Wild is the Witch (38)

“My grandmother used to say that to hear the wind is to hear the earth breathe.”

Pike smiles at that and leans back on his hands, closing his eyes. “I think I would have liked your grandmother.”

I can picture it, Pike and my grandma sitting around a table, him joking around and her not taking any of his ego. It makes my heart ache thinking about how much she would have liked him.

“She would have liked you, too,” I say.

She died the year before we moved, and sometimes, in my worst moments, I’m thankful she didn’t see the mess that followed, thankful she didn’t have to pack up her lifetime of things and move across the country with us. But the truth of it is that I know she’d absolutely love it here. She would have connected with this place in her bones, and I’m devastated she couldn’t come with us.

“What was your brother’s name?” I ask quietly.

Pike doesn’t answer right away, and I think maybe he didn’t hear me above the river and wind. Then he says, “Leo.”

“I like that name.”

Pike nods, looking at the fire. “Me too.”

The air between us feels charged, and even though the wind is building to a roar, I’m completely focused on the distance separating us. It suddenly feels too vast, and when I look up from the blanket, Pike is watching me. Our eyes meet, and my mind screams at me to look away, to hide behind the wall I’m supposed to be keeping between us.

He leans toward me just slightly, and I’m mortified when I find myself doing the same, closing the distance instead of expanding it.

Then a loud crack sounds through the air, and I jolt back. I look away just in time to see a huge branch slam into my tent.

I grab the flashlight from the corner of the blanket and rush over to inspect the damage. Wind batters me from all directions, and I pull up my hood and widen my stance to keep steady. It’s so loud that I don’t hear Pike when he comes up behind me, and I jump when he speaks.

“I should have had you set up your tent in a less vulnerable place,” he says. “It was pretty exposed out here.”

“We didn’t know the storm would be this bad.” I look up at the treetops swaying back and forth, bending deeper as the gusts get stronger. “Do you think we should leave?”

“I was wondering the same thing, but hiking down the trail in the dark feels more precarious than sticking it out in one place. I think our best option is to stay put.”

“Okay,” I say, turning my attention back to my tent. “You’re probably right.”

Several of my tent poles are broken, and the nylon top is split all the way through, from corner to corner. I pull it back up and try to salvage the poles, but it doesn’t work. I can’t get the tent to stay upright, and each gust of wind blows it back down before I can make any real progress.

Pike is watching me with an amused expression on his face, which frustrates me even more.

“This isn’t funny,” I say above the wind. “My tent is completely ruined, and I have no way of fixing it.”

“It’s a little funny,” he counters.

I sigh and keep working on my tent, but it’s no use, and if I get it to stand upright just for the wind to knock it over again, I’ll probably cry.

“We do have another tent, you know.”

I look at Pike, shocked. “Are you really that prepared? You brought a backup?”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

Pike motions to his tent, and heat floods my cheeks as I realize what he’s suggesting. “Well, you’re not nearly as prepared as you thought, now are you?” I try to keep my voice calm and even, but my mind is screaming. Sharing a tent with Pike Alder is out of the question.

“Yeah, silly me, I can’t believe I forgot to bring the extra tent.”

I ignore Pike and shove everything into my pack, then pull it from the tent and haul it over to the tarp where it has a better chance of staying dry. I sit back down and lean toward the fire, trying to get warm again. Darkness has claimed the earth, banishing the twilight hours ago, and I can only see Pike by the light of the fire. Once the flames go out, I won’t be able to see him at all.

“I can sleep under the tarp,” I say.

“You’d really rather sleep out here, where there are wild animals, than have to share a tent with me?”

“Yes?” I say, but it comes out like a question. Pike set his tent up next to a rock face farther up the incline, so it isn’t as vulnerable to falling branches. I know I’d feel safer there during the storm, but I still can’t make myself move.

Pike laughs and holds out his hand to me. “Come on, Gray. Let’s get some sleep.”

I watch his hand, unsure of what to do.

I like the woods, and sleeping outside wouldn’t bother me if not for the storm. But then I think of Cassandra and the curse and how it feels as if my life is slowly coming unraveled, and I realize I don’t want to be alone.

Hesitantly, I reach out and take Pike’s hand, his fingers closing around mine.

He helps me up, then we walk to his tent. Together.





Fifteen


Pike leads the way with a flashlight and holds open the front of his tent for me to climb in. His pack is tucked in a corner with his sleeping bag stretched out on top of a folded blanket. It’s tiny, obviously meant for one person, and I sit off to the side and try to make myself as small as possible.