I walked for an hour or so, enjoying the fresh air in my lungs, the whisper of the foliage moving in the breeze, and the sound of bird cries in the trees above. I called out here and there just for the hell of it, but there was no answer in return. My legs began to cramp, and I started to wonder if I really was crazy. What was I doing wandering through the woods looking for a vision that may or may not really exist? Suddenly I felt like a complete idiot. The excitement I'd woken with turned into sour foolishness. And I felt like shit physically, too. My body was achy and twitchy and I needed a couple pills. In my hopefulness that morning, I hadn't even thought to bring a few with me. I sat down on a rock and took out my water bottle, taking a long drink. I was cold and my T-shirt hardly provided enough warmth in the cool air of the forest, too dense where I was to allow for any sunshine. "For fuck's sake," I muttered.
I sat there quietly for a couple more minutes, gathering the strength to get up and turn back around. I'd been moving uphill, and I knew all I had to do was go back downhill to find my way out. Taking another drink, my eyes moved around the forest in front of me, my gaze caught by what looked like a small animal lying at the base of a tree. Frowning, I stood up and moved closer. A rabbit, it looked like. I knelt down and looked more closely. Its eyes were open and glassy and ants covered its bloody, matted fur. I whipped my head up, suddenly feeling . . . watched. It felt as if a clutter of spiders had scurried down my spine. I jerked to a standing position, turning around in a circle. The woods suddenly seemed oddly silent, the quiet oppressive, wrong. Walking backward, I moved slowly away from the dead rabbit, going back the way I'd come.
My shoulders relaxed slightly when I entered an area I'd walked through only ten minutes before—a grassy glade filled with warm sunshine, only a few trees dotting the mostly open area. But I immediately tensed again when I heard a high-pitched squealing, calling to mind some kind of wailing banshee. Drawing in a sharp breath, I ducked behind the nearest tree, pinning my back to it, my heart drumming in my ears. Shit, shit, shit.
Peeking out, I spotted the animal that was making the terrible shriek—it was a wild boar. And it appeared to be caught somehow, or possibly injured. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I leaned back against the tree and took in a big lungful of air. I almost laughed at myself. Get your shit together, Holden. It's a fucking pig.
Still, I'd be wise to move on. I didn't have a weapon and wild animals of any size could be dangerous. Hadn't the king on Game of Thrones been speared by a wild boar while hunting? Come to think of it, it wasn't the worst way to go: something very manly about it actually. Much better than being found in your own vomit on some bathroom floor, which would more likely be my end the way I was going.
Suddenly, the pig let out another high-pitched squeal, turning toward where I stood as if it had somehow sensed me. It doubled its efforts at struggling and wailing. I could see now that its leg was trapped somehow. It squealed and grunted fiercely, trying in vain to free itself. I was hit by a sudden head rush and leaned back against the tree, panting for air. Suddenly a bird came swooping out of the sky, barely missing my face. I felt the feathery brush of its wings as I yelped and fell forward, my heart rate spiking sharply when I saw that the pig was free and charging straight toward me. I scrabbled backward in the dirt and pine needles, letting out a deep yell, finally pulling myself to my feet.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, my manic mind chanted. Fear arced through me as I pulled myself to my feet, turned and ran, tripping and sliding back down the hill, my thoughts pooling together in disjointed alarm, my stomach at risk of spewing its contents at any minute. My whole body was shaking. I'd never been so fucking terrified.
By the time I reached the lodge an hour later, I was breathing normally, and feeling like a complete and utter pussy. What kind of coward was I? Is that what a big, strong quarterback did? Weak, weak, weak. Not strong enough . . . Some far back corner of my mind screamed before I shut it down. I groaned. Sudden, intense nausea caused me to stop and draw in long breaths of air so I wouldn't lose the contents of my stomach. The headache was coming back again.
Weak, weak, weak.
No, it was okay. I just needed to get my thoughts in order, and the pills would help me do that. Maybe just one to take the edge off.
I imagined what I must have looked like running from that wild pig through the woods, and almost felt sorry for the paparazzi for missing that shot. Hysterical laughter bubbled up my chest. I was seized by it so violently I lay on the grass and literally rolled with hilarity. I stopped almost as quickly as I'd started, the laughter dying a quick death on my lips. Jesus . . . Jesus. Somebody save me.
CHAPTER THREE
Lily
I dragged the brush through my damp hair, angling my head toward the fireplace to help it dry more quickly.
I ran my hand up the bare skin of my leg, thinking about the girls I'd seen at the lodge at the edge of the woods—the ones who wore the tiny swimsuits and danced to loud music on the deck. I wondered what it'd feel like to be that comfortable in my own skin. I'd been too curious and leaned out too far. One of them had spotted me and they had all started shrieking and screaming and slipping on the deck as they clamored out of the hot tub and ran inside.
I'd wanted to laugh out loud, but I hadn't.
Then several men had come to the edge of the woods with flashlights. I'd just watched them from behind a spruce tree. I hadn't even had to work to hide.
Staring unseeing into the leaping flames of the fire, I wondered again about the man. He'd almost gotten himself speared by a pig today. If that low-flying bird hadn't caught his attention, he wouldn't have even known the pig was running right at him. I pressed my lips together, untangling a knot at the end of my hair.