Read Online Out of The Woods by Patricia Bowmer - Free Book Online Page B

shaking,” he said. “Please, let me help.” His voice was gentle, his eyes soft. “At least tell me your name.”
    “Halley. My name is Halley.” Drawing on some strength deep inside her, she spoke with sudden certainly. “I won’t decide anything until morning. Not until I can see your face more clearly.” In the dark, he was all shadow, only vague hollows where his eyes should have been.
    “All right.”
    She sat still, watching him closely, speaking no more. But inside her head, she belittled herself. Get a grip Halley – he’s just trying to help . The hairs stood out on her forearms though, and she could not “get a grip” at all.
    When the torch burned out, the voice in her head spoke more urgently. Who are you Trance? Why have you come here? Something about you is deadly to me. I can feel that deep in my bones. She shifted her seat uncomfortably. But I don’t know where to go, and I’ve been lost since I fell down the hill into these woods. I’m not strong enough to get back alone. The blisters on her feet burned and her head throbbed where she’d bashed into the tree roots. She was afraid to put her hand to it, afraid she’d feel the wetness of blood. Her hunger was deepening – she needed food and water, and she didn’t know what she was going to do – she couldn’t last much longer. She longed to silence her voice, but it hummed on. Sparrow. I wish I knew what it meant to be a sparrow. I want it to mean free and able, quick to maneuver. If only Fernando had been calling me those things when he called me Sparrow…if only this man was…
    On a sudden impulse, she felt in the inner pocket of her jacket. She had an irrational urge to touch the crow’s feather, the totem she had carried to remind her of its message at the start of her journey: “You will be all right”.
    It wasn’t there.
    Swallowing hard, she began to check the rest of her pockets, already knowing she wouldn’t find it.
    In time, her exhaustion pulled at her with long boney fingers, dragging her back to sleep. It was the deep sleep of the lost, who dread awakening because they know when they do, they will find they are still powerless.
She slept. He did not. He watched and waited, knowing that when she woke, she would already be tamed. Indeed, she had been tamed the instant she’d allowed him to stay.
Always so easy with you, he thought. Your weakness is my strength. So many times I have nearly finished you. This, this is my time.

In the early morning light, he stepped outside. She followed.
    Walking several steps behind him, she noted the broadness of his shoulders. Her eyes worked their way down the back of his body, searching for clues. His jacket hugged the muscles of his upper back tightly, the fabric straining. Where his waist narrowed, it went suddenly limp. His lower body, encased in tight jeans, reminded Halley of a quarter-horse, thickly muscled, designed for short bursts of power and speed. She couldn’t see the lines of his arms or shoulders, but the way his body moved suggested strength there as well.
    There was more to his walking movement than just strength. He moved with assurance, with power. The canteen slung over his shoulder swung with each stride, back and forth, its movement mesmerizing. His stride was long, as if he were in the habit of moving quickly, perhaps impatiently. She had to half-jog every now and then just to keep up. Taking her eyes back upwards, she noticed his whitish-blond hair. It was cropped close all over, except for a small thin braid that snaked from the base of his skull. She could just see the root of the braid – the rest of it was tucked inside the collar of his shirt.
    Her leg stalled halfway down to the ground, and she had to consciously place her foot down to continue walking. The white snake braid didn’t fit. As if hearing her thought, he stopped walking and turned to her.
    His expression was hard to read, but the make-up of his face was spell-binding. The cleft in his