Winter Went | #2 Winter Series

Chapter 28

|| Josh||

He can taste salt on his tongue. It intensifies as he leaps down onto the docks, pulling Maisie behind him, who giggles slightly.

It was a short Power Travelling to the coast; the farm is only up the hill and past the fields, but he was still grateful for the quick journey all the same. If he didn't have his Power, he didn't know what he'd do. It's a part of him now, something so natural and embedded into his mind that he doesn't even have to think about it anymore.

Screw Sarah finding the cure, he thinks, but then he tempers his thoughts down because, whatever he does, his duty can't be changed.

The key rests in his pocket. He pulls it out as they walk along the pontoon, hearing the water splashing, squinting into the darkness, trying to find the right boat.

He stops by a small motorboat. Sweet Sarah, its hull reads.

Sarah is anything but sweet. But I guess she's sweet enough to let us use her boat.

He wraps his arms round Maisie's waist and lifts her into the vessel. She scurries to the far end, peering round the side.

"Don't fall in," he finds himself saying warningly as he unties the mooring and double checks the fenders are in place. "You don't want me to jump in after you, do you?"

"You fun swimming," replies the sister simply. He can't see her face in the darkness, but he can hear the smile.

He fumbles around in the dark, finds the ignition key, and yanks the outboard chain until it roars to life, making them both jump.

"Lion," says Maisie.

"Yes," he says, grabbing the tiller, and steering them around. "Lion indeed."

* * *

Maisie is laughing. She shrieks in joy as the spray comes above the two of them, spattering their faces and their clothes. He shoves the throttle forward until they're racing along at respectable knots, laughing and laughing until he can't hold his stomach any longer.

And maybe that's why the equipment seems heavier in his bag.

The island looms up in front of them. He brings the gear down a few notches until the purr of the engine is low but still piercing in the silent air.

He guides them into the port, skilfully navigating by the light of a beam alone. He sits there calmly, taking in the salty air, the dryness of his lips, the twinkling of city lights above him, the rocking and creaking of sleeping boats.

People are waiting for him at the mooring. They haul him up, and usher them away, leaving the boat to be handled with. Even though he despises the name, he'll hold good memories of Sweet Sarah.

Maisie's hand slips into his as they walk along. He finds that the warmth travels to his chest again, which is soon replaced by a stark pain. Something so great that he almost doubles in shock.

My brave boy. You'll fight with me to the end, won't you?

He's not ready.

He's not ready.

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