She Awakens Page 5

  “Okay, I’ll tress up the deer into that tree over there and you set up the tent here. I don’t want you trekking through this rain and catching a cold, so we’ll have to wait it out,” he says with authority clear in his voice. There will be no second-guessing him this time. He hands me one of the smaller ropes and stalks away without a word.

  Working through the rain is miserable. Everything becomes slippery and my fingers become numb and are like ice by the time I get the rope strung up between two big, strong oaks. I fold the canvas in thirds making sure to keep one side dry. Throwing over a third of the material on top of the strung rope, I am able to make a tent-like structure with a dry canvas floor to keep us off of the freezing, wet ground.

  I crawl in and sit down, shuck off my wet shoes and socks, cross my legs, and wait. I feel like an errant child waiting to get a talking to for something she did wrong. What was I thinking? Why did I make that shot?

  I think back to when I first saw the deer running. I remember feeling excited, but not for the kill like I thought it would be. No, I was excited to provide a good meal to the townspeople. I find it strange. I haven’t ever felt like I was a real member of the community. I’ve only ever been an elder's daughter who was satisfactory at hunting.

  Today though, I wanted to provide for everyone, take care of everyone like they were my responsibility. That shocks me. When did I start to care about these people? I mean I know they’re the only people I’ve ever known my whole life but when did they become my responsibility? I think back over the past few days, what changed?

  Last night, at the meeting, I saw everyone scared and shaken. Mothers were holding their crying children, men shielding their families like they could save them from the coming danger even now. That’s when it happened, when I started to feel like these were my people. It’s why I stood up last night to calm them, and why I didn’t back down against such a boisterous man. They needed someone to be their rock, which I’d apparently decided to become.

  Then James flings open the tent flap and barges in like a bull. He’s drenched from head to toe in rain and sweat, but the odor coming off of him is still intoxicating. It’s infuriating. James doesn’t ever smell bad, the more he works, the better his aroma, like sweet cedar wood. I need to concentrate on the problem at hand, so I have to pull myself together and stop thinking of this man's scent.

  “I don’t regret killing the deer, it’s for—” but I don’t get to finish my thought. James leans in and puts his forefinger over my lips to quiet me.

  “I know why you did it, which only makes me love you more.”

  His face is so close to mine, when he speaks, his sweet breath warms my face. I can almost breathe in the essence of him. Instantly, I have an overwhelming need to make his body a part of mine, which makes me feel powerful. In this moment, James is so masculine and all I want to do is make his masculinity a part of me. All of his male traits seem exaggerated and seeing him like this makes me tingly, like a lightning strike in my body is calling out to his body.

  He leans down toward me, his big broad arms on either side of my body. His presence pushes me to lean back against the canvas. As he lumbers over me, his biceps ripple, and a growl slips out from his throat.

  “I want you,” he groans.

  I open my mouth to answer but his lips cover mine before I can utter a word. The fervor coming off of him makes me melt into his kiss. All words are forgotten. A warmth flows through my body like liquid fire and I kiss him back hard, pulling his strong, muscled body on top of mine. His weight on me is comforting. I run my hands up and down his rock hard back, feeling the muscles ripple as he explores my body.

  His fingers dig into my hips like claws claiming what’s his. I reach under his shirt gently stripping him of the soaked garment. Our mouths separate for the few seconds it takes for me to pull his shirt over his head and for the first time since we started kissing, our eyes meet. His eyes shine with passion.

  As soon as I get James’s shirt over his head, his mouth is feverishly back on mine, claiming me. His hand begins roaming under my shirt. I press my body up into his hand. He pulls away, sitting back on his knees and lifts my wet shirt over my head taking a long hungry, hard stare at my half naked body. He growls, his need growing, as his hands reach down to my pants, ripping at the buttons like a lost man clawing at his salvation.

  When I awaken, the rain has passed, and I’m left alone in the tent naked and cold. After we… I must’ve fallen asleep. Heat rises to my cheeks as I think back to what happened between us. I touch my lips and smile. A tingle of warmth resonates through me one more time. James throws open the tent door flaps. I flinch and unsuccessfully throw my arms around my body in an attempt to cover my bare body.

  “Hey, it’s clear now, we should get going.”

  I blush and nod my head in agreement. James runs his eyes freely over my body, almost hungrily. I scoff and roll my eyes. “I need to get dressed.”

  A wicked grin crosses his face. “I can wait.” My jaw drops and I lean forward, and rip close the tent sides in his face. As I dress, his annoyed voice floats into the tent.

  “Hurry up, we need the canvas to wrap the meat in.”

  As he finishes his sentence, I open the tent and walk out. “Quick enough for you?”

  All of a sudden out of seemingly nowhere fear grips me hard in my belly. I fell asleep next to James. Did any objects move while I was asleep? If they did, did he see it? Should I bring it up? No, that would be a horrible idea. If nothing happened while I was sleeping, he’ll just think I’m going crazy or something. Besides, he hasn’t brought it up yet. Objects flying around a tent would definitely be the first thing he would talk to me about when I woke up. I hope I’m just being paranoid.

  Pushing the worry in my head aside, I busy myself by breaking down the tent and using the canvas to wrap the deer meat in, strapping half of it on my back and half on James’s back. Carrying this much weight is difficult for me but I bear through it because I know a hunter needs to be able to carry at least half of what they kill.

  I’m so bogged down with all this extra weight and my body is so exhausted from what James and I did, that as we head home it takes everything I have to put one foot in front of the other. As we walk back into town the sun is fading fast and a full moon is starting to rise. I’m beat and soaked to the bone from having the wet canvas strapped to my back the whole walk home. Right as we get to the edge of town, I drop the meat off my back and sit down. My body won’t hold up to me taking one more step with an icicle frozen to my back.

  James hadn’t said much on the way back but when he sees me drop a warm smile crosses his face. He picks up my burden like it weighs nothing and says, “Why don’t you head home and get warm? You must be drained. I’ll handle this.”

  I don’t waste a second before I jump up and give James the biggest hug I can muster and thank him before I run home to my warm bed. Father is not home by the time I make it back. Perfect, I won’t have to explain my long absence. He must be talking with the other town elders about last night’s meeting. I warm up some water, take the quickest bath of my life, change into clean, dry, warm clothes, and barely make it to bed before I quickly fall fast asleep.

  6

  James

  She’s mine!

  After what just happened between us, I know she’s mine forever now.

  All of my dreams have finally come true!

  7

  Attina

  I wake up the next morning to the sounds of birds chirping and sunshine dancing across my tired eyes. It’s strange waking up in such a normal way after my whole world’s been turned upside down these past couple of days. I feel like everything I thought to be true was, in reality, a lie.

  I sit up and study my room, but it’s one of the only things that hasn’t changed; everything is still in its place. My wooden nightstand with my favorite childhood stuffed animal in the middle is still there, and my matching wooden desk across the room with my favorite cha
ir parked right next to it like usual.

  That’s when I realize it, nothing moved, which means nothing was flying around my room last night. Maybe whatever has been happening to me stopped? But why? This new development, along with everything else that has been happening in my life, leaves me more lost than ever.

  After the past few nights, I don’t know whom I can trust anymore. How had the entire town kept such a monumental secret all these years? How had my own father kept this secret from me this whole time? I never thought he would lie to me about something like this, but I guess I was wrong. Before I can even stand up out of bed, my father opens the door. Unlike his usual dignified clothes, today he is wearing dark leathers. I’ve never seen him wear this type of clothing before, so I’m intrigued.

  “Hey, pumpkin.”

  His face is expectant and there is something strange in the tone of his voice, but even after keeping such a huge secret, I’m pleasantly surprised to realize I still completely trust him. In my heart, I know he thought he was protecting me from the worry and the stress this new knowledge would cause me.

  I sit up and stare at him. I’m extremely curious what this could be about. He plops down on the foot of my bed, his face looking solemn. He takes a long, deep breath like he is trying to fortify himself for whatever he’s about to say.

  “Attina, we need to talk. You’re old enough now, and after such a world shattering town meeting you need to know some things.”

  When his words settle over me, I feel myself jerk, I don’t know if I can take any more surprises, but for him I will try. I gaze at him with questioning eyes. “I’m all ears.”

  He reaches out his hand and covers my ankle with it. His hand is warm and steady like it’s been my entire life without fail. Growing up without a mother was hard, but having his shoulder to cry on made it a little bit easier. He’s my rock, plain and simple.

  His hand tightens on my ankle for a second and then I notice he’s shaking his head, “No, pumpkin, I don’t want to do this here. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided it’s best if we have a daddy daughter camping week like we used to do when you were little. I have all my stuff packed up to go and the horses are saddled already.”

  That shakes me. My whole life he’s always asked my opinion on big things like this, and he hasn’t forced me to do anything since I’d become a teenager. My shock must be written all over my face, because after a second he says, “I know I’m throwing all this on you at once and it must seem like I’m pressing this on you, but please could you do this one thing for me? It would mean a lot to your old pops.”

  He’s perpetually been an extremely quiet, stoic person, so this plea chops down the anger swelling in my stomach before it can truly manifest. I plaster a forced smile on my face.

  “Yes, of course I will go with you.”

  I’m worried about what he could possibly have to tell me which would require such a trip. I haven’t ever seen him with this kind of worry in his eyes, but I keep my smile painted on my face anyway.

  At hearing my answer, he smiles, nods his head and walks out of my room. I get dressed quickly. It’s only the beginning of spring and still cold, so I put on some warm shoes, a warm jacket, and pack my saddle-bag full of clothes and necessities, then walk to the backyard where our horses are stabled.

  Our horses, Oak and Raven, are already tied to a hitching post behind our house. Like Father said, both horses are all saddled and packed for a long haul.

  I walk up to Oak and rest my palm on his warm neck, whispering, “Hey, old man.”

  Oak has been my horse for as long as I can remember. He is tall, buff, and a deep creamy yellow color. His mane and tail are a shiny and dark black, so black it seems to swallow up all the other colors around it. But his eyes are the most beautiful thing about him. They are full of every single color I can imagine, making them appear as if they are starlight.

  He’s the most level-headed horse I’ve ever ridden in my life. Nothing’s ever spooked him, and he’s constantly made taking care of me his first priority. Growing up, I’d been sort of a wild child, getting Oak and myself into some crazy and dangerous situations, and he always made sure we made it out together.

  Raven, on the other hand, is a different story. Raven is a younger mare and we basically grew up together. When I was born, she was a wild free spirited two-year-old. From as far back as I can remember she had a fiery, ornery personality.

  Father told me when she was younger it was like she’d refused to be tamed; he’d admired her for her fire. Father worked tirelessly for years with her and eventually, they learned to trust each other and become partners. Raven was, and is still, no horse to be submissive. She became my father’s partner because she wanted to be, and only because she wanted to be. If anyone else tried to ride her, she would buck them off as soon as their butt hit the saddle. I’d seen it myself when Nathan tried to ride her once many years ago.

  She’s the strongest willed horse I’ve ever met in my life. She is a stout, powerful, dark blood bay mare. Her color is like someone took a bucket full of blood and painted her with it. Her mane and tail are so black they almost appear blue and to top it all off she has the lightest gray eyes, which remind me of the color of fog in the early morning. She is a stunning horse to behold.

  For my Father though, she is a miracle. She has so much heart for him. I truly believe she would do anything for him. If he asked her, I know Raven would pull twice her body weight to please him.

  Once, years ago, Oak and I had been on an all-day winter trail ride, which ended with both of us falling through an iced over lake.

  After a long day of exploring, I suddenly realized it was much later than I’d thought, and we were going to be late getting home. Growing up, whenever I was late getting home, Father wouldn’t yell at me, he would talk to me, for hours. We would sit down at the dinner table and he would ask me over and over why I was late and did I know how it made him feel. He would lay out each and every scenario of what could’ve happened to me, which his worried imagination had spit out. Getting yelled at would’ve been much easier to deal with, there was no way I was going to be late coming home, so I hatched an insane plan.

  On our ride that morning, Oak and I had gone the long way around a frozen lake; it had taken a few hours to go around it, which was fine. We'd had all day to do it at the time, but the way back home was a different story. The sun was setting, and we needed to make it back home before dark unless I wanted to go through one of those famous talks. So, I decided we would just try to skirt around the lake.

  The worst part was the lake was at the bottom of a sheer rock cliff, so there weren’t many options on how to get past it, only by traversing a narrow trail between the cliff and lake. We started on the trail and made it halfway around the lake before it happened. The trail eroded under our combined weight and we tumbled down to the lake, the thin ice giving way.

  It was the single most terrifying moment of my life. The frigid water was lapping over my head. Somehow, I was able to find Oak in the freezing water and grab back onto his saddle. As soon as he felt my weight back on top of him, he got his feet under him and was able to pull us out of the ice, and in some kind of miracle, he was able to shoot up the side of the cliff. Something no normal horse should have been physically capable of doing after a fall like that.

  Once we topped the precipice, he took off like a shot towards home. He raced all the way home pushing his frozen body to its max. When we made it to my back door, I was able to fall off of Oak and drag myself to the back door. I remember Oak loudly whinnying and then nothing. When I woke up again, I was laying in front of our lit fireplace where Father must have carried me.

  I could have died that day, but Oak took care of me. Needless to say, I trust him with my life.

  Father didn’t tell me our horses were Fae horses until after the fateful day in the frozen lake. Up until then, the horses were not allowed to talk around me, but afterwards, Father thought it better to finally tell me
the truth. Growing up, the only horses I was ever exposed to were Oak and Raven, so I didn’t realize there was something different about them.

  They of course listened to my physical commands, but also listened to my vocal commands. They rarely spooked and never bucked with me on their backs. I barely remember when my father first mentioned the horses talking. It was right after Father found me freezing and as he was warming me up, he kept mumbling to himself over and over, "I should have just told her..."

  When I woke from my coma later in the night, or what I thought was a coma, the first words out of my mouth were, “What should you have told me?”

  By now I was in bed, and Father was sitting at my bedside. His hair was a mess, probably from dragging his hands through it throughout the night. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, or lack of sleep, I’m not sure. At the sound of my voice, his head turned to me, and I could see he had a dreadful expression on his face, his eyebrows are drawn, and his lips pursed, like he’d seen a ghost.

  “I should’ve told you the horses could talk. I was wrong to think you were too young and couldn’t keep a secret, but maybe if I had told you, then Oak could have talked you out of taking such a risky shortcut and could have prevented this accident.”

  I was floored. Father went on to tell me Oak and Raven were Fae horses and they could talk and had a few other powers. That was all I would get out of him though. He smiled and told me I would find out all I wanted to know later, and rubbed my head, told me I needed rest, and put me to bed. I was exhausted, so I didn’t fight him on it, and we didn’t really ever talk about it again.

  My father had been the one to tell me about our Fae horses and I trusted him implicitly, so there hadn’t been a need for more talk on the subject. I also knew anything associated with the Fae wouldn’t be seen in a favorable light in town, so I knew this was something not to be spoken of with others, not even James.