Chapter 11: An Unlikely Savior

His scent wavered at the river. Willow bent down, digging her hands into the mud, and lifted it to his face. Thankfully, he had decided to not cross. It would have surely killed him. These were glacial fed rivers, numbing the skin within seconds of contact.

He went west. She rinsed her hand and quickly dried it on her pants, stuffing it back inside the gloves she had grabbed as she left her house. This was a furious storm. Thunder echoed miles away, crashing against the mountains that separated them from the next valley. The river was rising, swollen and angry. Torrents of rain continued falling down.

She could barely make out his footprints along a drier patch of mud that was slightly sheltered by an overhang of shale. She paused her herself, breathing in his deep, woody scent. He had trailed his hand along here, keeping himself steady. Her heart thrummed. She would find him alive. He had to be.

The next part of this trail was the worst, it hugged the side of the cliff with no room to turn around until the top. It was a favorite of the more experienced hikers because it sprawled out onto a large grassy crag that had amazing views of the Laughing Peaks mountain range. She had only ventured up there a few times.

Taking a deep breath, she began up the treacherous and narrow path, his scent her anchor. It took her over an hour of slow climbing to traverse the rocky route. She didn’t dare look down, knowing if she did, she would lose her nerve. Her foot hit a loose piece of gravel and she lost her footing, her heart sailed into her throat. She clung to an outcropping of rock and steadied herself. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she careened off the side of a cliff.

Squinting her eyes, she could barely make out anything ahead of her. The fog from the rain had thickened to where she felt as if she were a specter, haunting the moors of some tragic English love story. She guessed that she only had a few more minutes before she reached The Tree, a large oak that grew on the side of the cliff, defying gravity. Once she climbed over that, she was off the ledge.

Her hands felt bark before she saw it. Taking a deep breath, she hauled herself onto the slippery tree, praying that she didn’t tumble to her death. If Garin was still alive when she reached the top, she might kill him herself, if she survived.

Her feet touched spongy moss. She knew she had made it. Her legs trembling slightly, she walked the short path to the field, as the locals called it. It was just a large open grassy area on the edge of the cliff. There was a short way to walk from the other side, where enormous oaks grew. It was a weird area. Her grandmother said fairies had created it. It was the only way the trees grew here.

She felt as if she were in the fae wild as the mists swirled around her feet. She looked around but didn’t see him. How? His scent was so strong here…unless. She stared at the edge of the cliff, which was currently shrouded in fog. If he didn’t see the edge and just kept walking…

She ran, screaming his name. Laying on her stomach, she looked over the edge, but it was all gray. She felt the tears climbing up her throat.

“No,” she said, merely a whisper.

Coughing brought her attention over her shoulder. A rock under the tree.no it was a person, curled up.

“Garin!” she yelled and ran towards him, slipping slightly on the wet grass. He was blue and shaking so badly she was worried he was convulsing. His body was pressed against the tree as if sapping its energy. He looked weakly up at her and smiled.

“You’re here…but that can’t be. I’m lost. I must be dead. This isn’t so bad,” he reached up and caressed one of her wet locks that had escaped her knot.

“You’re not dead yet. Give me second,” She quickly erected the tent between two trees and unrolled the sleeping bags and blankets she had brought with her. “Come on, we need to get you out of those wet clothes,” she commanded.

“Now I know I’m dead,” he laughed, his handsome face lolling back. She groaned and rolled her eyes, hauling his large frame to standing. He stumbled and she caught him, their chests pressed together. His eyes cleared a bit as he gazed down at her. His scent was so strong she felt drunk on the amber waves.

“You’re really here,” he whispered and ran a finger down her cheek.

“Yes, and if we don’t get you warm and dry you really will be dead. Now take off your clothes and get into a sleeping bag,” she helped him to the entrance of the tent, and he collapsed in. A moment later he called out,

“Now what?”

“Are you in a sleeping bag?”

“Y-y-yes,” his teeth were chattering again. She pulled open the flap of the tent and zipped it behind her, slightly dulling the sound of the raindrops. He was completely tucked inside one of the sleeping bags, only his head poking out.

“I’m still so cold,” he said each word as if it were painful.

“I would imagine so. Hold on,” she replied and pulled off her own boots and coat, tossing them into the far corner. Her shirt and pants were still soaked.

“Close your eyes,” she said to him and he did so. With a quick peek she changed into the sweatpants and hoodie she had brought for herself. “Okay,” she said, climbing into the sleeping bag next to him. His eyes widened; his pupils huge.

“Sle-e-e-ping together on the fir-r-rs-s-st date?” he joked. “You c-c-could have a l-l-least bought me dinner first.”

“Shush, I’m trying to keep you from getting hypothermia. Unzip and come closer. I’ll give you my body warmth. I can’t start a fire yet,” she said and scooted closer to him. He did as she said, and she pressed her back against his chest. He paused and then wrapped his large arms around her.

She hoped he didn’t notice how her heart was galloping. She was hyper-aware of the hard curvatures of his body pressed against her own. Reaching towards her pack, she tugged out an emergency blanket, settling it over them.

His breathing slowed as his body warmed.

“Garin?” she whispered.

“Hmm?” he replied, drifting to sleep. She turned to check his color and his lips were but a hairsbreadth away from hers. She gulped and she stared at them. He opened one eye and looked at her.

“Going to take advantage of me in my weakened state?” he teased, and she flushed a deep crimson.

“I was making sure you were no longer blue,” she retorted and turned back around, deeply embarrassed.

“Mmmhmm,” he whispered into her hair and pulled her closer before he fell into sleep.

She knew she should probably get up and do…something. Anything other than lie here in her arms but she didn’t want to. She told herself it was to keep him warm, but it was something else. Everywhere his body touched hers, flickers of electricity raced against her skin.

Instead, she would stay nestled against him, his unlikely savior.