Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
That baby I couldn’t save didn’t even get a chance to cry before it-
And then, before I can catch my footing, one shoe skids out in front of me – I cry out as a tumble of rocks gives way beneath me, the edge of some small cliff half-hidden by the undergrowth around it.
If I had been paying attention, I might have been able to keep myself from succumbing, but as it is, all I can do is grope for one of the tree trunks nearby and attempt to keep myself upright.
"Fuck!” I cry out, my voice bouncing off the trees around me uselessly – I strain to hear the baby’s cries again, but there’s nothing, just a heavy, hopeless quiet settled around me.
As a branch slips through my hand, I tumble forward, pitching head-first over the edge of the incline. The earth spins towards me as panic tears at my chest, but it’s too late.
There’s nothing I can do.
With a thud that knocks every inch of air out of me, I hit the ground, and everything goes black.
The sound of those cries still ringing in my ears – and the weight of pain already blooming over my leg.
CHAPTER 2
Boone
"Jesus Christ."
It’s all I can think to mutter to myself when I see her, sprawled at the bottom of the sharp drop that cuts off the edge of the path.
I wouldn’t have even come this far, if I hadn’t been filling my pack with the last of the summer berries now that the cold is due to start setting in.
The weather’s already bad enough, even for November, and what survives this chill isn’t likely to make it much further...
Including her.
For a moment, I just stand there and stare. What the hell is a girl doing out this far into the woods?
Not many people would dare to come somewhere so distant, unless they had good reason. But then, judging by the state of her, I’d say she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.
Her leg is twisted painfully to one side, her head slumped over uncomfortably onto one shoulder, and I can see blood running down her bare calf.
Shit. I’d do better to just leave her there, let her get herself together when she wakes up.
God knows I’ve had enough in the way of people for a whole damn lifetime.
Ever since Anna died, I’ve done my best to steer clear of anyone at all. All those concerned faces and pats on the arm and promises that they would do what they could to help died a pretty swift death when they realized that I wasn’t going to just grit my teeth and move on.
And I doubt she’s going to be any different.
But I can hear Anna’s voice in my head, telling me that I don’t know what it’s like for a girl to be stuck out there alone. That if I leave her there, someone else might find her and have designs on her far worse than anything I could come up with.
With a grunt, I hook my satchel over my shoulder, and scramble down the side of the incline, knocking a few rocks and twigs loose as I go before I land beside her.
Reaching out, I plant the back of my hand to her cheek – she's frozen, must have been out here for hours. The wound on her leg has stopped bleeding, but the scarlet against her pale skin needs cleaning. She’ll end up with an infection if she’s not careful, and I know too damn well how quick those things can move.
Without bothering with much ceremony, I grab her and heave her over my shoulder, her limp body dangling there as I make for the path once more. I can feel the steady in and out of her breath against my shoulder, and that’s something.
Worst comes to worst, she’ll have to stay a night to get back on her feet, if whoever’s out here with her doesn’t come looking for her. I can already guess how a husband might think of me helping her like this, but if I left her in the cold, she’d be gone in a matter of hours, her body carried off into the woods by whatever animal got to her first.
And besides...as her arms swing at my chest, I can’t help but notice the scent she gives off. Not just the earthy warmth that rises from every inch of this forest, but something else. Something sweet. I breathe in a little deeper than I exactly have to as I reach my cabin, and Woodrow comes running from where he’s been waiting at the front door, a snarl already on his lips as he investigates the new arrival.
"Woah, boy," I mutter, as I push open the door and carry her in. Can’t blame him for feeling some type of way about this. He hates when I leave the cabin as it is, and normally I bring him with me to avoid his anxiety – ever since Anna, he doesn’t like being walking out of here, because he thinks they won’t come back.