Living Proof

Chapter Eleven

Boromir rolled over and when he opened his eyes, a hint of panic struck. He didn't recognize his surroundings.

But then, he smiled as it came back to him. Kaia, soft and warm and beautiful, introducing him to exquisite pleasures he had no idea could even exist. He'd fallen asleep with that beautiful woman in his arms, and he had every intention of waking with her that way, every night and every morning. Quite possibly for the rest of his days.

He lay there in her bed that was only slightly more comfortable than the sofa and wondered where she was, as judging by the soft light that was still somewhat gray, it was early morning. A chill draft leaked through the sagging windowpanes. If she'd gone out to cut wood to take away that chill, he'd have words with her about that. After all, he was perfectly capable of cutting wood now. He was almost back to himself.

He listened for the sound of the floorboards creaking in the great room, in the kitchen, but all he heard was silence. And for reasons he could not explain, that silence unnerved him, for it was not a comfortable one. Not like the one that settled about them as Kaia drifted off to sleep in his arms, her head against his chest, her arm draped about his waist. That had been the silence of sated lust and comfortable companionship. He couldn't recall the last time he'd wanted to pass the night with a woman, as he normally preferred sleeping alone, but last night, all he'd wanted to do was drift off with her curved against him.

So, where was she?

He rose, his thigh nowhere near as sore as it had been. The cabin was definitely cold, and he nearly sprinted back to the great room, where his clothes lay scattered about the sofa. He dressed, half-expecting the kitchen door to open and for Kaia to come in bearing an armful of wood, so when he'd finished, and she still hadn't done so, he tugged on his boots and clumped out to the back porch.

There was no sign of her. He didn't hear her singing in the garden. Didn't see her coming around the path. Didn't hear the clatter of wood that rattled in her arms with every step.

She was gone.

His stomach twisted. "No," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back toward the cabin. "Why would she leave? Where would she go?"

Still, the knot in his gut twisted tighter and a sick feeling rose in his mouth. Bringing his hands up to curve about his mouth, he was about to shout out her name, but then it dawned on him.

What if she'd run into trouble?

He went back into the kitchen to grab his steel, then was outside once more, making his way down the path, past her garden, toward the clearing. Branches rustled and he tightened his grip on his sword, ready to remove any head from any shoulders of any man or creature that dared touch Kaia.

The clearing was empty, save for the charred remnants of the orc he'd killed.

He just stared, the knots in his gut far worse now. He turned to make his way back toward the cabin, arguing with himself even as the truth settled about him like a fine mist. Wherever she was, Kaia was not anywhere near or in the cabin. He looked both far and wide, as far as the river where the Fellowship had made camp, and to the very clearing where the Uruk-hai had attacked, were he'd leaped between them and two terrified halflings who'd had no idea what he'd done before that leap.

He went back inside and there, on the table, tucked into the bowl containing two turnips, he saw the folded piece of parchment tucked between them. His mouth dry, he plucked it from the bowl and unfolded it.

"Boromir,

"You no longer need me. You are going to be fine. I wish I could stay, but the time's come for me to move on. I never remain in one place for too long.