A Trust Earned
Aiza Clan Series – Book 2
By Diana Castilleja
ONE
Late Summer, Southwest Oregon
Bram looked over his shoulder and swallowed at the absolute certainty that he wasn’t alone. The rustle of whispered sound curled out to him from the trees, a movement just beyond him hidden by the darkened shadows between trunks and foliage. Something he couldn’t see but could hear prowling, pacing him, unseen deep in the shadows. More than once, his gaze strayed to the brush and trees surrounding him as he walked. He did his best to ignore it. He’d had the invisible companion for the better part of a day and a half already. Whatever it was hadn’t bothered him, and he couldn’t see it. He was fine with the status quo.
Pausing for a break, he lifted his canteen and took a short sip, capping it carefully when he was done. He was being cautious with his water, trying to not gorge himself on what was left. He didn’t know when he’d find water again the way things were going for him.
He peered into the dusky tree line with a straining search where he stood but couldn’t see anything to give away the source of the sounds that had all but mimicked his every step. A soft breeze shook the trees and sunlight broke through the canopy a moment later, arcing in slices of radiance bringing the realization home that he was being foolish. He was alone in the woods except for Mother Nature, but it didn’t stop the feeling of being observed either.
After a few minutes of studied scrutiny, he realized with a sense of dread that the shadows were thickening with evening closing in around him. Darkness was taking over the tree line and obscuring his path quickly. The unwelcome idea came to him that he was going to have to spend yet another night lost amongst the trees. With that fact looming, he was thankful he had brought his windbreaker on a whim, his only protective garment tied around his waist as he had made his way down miles of trails.
He cursed at his own arrogant stupidity as he slowly started to hike again. He’d gone much farther than he had planned on, assuming with the aid of his compass and the recognizable landmarks he could leave the main trail safely. That was the first mistake he’d made. The second was not having enough food for what he had thought was going to just be a day hike. His father would have been ashamed at his brash overconfidence.
He clenched his fists as his father’s teaching flooded him. He knew better. He knew better! He ground his teeth, fighting off a wave of despondency, an acute depression that the death of his father had left in his life.
He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, centering his thoughts. Realizing now that he had gone too far didn’t do him any good, other than to drill home the fact that he was going to be sleeping on the ground again.
“Priorities,” he muttered as he continuously took in the landscape around him, searching for the best place to call it a night. The rolling hills led to brief sharp rises of low escarpments and trees. He turned and twisted to take in his surroundings, larger than life Douglas Firs on either side of him. He caught the swift twitch of a chipmunk’s tail, scurrying with intent and speed to a hiding place as he walked past.
He’d set out the morning before, full of enthusiasm, a happy anxiousness to visit the area where he and his father had camped together, had spent their last summer being a father and a son before Bram had left for college. He’d been absorbed in the views, the peaceful abandon that was just not possible in the middle of St. Louis. There was something spectacular about the land, a freedom, a scent in the air, the way he could stretch his frame in the wildness of the Pacific Northwest that even the best manicured park couldn’t emulate. And he’d lost track of time. He’d realized late yesterday with a bitter reprimand that he’d also lost his compass. He could hear his father berating him for his carelessness. So now he was lost. He’d thought he’d been positioned south of the Sisters, but he hadn’t seen the twin mountain peaks through the tree line for a while and had become nervous as the day grew later, fearing that as humans could do, he was walking in circles. He stopped on the path, hearing faint sounds again. He slowly twisted his head toward them, his gaze sharp, his ears tuned into the natural hum around him. The snap of a twig, the flutter of leaves settling. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“Who’s there?” he called, subconsciously aware it was only him and nature, and Mother Nature didn’t talk. He narrowed his eyes as he searched into the shadowed, twined undergrowth. He shook his head, forcing himself to relax. No, there wasn’t anyone else out here. Just him and a lot of small, furry animals.
Releasing the wary feeling with a strong exhaled breath, he looked up, craning his neck to get a better idea of where he was, but the path was narrow and the coverage was high, already casting long shadows before him. He should have tried to find a place to bed down for the night over an hour ago but he’d been determined to find his way out, and now he was short on light. He continued in a direction that he hoped was correct, using the lengthening shadows to guide his steps. Several minutes later he broke through the edge of the trees to a gentle clearing. Just a break in the trees with a mound to the side. He hated the idea of lying out in the open again praying the occurrence of predators was still rare in this particular area of the state. He made a disgusted face as the thought occurred to him that he didn’t really have much of a choice considering his lessening light.
He made a circuit of the clearing, checking for recent prints or signs of life. After two circles, and finding nothing that would be alarming, he bundled a few twigs and fallen limbs and dug a shallow pit with the heel of his boot, putting the mound at his back. At least he had remembered to grab his travel lighter, he thought as he started a small fire to give a little light and a touch of warmth. It was a barrier more than a comfort.
He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the grassy knoll, his long legs stretched out before him into the growing darkness. He loved to hike, to be outdoors and had actually been intent on Yellowstone for his break but on his way west had changed his mind. He’d already been through miles of Yellowstone. He and his brother Mitchell had made numerous trips to the well-known parklands with their father while growing up, but their last trip together had been special. He hadn’t known it and neither had his father, but it would be the last camping trip they would ever take together. His father had been a real woodsman, a throw back. He could hunt, fish, and camp like a pioneer. No matter how long he lived in the city, his father had never lost his wonder of the great outdoors. While Bram hadn’t received that entire gene, he was happy with what he did have. He had survival knowledge, could tell direction by the stars and if necessary, could find a way to eat and stay alive. He silently prayed it didn’t come to that. Eating bugs had never been a secret childhood fantasy, even though his dad had shown him how to do it and how to look beyond what he was consuming. The thought made Bram smile softly as he stared, his thoughts lost on the past. Man, he missed his dad. His dad was the reason he’d come out west. His death had been unexpected and difficult. This trip was for him. Homage to the man and what he’d loved, a memory to his skill. His Mom and Mitchell were still at home, starting to rebuild. She was starting over and Mitchell was starting college. They had all tried in their own way to make peace with his passing, but it hadn’t been easy. They never once thought he’d get cancer and never doubted he couldn’t beat it. He reached for the canteen at his side and took a shallow swallow, shaking it with dejected anticipation. He let out a breath. Less than half. He was going to have to be careful with what he had unless he could find fresh water.
He leaned his head back, looking up to search the stars, already starting to dazzle the darkening night sky. He sought the patterns that he’d learned when he was a boy, sitting on his father’s knee in their own backy
ard. He located north, and then made the compass in his mind’s eye, finding south and east, then relaxed. He could find his way in the morning.
Sitting straight, he stared into the fire when he heard a sound, like a soft sneeze. He looked into the tree line not seeing anything again, but as his gaze coursed back and forth, the hairs on his neck stood up with little warning. There was that feeling again that he was being watched. His lips thinned. He knew he was tired, and by morning his ignorable hunger pangs would be as loud as the rumble at Aneheiser-Busch stadium during the playoffs, but the feeling he was being watched would not leave him.
Staring into the shadowed depths his eyes widened and he felt a hitch in his breathing. It wasn’t at the tree line. It was deeper in the blackness. Two gray eyes, shining out of the darkness as they watched him with as much intent as he was watching them.
For a matter of heartbeats neither so much as flinched. Then, in a blink, it disappeared. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. After a minute or two, when it looked as though whatever it was wouldn’t be returning, he released the breath he had been holding. The encounter left him unsettled and wary for the rest of the night. He managed a stilted sleep at best because of the uncertainty of where his midnight watcher had gone.
The next morning, feeling groggy and gritty, he refilled the hole that had held his meager fire, and finding his directional bearings again, made his way south. Day three, he thought just as his stomach rebelled with a harsh sound.
He cursed again, not so silently this time as he trudged on a path that he hoped was an actual path. What would happen if he really was lost? He’d allowed himself to go soft while being in school, according to his stomach. His long grueling hours serving his internship at St. Louis Med Center in the ER didn’t equate to long hours of actual exercise, and his stomach was letting him know it. He fought down the hunger pains, making his feet move with purpose.
Unfortunately, thinking of the hospital, his other home, brought to mind Rebecca, the one person he really was trying not to think about too much while on this trip. She was making loud marriage noises and he wasn’t ready. He did care for her. At least, he assumed he cared for her. He imagined he could even be in love with her.
He shook his head even as he thought it. Something just wasn’t right between them. He had envisioned a life of love and happiness, like his parents had shared, but Rebecca didn’t seem to be the right one. He could admit he cared for her, but he just wasn’t happy anymore. He pushed a low hanging branch out of his path. It was a feeling that as he’d progressed and picked his future, they’d outgrown one another but she refused to let it go. To let him go.
As his thoughts rambled, his feet carried him down one nonexistent trail to another, as due south as he could discern. He’d worn the windbreaker overnight to ward off the chill of the evening, a steep contrast to the heat of the days.
Oregon was in the middle of a hot streak. The day he’d left, it had been ninety-seven with forecasts of gradually increasing heat. Today it could be a hundred. He wouldn’t have been surprised, but the jacket was beginning to impede his progress as branches and stiff growth grabbed at him. He took a deep breath as he slowed, trying to refocus his attention to where he was putting his feet.
Giving up on his rambling thoughts for the moment, he stopped, leaning against the trunk of a tree and took a drink. The canteen was nearly empty now and as the sun broke through the trees, the predictions for the heat index looked like they were going to be accurate. Taking a step to start once more, he paused as he heard the rustle in the foliage to his right. It was louder, as if to acknowledge each other’s presence. He peered into the trees in the direction it had come from but saw nothing. Sunlight and shadow.
He remembered the eyes from last night and felt a tingle on his skin. Something was following him, but when silence was his only companion, he started walking again. He stopped shortly after to remove his windbreaker, wiping an arm across his damp brow. As much as he hated to do it, he drank the last swallow from his canteen. He frowned, aware that his options had just shortened dramatically.
The sun had risen higher still, nearing its height when he noticed a change in the thickness of the trees. He cocked an ear, stilling his breathing. A stream or a creek was just to his left. He released his held breath with a hope of fresh water. He followed the sound for several minutes, finally breaking free of the trees to find a shallow, swift paced creek.
Even as hungry and thirsty as he was and with his exhaustion growing, he could draw in and relish the beauty of what he had found. Bleached rock framed the waterway on either side, showing it was a winter run off stream. Trees, tall and full, swayed on either bank in unison. It was a gorgeous spot. The water ran clear and cool as he knelt on the bank. He drew one deep cleansing breath, savoring the crisp taste of the air on his tongue. His father had always said he’d had a good nose for the outdoors. Now he could understand what that meant.
He recognized the smell of the trees, the earth beneath his body, the scent of wildlife just out of reach. He let his head drift to his chest where he knelt, the feeling of his father and his words right there in his mind. He’d never allowed himself release to cry at the funeral and he had not cried when his mother needed him to be the man of the house. In this place of nature that was so much of what he remembered of his father, he couldn’t hold back the pain, and he didn’t even try. His sob was harsh in the quiet of the creek, the gurgling sound of the water his only backdrop to the sharpness of his grief. Whether it was from emotional or physical exhaustion, it didn’t matter. This place, this serenity was who his father was, had been. For a brief moment the boy inside mourned his father like a son should, letting the empty space that had been created by his death fill again with memories and the love that they had shared. For now, in his silent private world, his show of grief was allowable.
Several minutes passed before he sucked in a smooth breath. The scent of this place would stay with him forever, helping him to remember his father. He unclenched his hands and wiped the tears from his eyes, having permitted his heart to finally bleed for the father he’d never talk to again.
Straightening again with lengthening resolve and a deeper calm, he surveyed his surroundings once more. Now he needed to get out of the woods. He leaned to run a hand through the water. It was clear and cool, nearing cold. Probably spring water, he mused as the water drifted over his fingers. Cupping his hands, he took a shallow, careful sip. All he found on his tongue was a slight iron taste but nothing he couldn’t handle. He slowly drank then filled his canteen to full. With that done, he splashed his face, cleaning the emotional tracks and dust from his features, scraping the excess off with his fingers and shaking them dry.
As he sat back on his haunches, letting the sun beat down on him absorbing the warmth rather than dreading the hours still ahead for him, he heard it. A click against stone, a movement, and the soft sound of breathing. He looked over a shoulder and was stunned into stillness. There in the broad daylight of the sun’s brightness, not more than fifteen feet away, stood a wolf. A beautiful creature of color and grace. They regarded each other, cautious but curious. Wolves were not common outside of Yellowstone and he’d heard of no sightings this far west, but there she stood. He was positive it was a female. A slight build—like a runner’s body was the first thought that came to mind—and delicate facial features ending in a pointed snout. Inquisitive gray eyes that stared at him in equal fascination.
The remarkable thing about the creature was the coat—a blended near white with roughed patches on her shoulders of golden yellow, with yellow tipped ears.
He swallowed, unable to move as the wolf raised its head, scenting the air with tentative actions. He continued to watch in awe as it whipped around and disappeared into the woods flanking him. He listened as he carefully turned in a crouch but the silence was deafening until he let out the gasp he had been holding.
Holy crap! A wolf! He jumped to his feet, wondering if there were more,
a pack. They hunted in packs, but somehow, he knew he was not in danger being as much a curiosity to the animal as it had been to him. He stepped toward the tree line where it had disappeared, wanting to follow, to see if there were others. He stopped himself, shaking his head ruefully. He was lost and needed to keep on track if he was going to get back to his car. He needed civilization, food and a hot shower before he needed to find a lone wolf in the wilds surrounding him.
He looked once more, longing in his heart, curiosity on the tip of his tongue, but reluctantly, he acknowledged he couldn’t. Facing the rushing creek again, he judged the flow and decided to follow it until he had to make another decision.
Hours later he was frustrated and angry with himself all over again. And starving, ready to just lie down and let whoever was able to find him. The stream had disappeared underground several hours ago and now he was just walking.
Where was he? How did he get so lost? He should have found some trace of a trail or a path by now. He cursed loudly when he realized that he was just as lost this evening as he had been that morning. He pushed on, drinking from his canteen when the hunger pangs became unbearable. Unfortunately, he was brashly draining his water for that hunger.
He grumbled and cursed, positive he had somehow managed to walk in circles yet again. Even if he wasn’t, he couldn’t be this lost!
He sat down on a felled tree, his head falling with tired relief to his crossed arms. He barked a shallow laugh. No one would even think of looking for him for another ten days. His vacation was for two weeks and he’d only been gone for not quite four. He looked up searching for the sun. Okay. Four. He was going to have to find a place to sleep again.
Exhausted, he just rested. He’d set a frenetic pace wanting to get back to a hot shower and a good meal. Yet as he sat, his stomach starting to touch his backbone, he realized his mistake too late. He was exhausted, weary, hot. He sipped on his water feeling the lighter weight of the canteen as he beat himself up over his mistake.
A Trust Earned Page 1
