Wild Light

Chapter 1

As I leapt through the air, I relished the breeze tangling through my hair, around my bare arms and waist. I tilted my head back and twirled, taking wide, leaping steps and simply enjoying the grass under my feet and the bare sky above me. I kicked my leg high and dropped, knees striking the ground, before turning and tangling my legs under me. Untwisting, I planted my foot to stand slowly, gracefully, toe dragging, head high; eyes on the endless horizon, the strength of the mountain at my back.

I glanced at the sun nearing the last quarter of its arc and realized the time. I scurried to where I had cast my boots and slipped them on, pulling the laces to tie a messy bow. I shoved my hoodie over my tangled hair rather unceremoniously as I dragged now leaden feet to my four-wheeler just a bit away, weighed down by clunky boots. I started the engine and let it rumble, warming up between my legs so I could twist my long hair into a matted bun on top of my head. I shifted out of neutral quickly and sped down the grade, weaving over and between ruts and large stones expertly. I know this mountain like I know my scars; wholly and completely.

I finally reached the road just off Price Gulch after crossing the stream twice and darting under the aspen at the base of the Grade. If I didn't kick my speed up a notch on the county road, I'd be dead at the hand of a very angry mother. I was supposed to help her make dinner tonight; we (apparently) had company coming.

I was glad I had brought a lighter sweatshirt this time. Last week I had practically boiled on the way home. The headwind I'd been riding into hadn't been enough to cool me off. I loved summer but I also loved the cool spells and rains that spring brought. The shorter days annoyed me, limiting my energy expense. I was looking forward to staying up late reading or weaving in my window with the late golden sun as my light, calming my mind with repetitive hands.

Though tonight I'd enjoy the company of our longtime friends and neighbors, I was particularly intrigued by the news that they were bringing their nephew, who was staying with them. He was supposedly 17 and tall. Katy didn't offer any other details.

I greeted my mother as soon as I walked through the rattling wood door. "Hey, I'll be there in a sec, just gotta get my boots off."

"Okay, take time your time." That was sarcasm. She was definitely a little ticked.

I dove into cooking, moving through the kitchen with my mother in graceful coordinated arcs, subconsciously avoiding her eyes.

"Did you at least have fun?" she asked quietly.

I affirmed my happiness and continued.

I grew up in this kitchen with my mom and dad. We know each other's movements in this dance that is creation.

As I was chopping peppers for a salad, mom humming in the background, I felt a presence near me. Not malicious, and not my mother's. Just a presence. But this is common in a building that has stood in 2 locations and has housed many before my grandparents passed it to us.

Still, this presence was unusually strong. The persistent feeling that I wasn't alone with my mom in the room disturbed my human instincts. I furtively glanced up from slicing peppers and, as I expected, nobody new was in sight, but I still felt I was being watched, and didn't like it.

Mom continued humming happily.

I slid my board to the end of the counter that butted against the wall and angled myself to watch the room as I finished slicing the last bell pepper. I turned around and grabbed the box of strawberries. As I slid over to the sink, I felt the presence disappear and was able to relax some, but the tension lingered in my shoulders involuntarily. This was a spirit I hadn't encountered before, and I didn't like it.