Foresworn (12 page)

“I don’t think that had anything to do with what was in the greenhouse, Mom.”

I realized we’d been running around so much, we’d never told her about Branton. In fact, we’d never even discussed Branton.

Then I actually
saw
Branton as he ran toward the vehicles. It shouldn’t have been so dark out yet, but clouds filled the sky in a thick wall that obliterated light. The fire lit up the area so well; his streaked hair was perfectly visible as he jumped into the SUV where we’d stored most of the backpacks. I grabbed Arun’s arm and pointed. “You don’t have time to explain. He’s getting away with a bunch of the supplies.”

Arun took off toward the cars, digging in his pockets. “I don’t have any keys on me!” he yelled as he stopped in the middle of the snowmobiles.

I patted my pocket and nearly shouted in triumph when I pulled out my keys. “I’ve got mine! Come on!”

We climbed into my Jeep and I shot out after Branton, snow spewing from either side of the vehicle because I hadn’t moved it since I’d arrived and the stuff had piled up around the tires. The whole thing shook as I forced it over the snow.

“Have you ever driven in this kind of weather before?” Arun asked, wincing as he braced his arms on the dashboard.

“Nope!” I pressed my foot on the gas harder and swerved when a short tree suddenly appeared in my headlights.

“I suppose it would insult you if I offered to drive?”

“Yes and no.” I grunted when I went sailing over a snowbank, swerved and managed to get control of the Jeep.

“You do realize I don’t know how to respond to that, right?”

“Shh! I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Kat, seriously. We should pull over and let me go after him. I’ve grown up driving in these kinds of conditions. It’s not like I don’t think you’re perfectly capable, but if he gets away with all those supplies, we’re screwed.”

He was right. I knew it. Stubborn pride had me keeping my foot on the gas, but I pulled over and jumped out of the Jeep. He did the same and grinned at me as we passed by the hood.

When he took off after Branton, the ride went a little more smoothly—and a lot faster—and I pushed back my bruised ego. “Where do you think he’s going?” I asked when we reached the main road.

Arun squinted left then right before he took a sharp right. The Jeep swerved on the slippery road, but Arun righted it quickly. “He’s headed to Yellowstone.”

“Now? Should we go without the others?”

“I’m just going after him to get the backpacks.” He sped up.

I hurriedly put on my seat belt and resisted the urge to close my eyes as we seemed to fly down the snow-covered road. “Not many have been driving this way,” I said as I eyed the sides of the road. “There aren’t even any piles built up. Don’t they send out plows or trucks with snow things on the front?”

“Snow things?” He released a short, sharp grin that faded quickly into the tight-lipped anger of earlier. “Yeah, but these are unusual circumstances. Nobody knows how to handle this snow right now. Not even those of us who’ve grown up around this. With the storms lately, people are just huddling in their homes.”

“And yet, here we are racing down a highway covered in snow, chasing a pyromaniac.”

He slammed his hand on the wheel. “I can’t believe I’ve spent my entire life with him and didn’t know. He’s never showed any signs of having a power. He seemed a little jealous of mine a few times over the years, but I keep thinking back and remembering little things now. Like the way he loved setting paper on fire in his trash cans. I’m even remembering bigger things. His first home burned down. I remember his mother telling mine the story. They barely got out of the house alive.”

“He’s obviously been hiding this from you. It’s not your fault.”

“But I never felt anything from him.”

“You told me it only happens the first day or so, so you probably did and don’t even remember it.”

“There he is!” Arun sped up, but Branton must have realized he was being followed because he did, too.

I kept my eyes open even when we slid around one curve that had a drop-off to our left. Shivering, I turned up the heat, then twisted to see if I’d left any blankets in the Jeep, but I hadn’t. We’d used them all after the first fire. Luckily, we’d grabbed our coats. My throat felt scratchy, my chest tight. I could only hope it was from inhaling the smoke.

“If I can stick to Branton’s butt, we’ll have access to the backpacking supplies and we’ll be fine.” Arun said as if he’d read my mind. He slowed.

“What are you doing? I thought we had to stick to his butt?”

“This drive is too dangerous to take at these speeds. If Branton doesn’t crash, I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going. There’s an old patrol cabin we used to hike to. He always ran off there when he was angry with his mom.”

“Why would he go there? Won’t he realize you’ll know?”

“I think he wanted me to follow him. He’s always wanted me to follow him, was always running off to hide in this place.”

“He said you two have always been best friends. That was all on his part, wasn’t it?”

Arun nodded, his mouth twisting. “I care about him and he’s my friend, but he’s never been a best friend. There were just too many things over the years. Problems. He does dumb shit. Steals, lies about stuff. I knew he had emotional issues, knew he never got over his dad leaving them.”

“Yet you’ve always followed him to this cabin when he’s upset. Stayed with him.”

“Yeah, I’m a pushover.” He squinted at something ahead of us, then swerved onto the right side of the road.

I followed his gaze, saw some kind of huge lump in the snow. As we passed, I caught a hoofed foot out of the corner of my eyes. It stuck up from that pile of snow. Poor thing had just frozen there like that. “That’s not how I see it. You’ve been a good friend, and this whole time he’s been dishonest.”

“Maybe not. He could be like the others who didn’t know.”

“He seems to have control over his fire power,” I muttered, then grimaced. “I’m sorry. That was a lousy thing to say. This has to be killing you.”

“Yeah, it is. We might have had problems over the years, but I still considered him a friend. And his mother is my mother’s best friend. He helped me put together those packs. Went with me to buy the tents and everything else whenever we could. Jealous or not, I never would have expected him to turn on me like this. Turn on us all. I just can’t understand what happened.” He suddenly leaned over the dash, slowed the Jeep even more. “He slowed again. I know they’ve closed the road up here, so he has to stop.”

“Or drive off-road,” I muttered as Branton drove off the side of the road. “He’s completely crazy to try that. Snow is covering everything—he’ll hit something.”

“Think Branton and clear thought is a thing of the past at this point. Plus, something isn’t right. There should be more snow.”

The bit of light coming through the clouds reflected off the snow enough to light up the area to the right of the east entrance building. Arun was right—it looked as though someone had driven a plow through there. “Whatever did this mowed down trees, too. There’s a new path.”

“He has to know I’m still behind him.” Arun said quietly. “Has to know he’s not getting away.”

“Or maybe he has help close by.”

“He’s back on the road. This is nuts. Even with the barriers on the side of the road, there are places he could just go over. All it would take is one slick spot.”

“It’s all a slick spot.” I stared at Arun, barely able to make him out in the dark. “Should we keep going?”

He turned to me. “You want to stop now?”

“No, we need the backpacks. You’re right, we can’t all go into Yellowstone unprepared.”

“Kind of like we are now?”

“What do you mean? There’s a pack in the back, remember? Why’d you do that, anyway?”

“Weird hunch.” He glanced at me quickly before looking at the road. “Or maybe I wanted to know you’d be covered in an emergency.”

I didn’t say anything, kind of stunned over the fluttering again that didn’t in the least make me want to frown. I frowned instead at the sack on the floorboard, then lifted it up. I’d forgotten about the stuff I’d bought at that truck stop. “We have canned chicken, crackers and hopefully peanut butter that hasn’t turned into a grease slick. We won’t starve, anyway.”

It was slow going. At times, we drove down the center of mountains, with steep inclines leading up on either side. We went around curves that had me holding my breath—but Arun took things slow. I’d never been so glad someone else was driving. He did know what he was doing in this mess.

At some point, we lost sight of Branton ahead of us, but Arun didn’t seem worried because this was the only way in.

When Arun stopped the vehicle and frowned, I looked at the road and saw the tracks that led off it entirely. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t take your Jeep that direction.” His fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard there was a squeaking noise. “I screwed up. Should have checked your gas.”

“There’s not enough to get back, is there?” I looked at the gauge, my heart clenching when I saw what was left. “I should have filled up before I went to your place.”

He stared into the dark—in the direction his friend had disappeared. “He’s not going to the patrol cabin. I don’t know where he went, and we can’t follow. Our only option is to take your Jeep further west and then hike to the cabin.” He turned to me. “Are you up for it?”

“I don’t see where I have a choice.” I dug around under the seat for the extra gloves I’d stashed and snagged them with a finger. “Is it far to the cabin?”

He nodded and moonlight shone on his expression. Worry. “This isn’t going to be easy, Kat.”

“Like anything ever is.”

Chapter Ten

We ended up walking through a forest of burned trees. They stood tall around us, in every direction. Silent sentinels without even branches to lure birds. A dead forest that showed it had just started life again with the small bushes of green near the tops of some of the trees. Of course, that green was mostly white with snow right then.

I felt a bit of a kinship with them. They’d survived—some, anyway—something I knew in my heart was my fate.

It was eerily quiet. The only sounds the crunch of our boots in the snow and the labored efforts of our lungs dealing with this cold while on the move. Puffs of our breath shot from our mouths; the moonlight made them sparkle in the darkness.

Arun stayed quiet, and I knew he was worrying about the backpacks. And his friend. He had grabbed a white coat and with the large white backpack, he looked like a huge yeti making a path through the snow for me.

It was easier to get through the snow without talking because it took every bit of energy my body produced to keep going. The wind howled and dug sharp fingers under every piece of clothing I had on. The temperature had dropped, my cheeks stung and, without my scarf, the cold air had started to feel like a thick ice pick stabbing into my lungs.

I don’t know how long we walked, but I started to slow. Some of the snow had blown into tall drifts, and every now and then Arun would zigzag around them—always keeping me in his sight—even when he moved ahead, he glanced over his shoulder often.

Out of the darker edges of the forest, a lone wolf howl raised all the hair on the back of my neck. I stopped; my heart, which was already racing from effort, threatened to stop altogether.

Another wolf joined the first. Then another. Soon, a chorus of howls seemed to fill the forest all around us.

Arun looked over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. They shouldn’t come close.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, so I glanced around for any trees that actually looked sturdy enough for a climb. Most of the ones we passed were so long and thin, they’d probably just bend if we put our weight up high. We’d be like treats on a stick as we were lowered toward the wolves’ open jaws.

I smirked.

My brain had had enough of this cold.

“I’ve been up here a lot and the wolves never bothered me before,” Arun said.

The muscles in my legs were quivering and growing weak. “Not sure I could get away from them if they did. I can’t feel my feet,” I said on a long exhale that made me wince and clutch my coat in front of my chest. That ice pick had thickened into a pole. Even my norn seemed frozen into silence.

“It’s not that much farther—maybe another fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes sounded like a lifetime. I lumbered behind him, then to the right a little, which turned out to be a bad idea because I fell over something buried in the snow. I went face-first into a snowbank. I expected to get instantly colder, but for some reason, the snow smashed into my face and creeping up under my coat didn’t bother me so much.

Not walking was so much nicer than walking at this point.

“You okay?” Arun knelt next to me and helped me out of the snow. He took off a glove and brushed the snow off my face. “You’ve stopped shivering. That’s bad. Come on. We gotta hurry.”

But we didn’t walk faster. I doubted he had any more energy than I did. He never put his glove back on and, instead, wrapped his fingers around my wrist between my own glove and my coat sleeve. That tiny bit of warmth actually hurt.

“There it is!” he said suddenly.

I looked up to find a small log cabin with a tall stack of firewood piled up against the front by the door. No place had ever looked more welcome.

“There’s no smoke coming out of the chimney, so nobody’s using it. Not that it would matter. Everyone shares when we come upon these places.”

I didn’t answer. It was all I could do to walk the last few steps through the huge snowbanks around the cabin. The wind must have carried more snow here because my next step sent me waist-high in it.

“Hold on, Kat.” He trudged through, tossed his backpack next to the front door and came back. “The extra strength comes in handy once in a while.” He turned, hefted me onto his back and carried me to the door, setting me on my feet once he opened it.

Just being out of the wind sent a wave of relief over me. I took in the woodstove with a small stack of wood next to it and the small bunk built into the wall. There were two wooden chairs. That was it. Simple and sweet. And sooo damned welcome.

“Shoul we be ‘n here?” I could barely get the words past the chattering of my teeth. “Gods, I’ve neve...bee...so col.”

“Shit. You’re slurring.” Arun picked up his backpack and put it on the bunk. “Strip.”

“Huh?” I lifted an eyebrow. At least, I thought I did. It might have been both.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stay in your underwear—if it’s dry. And put this on.” He handed me a dry T-shirt and a pair of shorts. “Sorry about the shorts. I was hoping this pack had long johns. I’m going to start the stove, warm it up in here. You get in the sleeping bag.” He spread the bag out on the small bed.

“Bossy,” I managed to get past the teeth.

He turned and put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re slurring and your lips are blue. We have to warm you up fast, so just listen to me, okay? I’m getting in the sleeping bag with you.”

He was so warm before, just the thought made my knees sag. “Okay.”

“No arguments this time, huh?”

We’d shared a tent already and he thought I’d have trouble with this? I remembered how warm he was. I would have told him all this but couldn’t seem to form my words enough to get them out of my mouth.

“I’ll go outside to get wood more wood. That bit won’t be enough. Plus, that’ll give you time to change.” He moved one of the chairs in front of the wood stove. “Drape your wet clothes over this.” He opened the door and I started shaking again when the wind swept into the cabin. Snow powdered everything before he pulled the door shut.

Getting my coat off took longer than I expected. I was shaking too hard. But that was good—I remembered that. Of course, slurring was bad.

I pulled off my sweater and my shoes, but left my red turtleneck on because only the neck was a little damp. I pulled the T-shirt on over it and smiled when I saw it nearly reached my knees. The basketball shorts were ridiculously big, and I had to bunch them in a fist. When I crawled into the sleeping bag, my hand brushed my lower leg and I gasped at the numb, icy feel of my skin. I curled into a ball on my side and watched as Arun came back inside with an armful of wood. He got the fire going fast, pulled off his wet clothes right in front of me and draped them over the other chair. His body was built long and strong with broad shoulders and slim hips. When he turned, I saw he had those intriguing hip muscles some guys had and I kind of wanted to touch. I realized I was staring and closed my eyes. I listened to the rustle of clothes as he pulled some out of the pack and hopefully put them on.

“Can you sit up? If we can get some warm liquids down you, that will warm you up faster.”

Shivers had returned, so I shook like crazy as I sat up and tried to maneuver the sleeping bag to go around my shoulders.

Arun pulled a small metal pan from the backpack and poured water from a bottle into it before setting the pan on a burner on top of the woodstove. “Chamomile it is. We have black tea, but I think caffeine isn’t a good idea.”

It didn’t take long for steam to show over the pan. Arun shivered as he stood in front of the stove in shorts and a T-shirt.

“Why don’t you get under the cover with me?” My teeth chattered with each word.

“I will. I don’t want to get cozy, then have to get back up immediately. The cabin should warm fast.” He pulled a tin cup from the pack, poured the tea and brought it to me.

“I’ll have to lie back down for both of us to fit.”

“In a minute. Drink this first. I didn’t let it boil, so it won’t be that flavorful. We’re after the warmth of the liquid more than anything.”

“Thanks.” I was so glad to see my hands had stopped shaking. The first sip hurt my throat, but the second soothed. “This is good.”

He built up the fire while I finished the tea, then came back to the bed.

I lifted the top of the bag quickly because I couldn’t bear to let out any of the minuscule amount of heat I’d managed to gather.

He crawled inside and turned on his side to prop his head up on his hand. He slid his leg forward, pressed it to mine.

I sucked in a breath, jerked my legs back.

“We’ll warm up faster if we touch.”

He was right about that. His body heat alone inside the bag upped the temperature instantly. “You feel like fire, and I’m sure touching me was like jumping naked into the snow.”

The small bed shook as he laughed. “I’ll live, but how about we just let our combined heat build under here, huh? I’m glad you’re not slurring your words anymore.”

“Me, too.” I laid my head on my arm. “I was scared out there,” I whispered.

“Anyone would be scared with all this going on. I’m really worried about the others. Hope they found shelter tonight. The temperature has dropped, and from the feel in the air, I think more storms are going to come through.”

“What about the wolves we heard? It sounded like a lot of them.”

“There are several big packs in the area, and they’ve been growing since the wolves were reintroduced here.” He shifted, his leg brushing mine. He still felt like a furnace. “I backpack through here a lot and have heard them before. It did sound like there were more than usual—like the packs had combined.”

“That’s not normal, right?”

“No, not in the least.” He rested his head on his arms as I had.

As if they knew we were talking about them, the wolves started howling again. I shivered. The sound was both eerie and beautiful at the same time.

“We’re safe in here. The wolves can’t get in.”

“It’s not wolves that scare me right now. It’s the elves.”

“Hopefully, they’re smart enough to be in some kind of shelter in this.”

The wind had picked up—sounded like it was hurling snow at the sides of the cabin.

“It’s warming in here. I’m glad you knew about this place.” My stomach abruptly growled. I slid one hand down to cover it—as if that would muffle the noise.

“If you’re comfortable enough, I’ll get up and put together some food. All the backpacks have dehydrated food packs. Some are even pretty good.”

“Let’s warm up longer first.”

I expected to feel awkward, and I kind of did. But just a little. We’d shared a sleeping bag already. I’d slept with my head against him. It felt different this time, though, and I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was the way his eyes glittered in the dim light of the fire, or the way he seemed to purposely lie still to make me stay relaxed. He was truly a nice guy. Much more deserving of a nice girl instead of one who chewed on tough resentment-jerky for breakfast. “Please tell me you have some really bad habit.”

He grinned, then laughed. “I have plenty.”

“I don’t believe you. Share.”

“Why? What if I’m hoping to impress you?”

I narrowed my eyes.

That only made him laugh harder, causing his blond curls to flop over his eyes. He brushed them back. “I forget to clip my toenails.”

I rolled my eyes. “Lame.”

“My last girlfriend said I have selective deafness.”

“Still lame. I’ve been told that, too. Give me something really awful.”

His mouth turned down, and he stared at me for a few long seconds. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend—not to that girlfriend, anyway. We had zero in common and only got together because we...”

When he trailed off, I looked closer. “Are you blushing?” Amused, I rested my cheek on my hand, noticing as I did that the inside of the sleeping bag had grown wonderfully warm. “What? You guys hooked up after knowing each other minutes? Thought you had something and learned you didn’t?”

“Pretty much. I’m not real proud of how I handled any of it.” He sighed. “Stop grinning like that. It’s creepy.”

I snorted. “That’s a new adjective for me.” My stomach growled. “Let’s get the food now.”

“I’d rather you stayed in the sleeping bag for a little longer. You’re not slurring and shaking anymore, but your lips are still a little bluish. Besides, all I’m going to do is boil water and add it to the packs. We can eat right out of them.”

I watched as he crawled out of the sleeping bag and set up the water in the small saucepan on top of the woodstove again.

“It is nicer with you in this thing. Must be great to put out that much heat.” I propped up my arm and rested my head on my hand. “Why do you have all those packs, anyway? I peeked in one and it looks like you guys were preparing everyone for a long time in the park.”

“We were. We never knew how much would be needed or how long all this would take, but we certainly didn’t expect this sort of speed. The escalation of disasters is a huge surprise.”

“That freeze-dried food is expensive. So is this sleeping bag. I’ve camped my whole life and never had anything like this.” I touched the sleeping bag. “How did you do all this? Was your mother rich?”

“No.” He bent to grab more wood and put it into the stove. “This has taken years and lots of scrimping to make happen. We’d buy what we could every year, and once the greenhouses started really producing, it got easier. That’s what my mother cared mostly about. She worried about the three-year winter—how scarce food could become. The backpacks were my idea. I hike all the time and was actually out in the woods when the idea came to me. I’ve just always known this would be where everyone gathered.”

I pushed the sleeping bag down a bit because I was actually starting to feel a little too warm. “My entire life my mother told me the stories and I have this norn who tells me the future. Why didn’t she tell me about this part of it?”

“Maybe she has. Her way of sharing seems pretty cryptic.”

“Yeah, most of her favorite things to share involve me and fire.”

He frowned. “She’s been right about that.” His stomach growled louder than mine had.