing off. It felt like they’d wandered into an oasis. People even seemed more alive, men tipping their hats as they passed on horseback, children waving from a nearby field as they raced through the tall stalks.
“I’d heard of places like this, beyond the Misties,” Rosie said astride her mule, eyebrows raised. “But it’s another thing to experience it.”
“Is it just because we’re farther North?” Tess asked.
“It’s true w
e are in warmer country, and we’re heading into a new season,” Rosie conceded. “But this is something else. They say the earth runs warm here, and water flows close to the surface, keeping these places more temperate even in the winter.”
“Ahh. That explains the hot springs,” Tess said, feeling a bit slow.
“Aye. There’s the sign,” Rosie motioned to a fork in the road, riding ahead. “The town’s that way,” she said, pointing left for the others. “We’ll go right, and camp.”
The clearing was small, overgrown with the same grasses that covered the rest of the landscape, but the mules were happy to have abundant food and the grasses were easy to press down as they made space for their packs.
“We’ve a couple hours of daylight left,” Rosie said, glancing at the shadows cast by the nearby trees. “Fish, why don’t you help me with the mules? Tess, see if you and Dray can find these hot springs I was told about. There should be a path just west of here that leads to them. We’ll follow behind in a bit.”
Tess looked up from her pack to catch Rosie’s eye. Rosie inclined her head suggestively towards Dray and raise her eyebrows. Tess took her meaning, surprised at the gesture. So, her secret frustrations hadn’t been so secret after all. She winced, then looked around for Dray. He was pacing towards the edge of the clearing, already searching for the path. She hurried to catch up.
“Found it,” he said, gesturing to a well-worn area of packed dirt that disappeared behind the tree line. They followed it, single file, for a quarter mile or so, and then the smell of sulfur again began to tickle at their noses. Tess picked up the pace, knowing they were close. Finally, a cloud of steam became visible, and she followed it to the source.
