Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (21 page)

With some assistance, I return to the hut for a rest. My body is in over-drive, trying to quick-heal the bones, and the cot looks close to heaven right now. I fall asleep with my head filled with the plans and details we’ll need to tackle while we’re here.

I wake up disoriented, for some reason with images of something like a rodeo lingering in my mind, and sense I’m not alone. With an echo of movement still reverberating through my body, I turn my head and find myself eye to eye with a retriever-sized red-orange tiger.

“Hey, there, Storm.”

Chapter Seventeen: Safe Passage

(OLIVIA)

I
HAVE THIS THEORY
that it’s pointless to live in constant fear of the ‘what-ifs’ in life because then you’re not living at all. You’re worrying. And worry doesn’t change anything; it only stresses you out before you even get a chance to deal with whatever the problem is in the first place. Sometimes you just need to let things ride. Instead of spending energy worrying about Sliders and traitors, I focus on this kid, Tabina.

The girl officially won me over by demonstrating her skill and determination in her game of “Fip.” While I stand, she holds both my hands and walks up my legs and stomach, flipping herself backwards and landing on the floor with both feet. Laughing, she exclaims, “Tab fip! More! More Tab fip!” And we repeat until we’re both laughing so hard we heap together on the ground. I swear she’s a mountain goat reborn; the girl climbs anything she can and some she shouldn’t.

The whole “guardin” angel thing is worrisome though. If it’s her Sight coming through, I hope her mom was right and I’d fulfilled my guardian duties with my body slam upon our arrival. It’d kill me if something happened to her. The girl’s been stuck to my side since that first tackle. In fact, I’ve been using her wriggly little body during work outs, which I’ve been doing to help keep busy. I’ve got a couple good bruises from trying to run with a squealing and unbalanced ankle weight.

I stink at sitting around and waiting; I’ve been spending most of my time helping Derrick in the fields and goofing off for the benefit of Ethan who’s been ultra-moody. He does not like being forced to take it easy. I’ve heard before that an irritable patient is a healing patient, so he’s got to be feeling better. Like, a
lot
better. He may have been well enough to leave a few days in, but since I’m not a Healer I’m erring on the side of caution. With a deep injury like his, he has to allow for all the inner layers of skin and tissue to bind, even though the outside appears fine. There will be no infections on my watch. Now, if I were Jamie, on the other hand, I’d be able to tell if it’s healed solely by the touch or something. Jamie’s an amazingly brilliant kid trained for this kind of situation. God, I need my brothers with me. I really miss them.

Luckily, Tab provides the distraction we need.

She has found her first true love and practically bats her eyes at Ethan while tugging at his pant leg. “Pweese be mine horsey?”

He can’t help himself. With a smitten grin, he drops to all fours and gives a very impressive horsey whinny. Reminds me of Thunder, in fact. Tab climbs aboard as I melt into a puddle of goo. Catching my soppy expression, Ethan bares his teeth at me before loping off into the sunset. A
macho
horsey, I correct myself as I thoughtfully watch his backside sway away from me.

~~~

W
E’D JUST FINISHED
an amazing roast chicken dinner, prepared by Ethan who’s been stockpiling all sorts of foods for the Keyes in order to keep himself busy. I’m helping Lispeth clean up the mess in the kitchen. Since Ethan cooked the meal, we’d banned him from helping us with the scrubbing. Instead, he’s sitting in the front room talking about fields and grains with Derrick. There’s something about hearing the rise and fall of their deep voices that soothes me, lulling me into a safe bubble where life feels kind of normal and homey. Lispeth hands me a wet plate to wipe dry and it slips through my fingers, shattering loudly against the wooden floor. The sound snaps something in my brain. It’s been too quiet.

I glance around the room, my senses thrumming. “Where is she? Where’s Tab?!” I cry out, my skin now positively tingling.

Jumping back from the scattered stoneware shards, Lispeth eyes me in alarm. “Why, she’s right here.”

But she’s not.

Shoist. I let my gut pull me and I race through the house, slamming out the back half-door, allowing myself to feel the tug and go with it. The sun has begun to set earlier in the evening, but it’s still light enough outside, and the well-house is easy to see. It’s like something from Snow White. Built with stacked, rounded rocks and a miniature peaked roof, the well has a crank and bucket and a wooden slab, which covers the opening for safety. I can clearly see the little figure standing on the well’s covering, reaching on tiptoe into a small corner of a low cross beam.

Running, I call, “Tabina, get down from there!” But the crack of splitting wood obscures my voice, and her sweet form drops from view.

Ah, shoist.

Hollers and footfalls follow behind me; I focus on nothing but the panicked cry and hollow splash. Perching on the ledge of the well, I stare at the remainder of the broken lid, splintered across the hole. I can’t jump straight in because I could land on her, and she wouldn’t be able to grab onto the bucket if I drop it; she’s two. Cripes, think! She’d been standing on the far side, so I shove away the rest of the cover and slide my body down, holding onto the near side of the ledge.

Trying to hug the wall with my belly, I let go. What little light I had soon fades to complete darkness. My arms scrape the rough rock before I hit the cold water, sinking deep before I can reverse my momentum and kick back up to the surface.

On my ascent, I brush against something solid, and I grab tight. An arm. I readjust my grip on the little girl and break through the water gasping for air, my head bumping into a piece of wood, which had fallen with Tab. I tread water one armed, holding her face above the surface. She feels limp; a minute or two have passed from when I saw her fall. My teeth chatter in the cold.

Please, let me have been quick enough. Please.

“I’ve got her!” I try to holler, but my voice is shaky, so I try again. “I’ve got her!”

Ethan’s voice echoes down to us “Bucket incoming! Hold tight; we’ll get you up.”

With a muted whirring of rope, the wooden bucket splashes down next to us. I grab the thick wet cord and grip it with both hands and legs, holding Tab in a body hug as they jerk us up, inch by bloody inch. “Faster!” I scream inside my head, but I know this is as fast as it gets. Schlurping out of the water, my body feels insanely heavy; we jolt and jerk up to where there’s light and then we’re above the wall altogether. Hands reach for us, and Derrick pulls Tab out of my grip and places her on her back on the ground, listening for a heartbeat, ready to pump life back into her if it’s needed.

On her own, Tab turns her head, coughs, and spits up fluid. Derrick rolls her to the side and rubs at her back, murmuring softly. Oh, gads. My body begins to shake so hard I can’t stand anymore and I start to fold to the ground. I don’t make it. Strong arms catch me from behind and turn me around, and I breathe in the scent that is Ethan. A trace of citrus, warm and calming. Secure. He holds me close, pressing his forehead against my own and lowers both of us to the ground, where I curl into his lap and let myself fall apart. Someone, most likely Lispeth, drapes a blanket over me. Ethan tucks it around my wet form, and I can feel the rumble of the words in his chest but can’t make out any meaning. His chin dips down, my head cradled fully, and I hear it.

“You scared me there,” he whispers hoarsely, echoing my own words from earlier. “And don’t worry about Tab. She’s fine. You got to her in time. She’ll be okay.” Since I am still not calm, he stops talking and simply holds me.

Despite his comforting touch, I can’t stop shaking. It’s my fault. And she’s two. That’s all I can think: She’s only two. I repeat it to myself until I feel a small tug on my blanket. I lift my head. Tab is standing there, dried and wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, eyes a little swollen, cheeks a little blotchy from her own crying. But safe. And here. She’s scraped on her side; nothing serious. I raise my blanket and she scoots in on top of my lap. And the three of us sit like that until Derrick clears his throat and Lispeth suggests we go in and get warm.

That night while they’re tucking Tab into bed, Lispeth calls me down to the bedroom.

I pull at Ethan’s arm and we walk down the hallway together. It’s a snug room, charming with a pocket-sized arched window, stars painted on the blue ceiling, a mini wooden bed and large rocking chair, all in the soft glow of flickering lantern light. Her parents are both kneeling at her side, and Tab is positively happy and dimpled, swinging her feet off the bedside.

Tabina thoroughly scrutinizes all of us. “You all go bye. Wan’ mine angel.” And she shoos everyone else from the room.

“What is it, baby bug?” I ask, settling on the floor next to her bed.

“I gotted mine tweasure for you.”

I picture her standing on the well lid and reaching up, and I understand. “Treasure? Is that what you were doing up on the well?” I ask in surprise. “Getting your treasure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, baby girl, that was dangerous. You should keep your treasures somewhere safer from now on. Like under your bed. Okay?”

“But dis is for
you
,” she pouts and her eyes flash with hurt.

Realizing I’d said the wrong thing, I smile to show my appreciation and hold out my hand. On my palm, she places a wadded bundle, which includes some yarn, a couple of buttons, and a scrap of black gauzy material. She must have been clenching it in her little fist the entire time she was down in the well and then through everything that followed. I’m surprised that she could. And from her solemn face, I can tell this is important to her.

I am sincere in my response. “Oh, thank you, bug! That’s sweet of you. I’ll keep it all safe for you; I’ll put it in my pack.”

She nods formally, reaching her arms around my neck, and I kiss her goodnight and send her parents back to her.

We leave the following morning, with lots of hugs and kisses and a few tears. I try to keep it to a minimum; don’t want to alarm the kid. Ethan just shakes his head at me, but I notice he squeezes Tab extra tight as they say goodbye. The day is cool and the sky’s a cloudy gray at the edges, but the road is as dusty as it had been. We are dressed in Dweller clothes to help us blend in a little more with the region; our spider clothes are in my pack along with Tab’s treasures. Her parents had been shocked to hear what Tab had been doing before she fell; they’d had no idea she’d been storing stuff in the corner of the well’s beam. They never blamed me once, but I feel twisted inside. I am not safe to be around.

To stop myself from grabbing Ethan’s hand, I fidget with my necklace as we walk. His presence is very reassuring, like our current reality is more believable with him living through it with me. This whole ‘Seeking’ bit leans pretty close to the woo-woo side of gut-instinct, what with all the “opening of the mind” and “sensing the currents” and all. Definitely not for the pragmatic sort, which, had he not been taken in by a horse, left on a magical mountain, and then thrown into a whole sub-world, I’m sure Ethan would be.

It helps me feel like I’m making some kind of sense when he supports my choices even if he doesn’t know why I’m making them. Heck, half the time
I
don’t know why I’m making them. Yeah, I understand he kind of has to support my choices no matter what. I guess it really shouldn’t mean anything. But, whatever. It still helps.

As we walk along, I feel the first sprinkling of rain, light and misty; the kind that makes my hair frizz. It feels refreshing, though, so I tip my head back and let it wet my face.

“Fall will be here soon,” muses Ethan. “Hope it doesn’t get too cold where we’re heading.”

“Hey, maybe we’ll be done by then. Have some faith. We’re making progress; I can feel it.” I smile up at him and he grins back, just two kids walking in the rain.

Before long we’re soaked to the skin and slogging through about two inches of mud.

More little lanes are connecting to the muddy strip we’re navigating, and creaking wagons and nickering horses begin to make their way past us. No one offers a ride, but that’s a good thing, since we’re trying not to be too noticeable. The rain stops right as we hit the cobbled paving of the main street. It figures. I wipe my face with a soggy sleeve and manage to smear around some of the water. Well, at least we’re extra clean now.

Covered stalls are set up everywhere, for blocks, and tons of people are all around. I see fresh fruits and veggies, baked goods, linens, pottery, chickens, handcrafted toys, tools, weapons. Someone’s playing music that makes me want to spin and stomp and clap. This is the fairytale I’d expected to find in the Shadows: living, breathing, joyful humanity. This is what we’re here to preserve. On all levels.

Ethan grips my hand and starts weaving us through the crowds. My pulse quickens, but not from the physical contact. I’ve noticed it, too. There had been one consistency as we made our way through the square. A very tall, broad shouldered, dark haired consistency. The smallest glimpse of him makes me feel closed in, claustrophobic. Like I want to crawl out of my skin, or let myself shrink down into it and shrivel up like a dead husk.