My Uncompleted Stories

Marks in Time

I did not miss the meaning that gleamed in his eyes. A shimmer, a flash of something deep and passionate, and then it was gone. He released my hand and stepped over a mossy log.

"This way looks interesting," he remarked, all traces of our brief exchange gone. I followed, slow in my steps, still processing the message that had flickered in his dark eyes. He loved me. He loved me? I took a deep, shaking breath. He loved me. And though he could not say it out loud, for there were listeners, I still caught every unspoken word.

He loved me. And I loved him too.

****

A rough patch of land stretched before us, strewn with rocks, and memories of trees. I stumbled over a stone, and he took my hand to help me past the rest. His fingers held tightly for a split second, and then he let go. I smiled, quiet exhilaration filling my soul. I still hadn't fully grasped it.

All of those dreams, hopes, and wishes that I had lingered over in the darkness of the night when my heart roamed, were coming true right before my eyes. All those longing glances that I had cast his way, all the skipped beats of my heart, they added up to the God-given solution of my heart-rending puzzle. Did he love me? And he did. He did! My heart stuttered again, and as if he could sense it, he looked behind himself at me.

His eyes asked, 'Are you alright?'. I gave a brief nod, realizing that I had been standing in the middle of the plain for the past few moments, my mind focused solely on the passage of time and events that had brought us together. I stepped forward, continuing the hike, and he began to walk again too.

I studied his back as he hiked over the rocks. Strong and muscular, purposeful and powerful. He stepped up and over a soft, dark grey stone, his boots scraping it and leaving very faint white marks upon it. He left pieces of himself everywhere he went. He described it as leaving his mark upon history and time, even if it was only trivial things. A carving in a tree, his friendship upon a person. I loved it. It was poetry in time. Some future person would venture out into the wilds and come upon his initials on a tree. 'Who carved this?' he'd wonder. 'What was their name? Where were they from?' And thus his mark. The person might remember the initials and bring their children to see it and wonder. And thus his mark. On and on, space and time.

I looked upwards, musing, staring at the sky, and noticed that it was growing grey and gloomy, not just because night was coming on, but because a storm had been slowly brewing all day and was just now about to burst upon us in showers of watery fireworks. "Alder? I think it's going to storm."

He stared up at the sky, and seemed to agree, for he raised a hand to halt our small party. "We've got to make it to shelter before it storms. Any ideas of where we could go?" He smirked. "Not the woods. Trees, lightning. Not a good combination. Other than that there doesn't seem to be anywhere we could go, and this plain isn't safe. Too open."

The group was silent, and my eyes wandered, searching for a place where we could go. A gap in some of the rocks caught my eye, and I stepped forward, squinting. I leaned towards the opening, and turned my flashlight on to shine it into whatever abyss lay under me. The dusty light revealed a small cave. "Alder. There's a cave."

After a brief investigation he nodded approval, and gestured for us to enter the tiny cavern. We climbed in, our packs scraping on the rough rock, bits of fabric shedding. We had each left marks. We turned on our flashlights, golden light illuminating the particles of dust that floated in the ancient air. I pulled a bag of crackers out of my pack and started munching away. The others followed suit. I chanced a look in Alder's direction, and caught him watching me. I smiled at him and he smiled back. Another exchange.

We all ate and were contented. After our long hike, any semblance of food was welcomed greatly, and was devoured in eager haste. Walking took its toll upon our stomachs. My stomach full at last, I leaned back against the wall of the cave and closed my eyes. I was exhausted. I began to drift to sleep. A small tap on my arm roused me, and I peered about for its source with sleepy eyes. Alder. He held out a small blanket that had my initials sewn into it. It was from my pack.

"You'll need a blanket," he cautioned, "It's going to get cold in here." I took the blanket, and wrapping it around my shoulders, snuggled deep into its warm, sturdy folds. Alder gave a half smile, and pulled his blanket around him. He lay down on the cold stone, and closed his eyes. I gave a brief glance around the cave, seeing that the others were well on their way to dreamland, and then I shut my eyes and fell asleep to the pattering sound of rain, and the roaring sound of thunder. My dreams were sweet.