Walking Through Shadows

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  Molly had watched her work in silence as she had arranged the boughs. Now she studied the mats with an expression Aquene did not understand. Surely the woman had slept on a mat before this night.

  “I’m not tired,” Molly finally said, the book held close to her chest. She had not parted with it since the moment they had faced each other in the cabin, each holding one end of it. Her protective gestures toward it did not escape Aquene. It was the manner of a mother protecting her child.

  “You must rest.” How she could make her understand they must sleep so they would be ready for the coming battle was unknown to her. She had to just keep trying to earn her trust and persuade her that she only had their safety at the heart of her words.

  Molly was shaking her head. “Seriously, I’m not tired.”

  Aquene did not feel weary either. “It is time for our bodies to rest if we are to travel tomorrow.” Just as she told Molly she must rest, Aquene must as well. They were together in this, beginning to end.

  “We have to find my friends tomorrow.”

  Aquene laid a hand on Molly’s arm. She did not blame her for her determination. “We have much to do, and you will be reunited with them. Of that I am most certain. It is not to be tonight, for now we must sleep. When the sun rises, all will change. Our journey will begin, and we will find those who traveled with you.”

  Molly’s eyes met hers, and Aquene could feel the emotion behind her gaze. Molly understood even as she resisted. And Aquene shared her feelings. Slumber would be hard to embrace if she did not know where Alumpum laid her head.

  Slowly Molly sank to the makeshift bed and her shoulders relaxed. “Tomorrow?”

  Aquene nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  Molly bounced a little on the mat, and a slight smile brightened her pale face. “You know, this isn’t so bad.”

  Aquene had been well taught to make camp whenever and wherever it was necessary. All the women of her people were given the skills that allowed them to live off the land that had been their home for many generations. Her people had been here since the beginning of time, and she felt a kinship with the land, the air, and the trees every day. It filled her with pride and peace.

  “No. It is not bad.” She frowned, knowing that she had done well with the tree branches. If she had more trees to work with she could have made it better, but still, it was far better than the bare ground.

  Molly laughed. “I didn’t mean it was bad. I meant it’s pretty comfortable, all things considered. You did a great job, Aquene.”

  Her words of praise brought a warmth to her cheeks she was unaccustomed to feeling. She liked it, or rather she liked Molly’s words of admiration. “We will sleep well here, and then we can complete our journey.”

  “You keep talking about a journey. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. This whole thing is pretty crazy, if you ask me. We were out for a hike, I found this book, and here we are. Even given my family history, things like this don’t happen to people like me. I’ve never heard of a single person in my family, or any other family, taking a little trip through time.”

  “Crazy?” It was the word she locked on. Aquene believed her understanding of the settlers’ language was broad, yet Molly kept speaking words she did not know.

  Molly made strange noises, waved her hands around, and rolled her eyes. “Crazy,” she said.

  The surprise of her actions made Aquene lean away. What was she doing? Suddenly she understood, and as she did, the memory of the young man who had one day walked into the river and let the water carry him away came to her. From the time he was a child he had been like no other. He often screamed at nothing, would crouch behind the rocks and talk as though someone was with him, and once he jumped from the cliffs when he had no reason to flee. After that day, he had never walked the same again. She believed he was this crazy that Molly spoke of.

  What was not as clear was why she used it to describe what was happening between them now. No, she did not believe any of it was crazy. They were embarking on something important, and moving through time did not worry her as it seemed to do for Molly. All things were possible. “I have seen you in visions, and I knew you would come.”

  Molly inclined her head. “You got one on me if you knew I’d take a trip back a couple hundred years. It was pretty much news to me.”

  That detail she had not seen in her dreams and visions. Since the first vision, she had known she would come and they would take this journey together. That the one she waited for did not exist in her own time was as much a surprise to her as it was to Molly. She had believed she would come from the east, as all the others had. That she came through the shadows from another time was unexpected. “No. I did not know where you would come from, only that you would appear.”

  “To do what?” Molly was still studying her face. “I still gotta say, none of this makes much sense to me.”

  “To save my people.” It was so simple to Aquene. She did not know why it was so difficult for Molly to see.

  Molly was shaking her head “You’re wrong about that, sister. You can make that declaration as many times as you want, and it won’t change a thing. I’m a baker, so unless you need me to bake you a cake, you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not a caped superhero. Oh, sorry. You probably don’t have superheroes, so just suffice it to say I’m a baker, not the savior of people.”

  “You cook?”

  Molly frowned a little. “No. I’m a baker. Oh, I can cook all right, but I leave the chef stuff to Winnie. I like to create art with my baked goods”

  This time it was Aquene who shook her head. All she really gleaned from what Molly tried to explain was that she worked with food. The difference between cooking and baking was of little importance. What was important was Molly’s presence here. “You may well be, as you say, a baker, but you are much more, and you will save my people.”

  * * *

  The instant Matthew stepped foot inside the cabin, the difference hit him full in the face. The air had an emptiness that had not been here before. It told him everything he needed to know in a second. The grimoire was gone. The fury that surged through him at the realization was red hot. That he had been foolish enough to leave here without fully searching the cabin for her grimoire was unforgiveable.

  Yet the failure was not his fault, for it was the men who assisted him who had carried the night, and it was those men who prevented him from completing his task in a thorough manner. They had been full of joy at their success in destroying the witch before she had time to cause harm in this beautiful land. Man’s land. She had brought her wicked ways into this glorious wilderness, believing that she would hone her craft at the throats of honest men. She had been wrong. For over a year he had tracked her, knowing that he would one day catch her, just as he had done with every other evil soul throughout the years, including many from her own family. His prey always put great effort into eluding him. Each and every one of them underestimated his skill. By the time he was a mere year into his first career, he had become a great master. Now he had no equal, not in this life or in any that came before. No other hunter had ever matched him in skill, and each of the hunted failed in their attempts to outwit him. The same was true for the one who called this pitiful cabin home, as she had learned on the night he put the rope around her neck and stoked the fire at her feet.

  But here, though he had stopped the witch he had hunted for those long months, the tragedy created by his workmen’s joy had given another the chance to find the book. It was dangerous in ways he dared not think about. If it were to fall into the hands of one with even a touch of the evil that had lived within the burned witch… That was something he could not allow to happen. Letting those buffoons who had accompanied him prevent him from doing his job was criminal. They were to blame for what had happened here now. If they were still with him, like the witch, they too would pay with their lives.

  As he stepped farther into the cabin, frustration accompanied him. The darkness falling out
side was deeper in here. His eyes adjusted, and he could make out the fireplace, which still held the embers of a glowing fire. He was not surprised someone had been here, for it was the lone shelter for miles. When the rain fell, the coolness it brought with it could chill a man down to his bones. After walking over to the fireplace, he put several small pieces of wood on the embers, feeling satisfied when they caught. It served to bring a bit of light into the dull room. That was when he noticed the missing floorboard. He walked over to it, knowing full well what he would find even without looking.

  But he did look anyway. He stared down at the darkness inside the hole revealed by the missing floorboard. Fury returned and rolled through him again like the waves of the ocean that had carried him across the waters to this new land. This time, he did more than just let it rush through his body. This time he picked up a stool that sat next to his feet and hurled it at the wall. It struck with a resounding crash, breaking into several pieces that flew in different directions. The destruction gave him only a touch of satisfaction. Next, he grabbed the edge of the lone table. He pulled up on it and pushed with all his might. It turned easily on its side, tipping onto the floor with an even louder and more gratifying boom. Now he felt better.

  His hands clenched at his sides, his breath coming hard, he stood and stilled with his eyes closed. It was important to control himself, for that was what a great hunter did. Such men did not ever, under difficult circumstances, let their emotions show. In this isolated place, he had allowed himself this one moment of indulgence. Only a moment, and then he gained control once more. When calm and rational thought returned, he understood what he must do next. The solution was simple. He had to find the grimoire. Truly, it was that simple.

  He walked to the fireplace and held his hands over the small fire, pressed his lips together in a hard line, and straightened. More than a feeling of warmth crept over him. At first he had believed a random traveler had built a fire here, but now he knew that was not the case. God was showing him the truth and the way. She had been here to build this fire and take the book from beneath the floor. His certainty that it was a she was absolute, and now he knew what he hunted. She was no different from the others, for he knew their smell, their secrets, and their tricks.

  Striding out the door, he breathed in the still-lingering scent from the burned tree, and it turned up the corners of his mouth in a smile that chased away his melancholy. Things would be fine. He would fix this, as he did everything. He paused long enough to study the outline of the tree. It was still sufficiently sturdy to handle the burning of yet another evil soul. Yes, it would be the right thing to do, and to do it here would be perfect.

  Clouds once more began to gather high above his head, helping the darkness take full purchase. Wind kicked up pine needles and fallen leaves, sending them to dance without music. The trees began to sway as if they were trying to keep time. A storm was again beginning to collect strength, or perhaps his heavenly father was giving him a sign that he was on the proper path but needed to be on his way. He smiled more brightly, and peace flowed over him.

  He would be on his way soon, following her trail and bringing justice to bear. First, he put his hands together, lowered his head, and began to silently pray. When he was done, he looked toward the tree and nodded. All was right with his world, for he was confident he knew exactly where to go.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first raindrop hit Molly right smack in the middle of the forehead as she lay back against the pine boughs, staring at the sky and contemplating Aquene’s declaration that she’d been hurtled back in time to save Native Americans. “Oh, no,” she said as she wiped away the moisture and sat up. When she did, she pulled the grimoire close in a protective embrace. She didn’t want it to get wet if rain really was on its way. The slight overhang of rock that they’d set up camp beneath wasn’t nearly wide enough to protect them from rain.

  Aquene jumped up and began to gather the tree boughs that made up their mats. “We must hurry. A storm is on the way, and it comes like an eagle chasing prey.”

  “Hurry where?” Molly looked around and couldn’t see any place that would afford them any better cover than they had right here. Not that she could see much in the darkness. She did know they were actually a fair distance away from a refuge with enough trees to protect them from the rain. All they had were the boughs Aquene had gathered and brought back for their beds. At least her jacket was rain-resistant, so it would keep her dry for a while. Too bad she hadn’t opened her wallet a little wider and bought the rain-proof jacket. Live and learn, she guessed. Then again, how exactly was she to anticipate finding herself here?

  “We will stay here.”

  “And do what?”

  “Use what we have,” Aquene explained to her as she began to arrange the boughs in a different configuration. “We have all that is needed to keep our bodies dry.” Was there anything this woman couldn’t figure out? Molly was amazed at how fast and efficiently Aquene was able to take the makeshift bedding and turn it into a decent overhead shelter, albeit a tight one. Before the rain had a chance to gather strength, they huddled together beneath a canopy of branches. Definitely the person she would want to take with her on a backwoods expedition.

  By all rights she should be terribly uncomfortable sitting here on the cold ground, leaning against a woman she didn’t know, and not just hundreds of miles from home but hundreds of years away from home as well. Holding the grimoire and with her knees pressed to her chest, oddly, Molly felt exactly the opposite: snug and comfortable, warm and almost relaxed. The air was clear and clean, and their tiny home away from home, cozy.

  Now what was that about? How could she possibly be this relaxed? In this insane situation she found herself in? She must be losing it, but that wasn’t anywhere she wanted to go. She had to buck up and figure out how to get back home. She wasn’t anyone’s savior. She couldn’t even save herself from that stupid fire that had set this whole bizarre situation into motion. If that fire hadn’t shut her down, she’d be back home baking away and not worrying about being a witch or needing her powers to finally manifest so she could return to her own time and place.

  Though the rain was beginning to fall in earnest and the sky was filled with clouds, overhead the moon still managed to cast a milky glow. Even the clouds and rain couldn’t shut it down entirely. Under different circumstances, this moment would be romantic. Figures it would be here: wrong time, wrong place. She almost sighed out loud. Instead, she leaned back against the rock, keeping her shoulder firmly against Aquene’s. Maybe she could shift the other way and give Aquene a bit of space. She didn’t want to. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to rest. If she was able to go to sleep, she’d be surprised.

  It was hard to judge the passage of time. She just knew it was passing and she wasn’t any closer to sleep. A thought occurred to her and she patted her pocket. Surprise, surprise. While her pack might not have made the journey to the wilds, her pocket flashlight did. At least something was going right. She pulled it out and twisted the end. A beam of light filled their little shelter with illumination. Not quite a floodlight, but it would do.

  The sudden appearance of light seemed to shock Aquene, who bolted up. “No!”

  The single word uttered with such fear shocked Molly. “What?”

  “The light. He will see us.”

  Oh, she hadn’t thought of that. Molly twisted the end again, and they were once more plunged into darkness.

  “What kind of magic is that?” Aquene’s question was filled with shock.

  Molly smiled. “We call them flashlights and not as much magic as technology.” She could almost imagine what it would be like to see something like this for the first time. It even seemed like magic to her right at the moment.

  “Tech…”

  This time she laughed. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting a lot of this is brand-new to you. This—” She twisted the light on again, holding the beam low between them so that its illuminatio
n was confined to their small space. She moved the flashlight back and forth. “This is another thing that will come to pass many years from now. Everyone has them, and they’re awfully handy.”

  Aquene gingerly touched a finger to the flashlight and drew her hand back quickly. “It is hard and cold, like the metal of the knives we trade for.”

  Molly supposed that would be surprising. If she was from this place, she guessed she’d expect it to feel warm like an oil lamp or a torch. It might be confusing to see light and feel the cool touch of metal. “It has a metal case, and inside are what we call batteries. They make the light. A wonderful thing, and tonight it’s light and that’s good.”

  “It is good. You have some very strange things that are wonderful.” Aquene leaned back and relaxed. “I like your light.”

  Molly pressed herself close to the rocks before she played the beam across the grimoire. She didn’t want to upset Aquene any more by brandishing the little sliver of light into the night. Aquene probably did have a point about it being seen by others. If any others were out there besides Winnie and Angus. Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be a good thing if her friends were able to see the light? Probably, but no sense in tempting fate.

  “I do too.” What she didn’t say was that the flashlight was a tiny connection to home and that gave her solace. The feeling of being out of sync was almost overwhelming, and something as little as the penlight gave her something to grab on to.

  She had yet to open the thick leather cover so like many of the grimoires she’d seen through the years. The ones of the witches of her family that came before her. Each had one, and each shared the hard-won knowledge of time and experience. Her own was slim, at least right now, but she had hope that it would someday hold important knowledge.

  “It is important to our journey.” Aquene’s words were very light on the night air as they broke into the web of thoughts and emotions weaving through her. It put Molly off a little that Aquene seemed to be able to draw her very thoughts from inside her head. But it also excited her a little. She’d never been that in tune with anyone before.