Page 30 of A Land So Wide

G reer took off in a sprint and raced across the empty field bordering Steward House.

“Hessel!” Michael Morag called, shouting into the building. “She’s running!”

Greer laughed at the sounds of confused commotion as Hessel began issuing orders and Stewards and grooms alike hurried to grab their coats and gloves.

They stumbled out of Steward House like a pack of hunting dogs set loose on a fox, baying and howling, hungering for another chase, nearly salivating with cruel excitement.

Greer only dared to glance over her shoulder once, and spotted Louise and Norah cheering her on as the men ran her way. Louise jumped into Lachlan’s path, waylaying him as he tried to duck around her.

At the far edge of the field, Greer slipped into a line of tall grasses and made a sharp turn, hoping her pursuers would be too distracted with the thrill of another hunt to notice her change of direction.

She wove through tangled thickets and brambled copses, pulled toward the Hunting Grounds like a fish on a hook.

Louise’s pack was along the perimeter’s fence, mostly obscured by a pile of leaves.

The dark canvas bag was full of pockets and straps.

Greer pulled it free and hefted it onto her shoulders.

It was lighter than she’d hoped, but she had no time to take an inventory of what Louise had rustled up.

She’d sort through it later, once she was over the border, once the sun had set and she was no longer being followed.

For now, she slipped through the gate and headed toward the meadow and the Warding Stone she’d watched Ellis pass yesterday.

The air was filled with the sounds of the Hunters. They spread out, breaking into smaller groups. The woods slowed them down, as they combed through the underbrush, scanned twisting thickets, and peered with discerning eyes into the canopy for branches sturdy enough for a girl to climb.

Greer fought back a snort of laughter at their unimaginative assumptions. She wouldn’t run from the Joining Ceremony only to hide away like a cowering sparrow. She was escaping. She was breaking the hold Mistaken had on her, had had on them all since the day they were born.

The meadow was up ahead.

The easiest way through would be straight across, but the space was wide open, with no tall grasses or shrubs to hide in.

She’d be spotted the moment she stepped out into the field, so she took the long way around, stopping every so often to pause or double back, trying to cover and obscure her trail as best as she could.

She heard Hessel’s puffed breaths as he fought his way through the mire of dried creeping vines, the twisting grasps of wisteria stretching along the forest floor like the wires of a poacher’s snare.

He’d ventured into the woods with several other Stewards and barked out occasional orders, snapping and biting, his fury evident.

Greer had no doubt she’d be able to avoid her father’s furious blustering.

But Lachlan Davis…

Try as she might, Greer could not pick out his footfalls from the others combing through the woods.

She knew he was an experienced hunter, celebrated each season for his sharp skills, his sly methods.

He always brought back the biggest bucks, the most pheasants or rabbits or beaver.

His family’s larders were full of salted fish, of smoked jerkies.

She could not afford to underestimate him.

The sky was heavy and dark when she reached the northern edge of the meadow and finally dared to enter the open space, cutting toward Ellis’s point of departure.

She expected to feel a marked difference as she slipped by the Warding Stone.

There was always a catch as one left Mistaken, a slight tug as if the border was calling them back, trying to lay its claim.

This was felt deep in the bones, a poking at the marrow, a prodding sensation that you were going the wrong way, leaving the safety of the known.

But, wearing the necklace, Greer didn’t feel a thing.

She went into the dark woods five yards, ten, then twenty, and though she knew sunset was quickly approaching, falling unseen behind a bank of steel-gray snow clouds, her heart didn’t quicken with fear.

There was no anxiety, no worry. She was not scared of being in these woods.

She was not fearful of the night to come.

Ellis’s trail was easy to spot in this virgin wood. His heavy boots had left clear marks in the soft ground, and every so often there were snapped twigs in the brush, signs that he’d pushed his way through.

As she went on, the terrain grew rougher, rocky and steep, and after a few minutes spent fighting her way up the angled slope, Greer was panting, her dress warm and damp beneath the thick wool of her cloak.

“What in the Devil’s blazes are you doing, Greer?”

She startled at the sound of his voice, as shocking as a gunshot. Lachlan.

“It’s nearly sunset—you’re going to get us killed,” he went on, climbing the embankment as easily as if it were level ground.

Greer kept her eyes low. Ellis’s footprints were harder to spot here, and she needed to concentrate. “Go home, Lachlan.”

“Not without you,” he said, picking up his pace until he was on her heels. He reached out and grabbed at her cloak. “We need to hurry if we’re going to get across the border before Thirds.”

“You do,” she agreed, struggling to wrest herself free of his grasp. “You should. You still have time to turn back. Just go, Lachlan, please, before you get hurt.”

He let out a laugh of disbelief. “You’ll be tossed back, too.”

“I won’t,” she promised. She didn’t have the breath to explain.

“Damn it, Greer.” His fingers dug into the underside of her forearm, so hard that Greer could already feel bruises beginning to form. “You’re going to get us killed, you stupid girl,” he snarled, tugging at her.

“I’m going after Ellis. Save yourself while you still have time.”

His molars ground together as he fought to pull her back, back from the hill, across the border, and down the aisle.

“Come on,” he snapped and grabbed at her waist. Even with Louise’s pack and her heavy winter clothes, Lachlan was able to hoist her over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a cask of ale, a sack of flour, a lamb on its way to slaughter.

“Let me go!” she ordered, all but screaming as she thrashed against him, kicking out and striking his chest.

“You’ve already made me a laughingstock. All winter, I’ll hear how my bride raced off for the wilds rather than join me on our wedding day. I’m not walking away from this empty-handed.”

“I’m not your bride,” Greer protested, flexing and squirming and doing everything she could to make Lachlan realize she was not worth the effort. If only she could get free of him. If only her feet were on the ground. She’d drop the rucksack and run.

Sunset couldn’t be far off now.

He let out a cry as her knee struck his clavicle. Off balance, his equilibrium thrown, he staggered, careening back toward the ground, taking her with him.

They landed hard, in a heap. Greer scrambled to free herself from under his heavy weight.

“Stop running!” Lachlan demanded. He rolled atop her so that she was pinned in place, unable to flee, unable to fight as he pressed into her ribs and the jut of her hip bones.

“Everyone warned me. They said I was making a mistake, setting my sights on Mackenzie’s mad bitch of a daughter, but I didn’t listen.

I thought I knew better. I thought your father’s riches would be worth it. ”

He seized hold of her leg, fingers clamped around her ankle as tight as a vise, and began dragging her down the slope.

She twisted, trying to flip to her stomach to protect her head.

Lachlan was hauling her down without regard for any rocks or underbrush.

She grabbed at anything she could in an attempt to stop him.

His hand came out of nowhere and fell across her cheek with a heavy slap. “You’re going to be worth it. I’m going to make all this worth it.”

Greer blinked, seeing stars. She’d never been hit before, not in childhood horseplay, not in a schoolyard tussle, not even in the dangerous moments of Hessel’s darkest anger. That she had now, by this brute of a boy she was trying to help, made her want to howl.

Fiery anger kindled in the pit of her stomach, smoldering and sharp. It licked its way up her spine, crackling with such an intense, heated pressure that she bared her teeth, loosened her jaw, and let her rage rip its way into the world.

The effect of her scream was immediate.

All around her, trees pitched backward. Small branches were ripped from their trunks, leaving behind fresh wounds of green wood. The air turned visible, rippling into a tight series of waves that shot from her, racing toward the horizon and taking hold of anything in their path.

Struck in the chest, Lachlan went somersaulting down the rest of the hill, tumbling over himself as he was thrown back through the woods, back through the brambles, all the way back across the town border.

He landed in a heap and did not move.

Her voice, pierced so sharp and completely deafening, tore past the Warding Stones and spread over the town of Mistaken. She could picture the scream rocketing to the Great Bay, across its waves to the coast, and out to sea.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, and the sound died.

The seconds after the scream were filled with the most profound silence Greer had ever known.

It was as if the entire world listened with bated breath, cringing and cowering as it waited for what would come next.

She couldn’t hear the calls of Hessel or the Stewards, the sounds of the search parties, or the rustles of forest creatures that they stirred up. There was no birdsong, there was no chatter of small beasts. There wasn’t even the whistle of the ever-present wind.

There was just…nothing.

Then came the notes of Third Bellows, three long blasts announcing the end of another day, the start of another night. Even they sounded cowed, dwarfed by the immense magnitude of Greer’s anger and pain.

The Bellows sounded, and the sun set, and Lachlan did not move.

The Bellows sounded, and the sun set, and Greer remained on the far side of the Warding Stones.

Feeling as if her head were stuffed with goose down, Greer picked up her pack and stood.

Movement on the far edge of the clearing caught her attention. It was Hessel.

She saw him see her. She saw him see Lachlan.

As he hurried to the young man’s broken body, she turned away with disgust. Let them have each other.

Greer studied the climb ahead of her. She was facing a forest painted unfamiliar by the shades of falling night. In the dark bruise of twilight, she could just make out the tracks of her beloved.

She set off after them, and did not give Mistaken a single backward glance.