The Spirit Walker (BOOK ONE): The Ripple

Chapter Nine: Rebirth

The dark blanket of night stretches out above Calum and I, the stars bright, gleaming diamonds unobstructed by city lights. The waxing crescent of the new moon provides scarcely any light, but the horses plod on with surety.

The ride is blessedly silent. Calum leaves me to my thoughts, although every so often I see his head turn to check on me.

My mouth is dry as cotton, my bones and muscles ache in the way they used to after a particularly arduous track meet. My eyelids are heavy, weighted with exhaustion.

This is real.

The pain that courses through my blood and dances through my muscles is no match for the agony in my heart.

Mama. Willow.

I will never argue with Willow over stealing my clothes, or get to style her hair on her wedding day, like we always planned. I will never again taste Mama's fried chicken or homemade pickles. She won't be there to walk me down the aisle, or hold my hand when I deliver my babies.

I will never see either of them again.

Unlike Nana, their bodies don't even exist in this strange, new world.

I don't realize that I'm crying until I taste the salt of my tears on my lips. I take in a shuddering breath, then another, trying to compose myself. It is no use. The stream of tears is unrelenting.

Calum must hear me weeping, but he keeps his own counsel, allowing me space to grieve.

By the time we reach the curved drive of Calum's estate, my tears have finally dried into crusted salt on my cheeks. My eyes are swollen, but they are clear.

Calum does not acknowledge my outburst as he helps me off the horse and hands Adaira's reins to a teenaged boy I have not seen before. However, he gently squeezes my shoulder once, in comfort.

I realize, in that moment, how much suffering he must have endured in his own life, in order to be so gracious in the face of someone else's grief.

Looking at me must be as strange and painful for him as looking at Nana- Quatie- was for me. Yet, he has never let on. He has treated me as my own person, not a reincarnation of his wife. He has never crossed any boundaries, despite how much he must have wanted to, from time to time.

I have newfound respect for his strength.

"It has been a long day," Calum murmurs as we enter the front doors- great, wooden, heavy things with images of wolves carved into the lintel. "I will have your dinner sent to your room, if you would like to be alone."

"Please," I whisper.

The smile Calum gives me doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He escorts me up the stairs and to my door- a consummate gentleman. When we reach my room, he pauses, and seems to flounder, seemingly unsure of himself.

We stand close- too close, yet strangely, not close enough. His scent is intoxicating; the pepper and pine wraps it's way around me, a blanket of warmth and safety. I feel a strange pull, as though an invisible string is drawing us together. I have the irrational urge to bury my nose into the crook of his neck and become fully enveloped by his scent.

I wonder if he feels the pull too. He sways a little on his feet, leaning towards me, before taking a full step backwards. The silence grows more awkward by the heartbeat.

"Thank you, for everything," I finally say, breaking the tension. "I know this can't be easy for you."

He dips his head in acknowledgement and slides his gaze somewhere past my shoulder. "It is... confusing," he admits. "We will learn to navigate it," he adds, a moment later.