Page 78 of Solivagant

In the back of my head, the pain was increasing again. A dull ache, but it was rapidly building with every step I took.

Just a little further.

I could see the deer.

I could catch her.

I could help him.

The pain increased. I groaned.

So close.

My vision blurred. The forest doubled. I stumbled.

Why? Why now?

Everything looked strange. A twig and a tree shared the same space. The rush of water over stone increased to a roar. I was seeing things in two ways, as they were currently, and as they’d been. A memory?

I wiped a dampness from my nose on the back of my hand. It came away red.

I should have turned back. Whatever was happening to me probably had something to do with why he didn’t want me coming this way. But like I were no longer in control of my body, I kept walking anyway. The path felt familiar. Significant.

The deer ran off again, but I couldn’t bring myself to stray from the path to follow her.

Where am I going?

Our place. Our special place.

My stomach flipped. The hunger didn’t help, but this felt bigger than that. The blurred vision increased the nausea, but I had to keep going.

Everything was doubled. I saw it now; I saw it then. Until I spotted something up ahead. Something that hadn’t been there in the past. I was sure of it.

It was a structure of some sort. Crudely built from stone and chunks of rubble into a dome.

This is our spot.

The headache increased. My palms grew clammy as I got closer. I tasted more red.

There was more here than stone and brick. In the tiny cracks between them, was a soft glowing gold.

Flowers.

He’d built some sort of storehouse for them.

My shaking fingers reached for the stone. There were so many in there. I could bring them to him. There were enough to heal all his injuries and so much more. I wouldn’t have to worry about him ever being injured again.

The stone gave way, and I let it tumble to my feet as I reached for the next one.

Why had he kept these from me?

39

JOSIAH

With every rock and brick I tossed aside, more gold poured out. There were hundreds of flowers. Some bright and almost blinding, others a dull glow. They were all different. Some big, some small. But all of them could help him.

If he had these the whole time, why hadn’t he come for them when he’d healed enough to move?