Rain (Stranger in the Woods Book 1)
Page 35
Chapter Thirty Three
Rose
The warm season passes too quickly. Winter months are back and on us like a thick, frozen blanket. At least, it feels frozen to me. This cold season seems worse than the last. Usually we get breaks and sun. I’m not handling the constant snow like everyone else, especially at night. Gunner has, once again, adapted like a champ. Never have I envied elf blood as I do, watching everyone function, making food, doing laundry, as I shiver endlessly. Storm is always coming to me—extremely pregnant like me—with a steaming wooden cup of herbal tea. “You’re a lifesaver, Storm.”
She sits next to me. “You are so easily impressed by a simple gesture.”
“How can I ever repay you for all you have done for me?”
“Isn’t this just what friends do?”
My eyes meet hers. “Yes, thank you… my friend.”
Besides Gunner and Ryder, Storm is one who has become so dear to me. She is kind to a fault, and I love her for it.
Aside from her perfectly honeyed tea, the only other break I get is when two males crawl into my bed. Gunner and Ryder’s heat soaks warmth back into my bones.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling where their knife holsters hang above us for easy access in case there’s an unexpected battle. My heart sings, thinking of how lucky I am, until my eyes lose sight of their weapons on the ceiling and shut in the bliss of restful warmth. Ryder and Gunner claim I snore. This is still open for debate.
Eventually, a battery-operated heating blanket is sent by Mama as a late Christmas gift. Gunner and Blaze went to check on my family and Mr. Hayes. I’m jealous. I would pay any dollar amount to see her again, but I find comfort crawling into bed, knowing she is loving me the best she can from afar. Because of the baby, I always go to sleep before Ryder and Gunner. The blanket is mysteriously without batteries whenever I wake up to two sleeping males, hanging halfway out from under the blanket, trying to cool off.
Once warmer weather finally returns, climbing the ladder with my protruding belly is becoming more than a challenge. It’s becoming impossible! Ryder refuses to move us into Gunner’s home on the ground. In the trees, he feels it’s easier to protect me. Gunner seconds the opinion, and again, I’m outvoted.
Simply too tired to stay awake with the rest of the village hanging out by the nightly fire, my human tendencies take over again, and I crawl into bed. Ryder laughs at me as he tucks me in. “That ladder almost won?”
“Ryder! I have Horror-mones. Beware.”
He kisses me. “Nighty night then. I’m finding Gunner for backup.”
Pulling my blue blanket over me, I complain, “He’s a coward, too! Go hide together.”
“That’s the thing. We don’t see it as cowardly as much as survival.”
I burst out laughing. “I’m that bad?”
Gunner yells from the ground. “Is it asleep yet?”
I loudly respond, “It? I’m an it now? I’m not tending to you anymore.”
“I love you, baby.”
Ryder backpedals. “An it I happen to adore?”
“Gunner has corrupted you.”
My heart rests hearing Gunner and Ryder carrying on as they walk from my home, talking. Blaze and Chase run up to them. “You males free from it yet?”
“I heard that!” My voice echoes in my little home while male laughter echoes below. How far we have come. Ryder, Gunner, Blaze, and Chase are now called the Final Four. They outlast everyone at the fire, always ready for more play time. And the Final Four are the village pranksters. Parker, Sage, and Hunter are ready to kill them.
One morning, Hunter was climbing his ladder to go to bed when, halfway up, it disconnected—mysteriously—and poor Hunter came crashing to the ground screaming, “Final Four!”
I heard the Final Four laughing uncontrollably. Gunner was dying. “Too bad I can’t stick that on YouTube.”
“YouTube?”
“Never mind, Ryder.”
Once, Sage was minding his own business shaving when he noticed his skin changing colors because his homemade shaving cream had been tampered with. “Final Four!” echoed out of his tent. Sage was blue for two weeks.
The Final Four have not found the cojones to mess with the females, but the Vike males have been fair game. Ivar looked ridiculous chasing the Final Four with a tiny wooden stool glued to his butt. “Feenul Fooore!”
Thinking of my males, I giggle in bed until I fall asleep.
Rose. I smile with the sound of his voice echoing through my head like a wonderful dream. Rose! I jolt. That tone is not dreamy.
I’m here…
The next sounds are so foreign for this village. Screams.
They are here.
My eyes open as my heart begins to pound. It’s still dark.
But, they don’t know where you are.
I hear feet running under my home and alarmed voices. With no humans to hide from, no one runs in stealth mode.
Stay. Stay.
Males fight all around outside. It’s eerie, terrifying.
I am not far from you, but they are studying me.
I nod my head in a panic, not thinking how Ryder can’t see me. I won’t move.
It is awful, simply awful to hear people you care for fighting—for you—and you can only hide and listen. Too much is at risk if captured, so helplessly I wait. Ryder has taught me some fighting moves, but I have no strength like theirs. Up against a Clone, I’m not even close to being a challenge. And this far along in my pregnancy, fighting moves are pointless.
Suddenly, I feel someone coming up my ladder. Ryder.
Gunner is on it.
“Not happening, son of bitch,” growls Gunner. I feel the vibrations of the struggle at my ladder.
Strong Vike accents give out warnings. “Thord, behind yu.”
Voices are everywhere as our village is invaded by the enemy. I want to run out there and help, but I know that will only make matters worse. Once the Clones locate me, they will come to me, sacrificing themselves to Guardians until one gets through.
Something shifts under me. I can sense—almost smell—the panic as everyone yells instructions and takes off running. Off in the distance, a female screams in terror. All hell breaks loose. I feel my ladder shake again. Grabbing the knife Ryder gave me for emergencies such as this, I huddle in the corner, ready to fight for my baby.
When I see Gunner coming to me, I try to get up and run to him but end up on my hands and knees, crawling to him in despair. He rushes to me, whispering with fear, “Shh, Shhh. I’m here.” Taking my knife, he pulls me to him. Covering my mouth, he whispers some more. “Something is wrong. Ryder told me to get to you.” Terrified, I’m grabbing any part of him I can find, nodding and trembling but staying quiet like he told me to. That’s when I notice his eyes looking different, his skin with a very faint glow.
Gunner is on the floor with me, sweating, breathing hard with a knife in his shaking hand and Clone blood all over him. Watching the door and looking over his shoulder to see out a window behind me, he leans his face and wipes his cheek to mine. Gunner just marked me. I have no issues with his silent warning to anyone who approaches me.
We sit still in the dark, listening to more fighting, but it’s a ways from my home. No one comes to my ladder again. Clones are not trying to get me. Something has distracted them.
Finally, the fighting seems to end, but a few females are still screaming. Males and other females yell what sounds like frantic orders in their own language. Gunner keeps looking out the back window, still holding me to him on the ground. Nothing is going to fly through a window and hit me by his side. He whispers, “I don’t see any Clones, but something is terribly wrong.”
Don’t come, Rose.
“Ryder’s telling me not to come.”
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“Damn, something happened. They’re over by the fire.”
Slowly, I get off the floor to see out the window. “Will you take me out there?”
“No, Ryder must have a good reason to keep you put.”
“No one’s fighting—”
I stop when I feel the ladder move. Gunner shoves me in the corner, stands in front of me, and is ready to pounce. Both hands hold knives dripping in Blaze’s venom.
“Yu okey?”
Gunner’s shoulders relax. I peek around Gunner to see Ivar, sweating and dirty with blood on him. Without his knives touching me, Gunner pulls me to his chest. “Is it over?”
“Ya, but Ryder wunts Rose tu stay heer.”
I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Som wun eez hurt.”
“If there are no Demons and I am no longer the one in danger, I will be damned if I’m staying here when I could help the injured.” Gunner tries to stop me, but his hands are full as I pull away and head for my porch. I look up to the beast of a male in front of me. “Ivar, move.” He reluctantly nods and steps aside.
Me and my big belly head down the ladder. On the ground, there are dead Clones. Many of them. Each holds or lies next to a black rose. Goose bumps cross over my whole body. The commotion has moved to Crystal’s tent. Ryder sees me approaching and tries to stop me. “Rose, please.”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”
He inhales deeply and surrenders, moving from the tent’s entrance. I enter, and people are all around someone on the table, moving quickly and assisting Crystal.
“Storm!” Gunner runs to her side. I stop moving. My body simply freezes at the gruesome sight. She spits up blood with horror on her face. Her eyes meet mine. Storm is bleeding everywhere. She appears as though she has been torn to pieces, yet her drenched hand reaches for me. When Sage glances behind him to see who Storm wants, he moves to let me in closer.
My body somehow finds the strength to move forward.
My heart somehow finds the strength to keep beating.
I know—without a shadow of a doubt—the Demons thought Storm was me. And now she is paying the ultimate price for being the one the Universe picked to be pregnant alongside the Prophecy’s mother. She is paying the ultimate price for being my friend. I choke on tears. “I’m so sorry.”
Blood spurts from her mouth. “I’m—not. I’m—proud—to… have—been—chosen. P-Proud to… have been your… friend.” Crystal and everyone move so fast to save Storm’s life, even though it’s clear to us all she’s not going to live. She coughs some more. “Think of me… when it rains. I—I will… be watching—over her.”
I desperately kiss her bloodied hand and hold it to my cheek, knowing it is the last time I will feel her—touch her.
My heart is begging her to stay with me, but Storm’s eyes close to never open again.
Chapter Thirty Four
Ryder
Rose slowly backs away from Storm and visibly slips into shock. Her skin pales, and she trembles. Gunner appears deeply saddened for Storm’s loss but instantly becomes alarmed when he sees what I’m seeing. Rose. He and I follow her out of the tent, ready to catch her as soon as her legs give out, but they don’t.
Rose looks around at all the carnage on the ground throughout the village as I sense and feel her mind spinning out of control. Gunner’s expression is frantic as Rose bends down and picks up a black rose. Rose is unaware—or chooses to ignore—all the Warriors and Viking males following her, not daring to give her a private moment because of what just transpired, proving her life is at high risk.
She collects more roses. “Is this a sick message? A death flower?”
Not one of us can find words to explain all that we have hidden from her. She slowly turns to face us. Each and every male surrounding her looks down in shame. My poor judgment is about to explode in my face.
“What am I not being told?” Rose is no fool.
Silence.
“Tell me!”
My mouth fulfills her demand. “The Blood Clones have a king. That king believes you are to be with him.”
Her jaw drops. The realization of her true nightmare crosses her face. “That’s why I was kidnapped, not killed?” I nod with the heaviest of hearts. Rose is still trying to understand. “But they—they killed Storm. Roses—These roses are meant for me?”
I nod again.
“But—they thought Storm was me. W-Why not take her so you could rescue her?”
Rose’s heart is going to break. “They realized Storm wasn’t you.”
Her breath becomes labored. “Oh, God, no—Oh God…” Rose becomes gray, appearing ill, her eyes almost delirious. “Ryder! I caused her death!” I try to touch her, but Rose pulls away with such anger. “NO! I’m not worthy of love. I’ve done nothing to deserve your kindness! The Demons don’t bring plague,” she screams at the top her lungs, “I do!”
Rose’s heart not only bleeds for Storm’s loss, but for all the damage she feels responsible for. The heavens bleed too. It has rained for three days and nights. Rose and I sit together, quietly in our home. She is not hungry, not thirsty. Not even the fresh spring salads are tempting her. Once a day, she forces down some fruit and a glass of water. I’m not the only one worried for the baby. Gunner comes in, wet, looking at Rose with such concern. He studies Rose and me on the bed, waiting for her to see her way through this pain. There’s a leaf on her neck: all I can offer the baby for nourishment.
Silently, Gunner sits next to us, handing her a folded piece of paper. Rose just stares out the front window like she has for two and a half days. He whispers, “Open it.”
Eventually, Rose slowly does, and a picture of Wade and Louisa falls out. Rose weakly picks it up and pulls the photo to her heart. Her mother’s handwriting reads:
Rose, I love you. I believe in you.
This is not your fault, baby. It is part of an unwritten plan to saves lives. Every war has sacrifices that bring more pain than we think we can handle, but the truth is, you can handle it. This is your purpose.
I miss you more than air,
Mama
Her shoulders shake with the tears her mom’s words have caused. Rose finally speaks. “I’m sad.”
Gunner grabs her hand. “Me too.”
“I can’t help feeling responsible.”
“I would too, baby. But then I would think of Storm, what she wholeheartedly believed and what she would have wanted.”
Rose sounds tired and ashamed. “Not this?”
He kisses her head. “No, not this. Not for Rain.”
“For rain?”
“I was thinking about naming our baby Rain… in honor of Storm.”
That is beautiful, a beautiful, honorable suggestion.
Silent tears run down Rose’s face. “That is a wonderful idea.”
Two sets of eyes look at me. I smile and agree to the name that will forever remind us of the one who gave so much. And this is how Rain’s name is born: pain from the past, hope for the future. The three of us stare out the open door and watch as the rain suddenly stops falling. I think Storm approves of the name too.
When Rose finally emerges from our home, no one hounds her or mentions Storm’s name. No one repeats or shares words of sorrow. Everyone just goes about the village’s normal routine, even though I know they too are mourning. These well-thought-out actions seem to ease Rose and make her feel more comfortable with all that has transpired. I think she’s understanding that no one will point a finger and judge. We all can see what happened mere days ago is a part of destiny, a part of what is meant to be.
The Vikes, along with other elves, welcome Rose by the fire. She is quiet, but soon we are laughing and carrying on, just the way we are supposed to. That is life. We all have lost many, and they
won’t be forgotten. Storm will never be forgotten, but we will move on and give gratitude for her sacrifice so it wasn’t in vain.
Chapter Thirty Five
Rose
It’s dark. The forest is overshadowed with more than just the night. Black roses are scattered along the ground. Alone, walking through the trees, I hold my belly with my instincts on fire. The moonlight shines through trees that are trying to shield me, but some powers can penetrate anything.
When his dark figure steps around a tree, I begin to walk backward. Everything inside me wants to retreat from the beast before me. “I won’t hurt you, Rose.” His voice is deep, almost a rumble that he’s trying to soften to not scare me. “I love you,” he almost whispers.
“You don’t know me.” My knees are bent, ready to flee as my toes grip the earth for a path away from the king.
“I know you in ways no one else ever will.”
“You are mistaken. Only Ryder can be the one you speak of.”
“No!” The forest quiets with his outburst. His voice echoes for long moments.
My body jolts in fear, but I refuse to turn my back on the most deadly being ever known to man—to male. Suddenly, the once-beast now appears and sounds frightened for me. “Don’t say these things—” He stands taller, becoming evil once again. With irritation, he says, “Never mind the weaker of us.”
Firmly planted, I tell him, “I will never come to you.”
I don’t see him move, but he’s in front of me, grabbing my arms with force and frustration. Even with him leaning down to me, I have to look high to see his face. Shockingly, it isn’t as horrid as I’d imagined. In his own dark way, the king is handsome. “Then I will come to you. Either way, Rose, it is time.” Cold lips press to mine with an unwanted brutal force that could compare to no other as he sucks air from my lungs…