Or, if not insane, very strange, indeed.
I crawled away from the fire on hands and knees, just the way I’d approached, and made my way back up the hill. The climb up was difficult, but I was determined and made it quickly. Once I’d crested the hill and gone down the other side a good bit, I rose to my feet and began to run.
I did not sprint as I did before, allowing myself to fall into holes and trip over stones, but I crossed the wide-open area quickly to avoid catching the attention of the sisters.
Now that I knew who wore the robes, my fear had abated. If necessary, I could outrun the older women. I just didn’t want it to come to that.
Now that I was far enough away from the fire, I could see that the full moon was bright enough to cast my shadow on the ground. It allowed me enough light by which to move safely over the ground, and to pick out an opening in the tree line up ahead.
The woods still closed around me like a coffin, sealing me in, which only encouraged me to keep moving in order to get out faster. It was too dark under the foliage to be able to tell if I recognized the path, but unlike the path I’d taken at the start of the night that had branched off in many different directions, this one seemed to be a continuous trail like the one I’d travelled a few nights before. So, I felt more and more confident with every step that I was moving in the right direction.
Then, just as I’d grown confident and, therefore, less cautious, I tripped over a large branch.
I noticed the limb just a moment before my foot connected with it, but there had been too little time for me to correct or change course. I fell over the thick branch, landing on my knee. Pain radiated up my leg to my hip, and I held my knee and rolled to my back, groaning.
The idea to scream came to me first. If I could scream loud enough and alert someone in the house to my trouble, they’d come and find me. The problem, however, was that I had no idea how far from the Wilds bonfire I currently was. There was every chance that I would alert the old women to my helpless plight before anyone in the house even realized I was missing from my bed.
While I wanted to believe the women wouldn’t actually hurt me, I didn’t know that for certain.
I tried to straighten my leg, but the moment I did, pain shot up my leg anew, and I pulled it in close to my chest. I squeezed my eyes tight against the tears burning at the backs of my eyes. If I started to cry now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop, so it was better to not start at all.
Keeping my leg pressed to my chest, I sat up on my tailbone. My head and vision swam with pain and exhaustion before clearing, but when it did clear, I looked at the branch again.
It was perfectly in the center of the path, as though it had been left there on purpose. In fact, there were drag marks coming from the right side of the trail. Stranger still, one side of the branch was perfectly cut. It wasn’t a jagged snap that had occurred naturally, but there were serrated edges left by the blade of a saw.
The branch had been cut and left, but why?
The moment the thought crossed my mind, something solid and heavy connected with the back of my skull. Pain flared in my head like a firework, and then everything went dark.
14
Sherborne raced ahead of me down the street, his long legs outpacing mine two to one.
“Wait. Sherborne, slow down,” I called, but he didn’t listen. He kept moving down the London streets, turning onto small side roads and disappearing before I’d find him again, towering over the short crowd of pedestrians around him.
I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten to London or what I was doing chasing after Sherborne, but it was imperative that I find him. I knew that much.
So, even though my legs burned with fatigue and my feet ached from the crushing pace, I lowered my head and pushed on, determined to catch up to him.
I wondered if this had something to do with my letter. Maybe it had reached him too late, and he couldn’t forgive me. Or, even worse, I’d misunderstood his original letter and my returned sentiments, however subtle, were more than he had bargained for.
What if he only wanted to be my friend? What if he only wanted to be business partners?
He’d once made it clear he wanted more than that, but that was before I’d rushed away to New York and before I’d left New York to go straight to Yorkshire, all without stopping to see him.
A lot could have changed by then.
“Sherborne, wait!”
The crowd seemed to part at the sound of my voice, and finally, I was gaining ground. With every step, I grew closer to Sherborne. Even though he never turned around at the sound of my voice, all I had to do was reach out a hand to grab him, and…
My fingers were just about to close around his coat when he spun around.
His long face seemed stretched, his chin resting on his chest unnaturally. And his eyes, usually dark, were black glimmering pools, bottomless and empty. He was Sherborne, but…not.
I backed away from him, but his hand reached out
