Marysvale (24 page)

Never once dozing off during the night,
and exhausted from lack of sleep and travel, Jane half fell out of
the saddle. Instantly, I leapt down and caught her. She was very
light. I wanted to hold her longer, she felt good in my arms; but
Hannah eyed me both with curiosity and suspicion. I wasn’t sure if
it was because I was holding her sister, or because I moved so
quickly. Either way, it made me uncomfortable. I set Jane on her
feet, took out a blanket, laid it flat, and insisted she lie down.
She did so, too weary to argue. Hannah looked tired as well. Though
she had occasionally drifted off during the night, it couldn’t have
been restful. I ordered her to lie next to her already sleeping
sister.

She protested and offered to help with
the horses, but I assured her it would give me something to do
while keeping watch. Thanking me, she curled up next to Jane, and I
covered them both with the remaining blankets.

After tending to the horses, I walked
to the top of a small hill where I could see in all directions
while keeping guard. As I watched the sleeping girls, I thought
about all that had happened and how strange it all seemed. To be
traveling to a town held hostage by mythical creatures just didn’t
feel real, and my mind didn’t want to believe it. I would have been
happy to disregard it all as pure fantasy, except for the nagging
fact that I found myself in the middle of it, and with a scar to
prove it. My emotions screamed at me to get away from this place,
take Smoke with all his speed, and run without looking back. But as
strongly as I desired that, a greater part of me felt drawn to
reclaim the peace that had been taken from this beautiful place. I
also knew I could never leave the three people who, in such a short
time, had so completely won my heart. For hours, my mind wandered
through the conversations I’d had with Sarah and what I knew about
Marysvale; but mostly, I just thought about Jane.

Growing stiff from sitting, I got up
and stretched. Studying my surroundings more carefully, I felt a
jolt go through my body…I had been here before. This place, the
trees, the hills, it was all familiar to me. I had seen it in my
dream, I was sure of it.

It’s here,
I thought.
I
know it.

I searched around and soon found the
path from my dream. It was overgrown, but the remains were still
visible. Tepidly, I followed it, afraid of where it could lead, but
driven to find out. The tree where Jane had waited for me stood off
to the left. Her ghostly image burned into my mind. The path
twisted and wandered over a hill and out of sight. Slowly, drawn by
some inner force, I followed it. My pulse quickened. The forest
felt still, the air thick. Except for the rustling of ferns and
undergrowth, everything was silent. As I progressed, the woods grew
more dense. Despite the raining debris of autumn leaves, tall trees
and a thick canopy of foliage blocked out the sun. Only a trickle
of light filtered through the small gaps.

Through one last thicket, I emerged at
my destination.

Shadows fell and enshrouded the
hollowed, blackened remains of the cabin that had plagued my sleep.
Burnt timbers rose out of the ground. The porch and front of the
cabin were mostly still intact, but sagging from age and weather.
Windows were shattered; vines and moss now covered the ruins. A
dingy rope swing hung from a branch that had grown around the
intruder over the years.

As in my dream, I crept up the stairs
and onto the porch, though this time, I was more afraid of falling
through the rickety floorboards than being discovered. No door
remained—only rusty iron hinges that hung limply from the frame.
Peering in, I was greeted with the pungent smell of damp and
rotting wood. In the darkness, I could make out a stone fireplace
in the center of the house, but not much else. I gingerly retreated
and made my way to the back of the cabin. Stepping over large,
charred logs, which littered the ground all around, I discovered
that the fire had completely consumed this part of the structure. I
located the kitchen, or where it had been. Under a thick layer of
dirt, leaves, and twigs stood a small, black iron stove.

The memory of that heinous end flooded
back to me in vivid detail. I scarcely dared to breathe in this
hallowed place, fearful to disturb the slumbering images. Finally,
with nothing left to see, I sat for a long while under the tree
that still held my rope swing. I stared at what was left of the
cabin—a broken home to fit with my broken memories.

A rustling of foliage caught my
attention, and I turned to meet whatever fate greeted me. It was my
best friend, Jane, here, in the tomb of a shattered life—a poignant
reminder of what I’d lost. The emotions that had been locked away,
hidden in the mysteries of my mind, hit me like a destructive force
of nature. They tore my soul to pieces and flowed freely down my
cheeks.

Jane sat down next to me, deep concern
etched in her face.

Finally, when I could utter the words,
I spoke, “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“
No,” she said
softly.

“
Do you remember the last
thing I said to you?”

She nodded slowly and said, “Yes. For a
long time after it happened, I thought it was my fault—that sharing
your secret had somehow caused it.”

“
No,” I protested. “You did
the right thing. I was the coward and you were brave. If there is
blame, it is on my shoulders. ”

“
Neither of us is to blame.
The fault is with those that committed the massacre.”

“
I’m so very sorry for what
I said, for those last words spoken so long ago. I wanted to tell
you then, but…Oh, Jane, will you forgive me? ” Tears sprang to my
eyes once more and my body heaved in regret.

Her own cheeks now moist, Jane cradled
my face in her warm hands and turned it, so I could stare into
those amazingly deep and beautiful green eyes.

“
We were only children,” she
said softly. “Of course I forgive you. Many who depart under such
circumstances never get a chance to repair the damage done. I’m
glad we have that chance now.”

She slipped her hand into mine, and we
sat without speaking for a long time.

Hesitantly, unsure if it was all right
to break the silence, she finally asked, “How much do you
remember?”

I told her about the dream.

“
That day, everything
changed for a lot of us: my mother was also killed, as were many
other good people.”

“
I’m so sorry,” I
said.

“
I’m sorry for you. I’ve had
years to grieve. After all this time, you are just learning what
happened. Why do you suppose you didn’t remember before
now?”

I thought a moment before replying, “I
think maybe the trauma from seeing it all ensue, along with hitting
my head, may have caused me to forget.”

“
Sarah returned and buried
your mother and grandmother,” she said. “We couldn’t find you or
your father. We had hoped you survived, but never knew for
sure.”

“
My father told me that my
mother died from an illness. Why do you think he said that?” I
asked questioningly.

I wasn’t angry at him—I loved him very
much; but I was curious why he hid the truth.

“
I don’t know,” she replied
thoughtfully. “Perhaps, since you didn’t remember, it was easier
not to make you relive it again. Possibly, he wanted to wait for
the right time, or until you got older.”

“
Why didn’t Sarah tell me
all this? Or you? After all, we shared everything—no
secrets.”

She smiled. “That’s right, you
remember. I wanted to tell you, but Sarah made me promise that I
wouldn’t. She thought that since you didn’t remember anything it
would work to your advantage and ours.”

“
How would that help me?” I
asked somewhat dubiously.

“
She thought that since you
didn’t know anything, it might be safer for you in town. You were
so young then, and she didn’t think you’d ever been to Marysvale;
or if you had, it’s been enough years that she doubted anyone will
recognize you.”

“
And why would that
matter?”

She looked hopefully at me. “Because we
don’t know who we can trust; and we think you know something that
might be the key as to why all this happened.”

“
I can’t think of what that
would be,” I said, searching my mind. “There’s still a lot I don’t
remember.”

“
You said, that day in the
forest, that you had a secret and that people would get hurt if you
told. We think that may have had something to do with the
attacks.”

Vague images floated back to me, but
nothing solid.

“
Do you remember something?”
she asked, reading the expression on my face.

“
Not much, only some
obscured figures. It’s hard to tell what’s dream and what’s reality
now, they seem to blend.”

“
Tell me about what you
think you remember,” she prompted. “Perhaps I can help.”

“
There were cloaked people.
They had a Brean with them.” I shook my head and rubbed my temples,
as if that would help coax the memories back to life.

Jane looked eager. “Is there anything
more?”

“
It’s all so vague, I’m not
even sure about that. I can’t remember, Jane. I’m
sorry.”

She sighed and patted my hand. “There’s
nothing to be sorry about.”

Sitting side by side, we stared at the
burnt-out cabin. A soft, crisp autumn breeze began to stir through
the trees, rustling drying leaves and swaying tall, slender pines,
which creaked and moaned, disrupting our silence.

I took Jane’s hand in mine and our
fingers intertwined. She looked at me and I leaned toward her a
little. She didn’t pull away, and, almost imperceptibly, leaned
ever so slightly towards me. Those green, wide eyes magically
beckoned me forward. I resisted the temptation to throw all caution
to the wind and snatch her up into a tight hug and smother her with
passionate kisses, but just barely. We drew closer, mere inches
from one another. My eyes closed, heart racing, and my breathing
slowed. Time stood still—even the woods seemed to collectively hold
its breath.

A crash came from behind us. Jane
jumped from the noise. I grabbed a branch and leapt to my feet,
just in time to see Hannah emerging from the underbrush, leading
the three horses.

I silently cursed Hannah. When I wanted
her awake, she sleeps; and now that I wanted her to stay asleep,
she wakes.

“
Brilliant timing,” I
muttered.

Jane heard and she looked at me through
the corners of her eyes. A sly, mischievous grin spread across her
beautiful face.

“
Phew, it took me forever to
find you! I woke up and you were gone. So, I packed the horses and
followed your tracks.”

“
You mean you followed the
big arrow I drew in the ground for you,” said Jane.

“
Oh, is that what that was,”
she said dismissively. “It’s cold. Can we start a fire?”

“
No,” said Jane.

“
Why not?”

She sighed, “Because the smell of a
campfire can be carried for some distance. Besides, it’s time we
get moving.”

“
Can we at least
eat?”

Jane agreed to that.

Hannah, noticing the cabin for the
first time, asked, “What is this place?”

Jane replied quickly, before I could,
“We don’t know; it’s just a burned-out cabin.”

“
Oh.”

“
Why don’t you find us
something to eat, Hannah?” suggested Jane.

Hannah looked suspicious, but said,
“All right.”

She went over to the packhorse and
started fishing around, but she kept an eye on us and probably both
ears.

Jane whispered in my ear, “Don’t tell
her anything.”

“
Why?”

“
She doesn’t know about you,
and it’s safer for her to remain that way.”

“
What are you saying?”
demanded Hannah.

“
Nothing,” replied
Jane.

“
Yes, you are. Whenever you
say nothing, it’s something.”

“
You’re right,” I said. “It
is something; but we’re still not going to tell you.” I took my
hand and slid it subtly into Jane’s.

The movement wasn’t lost on Hannah. She
furrowed her brow and eyed us for a moment. Then she giggled,
blushed, and went back to her task. We ate, packed up, and were on
our way.

“
Why is camping outside
Marysvale suicide?” I asked.

Jane looked confused by the question.
“Excuse me?”

“
It’s something Sarah said
before we left—she said it would be suicide to camp outside
Marysvale. Why is that?”

“
Oh, that.” She pondered for
a moment. “I suppose for her, it’s doubly dangerous. For one, the
closer we get to Marysvale, the more Brean there are. The beasts
are drawn to the town.”

“
And the other
reason?”

“
These days, people go
missing if they disagree with the town leadership. I think they
would like to be rid of her for good, if given the
opportunity.”