Page 3 of Grey (Little River Stallions #2)

Tatum checked that her phone was charged, then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and tucked it into her backpack. She had a bag of popcorn, a junk journal, and a few pencils so she could document her little foray into the woods.

As she stepped out of her small cabin, she opened the map on her phone and located the river, about a half mile away.

She looked down at herself. She was wearing shorts and a tank top because it was hot as heck, but at least she’d be in the shade of the woods and wouldn’t have to worry about getting sunburned.

But she didn’t want to get attacked by bugs, so she gave herself a once-over with bug spray and then locked her front door, tucking her key under the flowerpot on the front porch.

Opening the compass app, she followed the compass in the direction of the river and set off into the woods.

Once she was under the canopy of trees, the oppressive afternoon sun was distorted by the leaves and it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it might be.

As she made her way to the river using her compass, she thought about how her ex Ryan used to ridicule her interest in legends and folklore.

He’d considered it a childish pursuit and always acted so condescendingly toward her when she would read books on the topic.

She’d gotten to where she’d hidden the books from him, using her phone to read digital books she borrowed from the library or purchased online instead of paperback books, which were her favorite.

She loved holding a book in her hand. Especially an old one, where she could feel the history in the pages, and think about the people who’d read the book before her.

But he wasn’t in her life anymore.

She’d run from that life, changed her phone number and disappeared while he’d been at work.

She wasn’t afraid of him; he’d never been physically violent, but he’d not been kind to her either.

She’d started dating him after leaving home when she graduated from college, trying to figure out how to build a life for herself when she’d never had anyone really teach her how to do that.

She’d thought she was escaping the hell of her homelife with her addict father, but she’d run right into the arms of a man who was just as controlling and demanding as her father had been.

She’d never been able to figure out why she stayed so long, but it was probably like that old fable, where the frog is in the pot and doesn’t realize it’s being boiled to death because the water is heating so slowly.

But she wasn’t in the pot anymore, she was in Little River, with a place of her own, a job she already loved, and a sassy librarian’s assistant who’d already filled her in on the local gossip and was sure to become a good friend.

Which she could really use.

When she reached the river, a surge of pride filled her. She stood on the bank of what was surely a large river when it wasn’t the dead of summer during a dry time, and watched the water babble along the bank and sparkle in the dappled sunlight overhead.

She’d freaking done it.

Her. Tatum Marie Jayce had used a compass and found a dang river!

Sure, the river ran through the whole town and it wasn’t that big of a town, but still, a girl could be excited for what she’d accomplished.

Taking a little break, she sat on a big rock and took a drink of water and then took out the junk journal she’d made in an art class at her old library in Pennsylvania, and sketched the river.

The journal had been made with paper lunch bags which gave her pockets to drop in photos and souvenirs, so she looked around for things to tuck inside after she’d sketched a reasonable image of the river on the pale brown paper.

After putting in a few leaves and some pretty wildflowers, she closed the journal and sat on the rock for a little while longer, enjoying the peacefulness of the place.

She’d come looking for Eleanor in some ways, but really she was looking for herself.

For the girl who’d retreated to books when cancer stole her mom far too young and left her with a father who was as charming as a snake and destructive as a wildfire.

Somewhere in these woods, Tatum was finding herself again.

Finding her love of adventure and the outdoors, of chasing after legends and mysteries and discovering little pieces of herself long forgotten.

Rising to her feet, she set off to follow the river to see where it took her.

Tatum eventually realized she didn’t know where she was.

She was on the river, but the river had meandered in a way that took her into deeper woods.

She knew the river led through the town, but how would she know when she was outside of town?

She’d seen no landmarks, no cabins tucked away, no campsites or signs, not even a “No Trespassing” sign that would let her know she was near someone’s property.

She turned to follow the river back to where she’d come from, but nothing looked familiar. Had the river branched and she’d missed it?

Hunger gnawed at her. She’d been walking for hours and the sun was starting to set. She’d eaten her bag of popcorn and finished her water a while ago.

Her adventure was turning into something resembling a nightmare.

Or at least a bad dream.

Reaching into her bag for her phone, she didn’t feel it in the side pocket.

She pulled the backpack in front of herself and searched inside, then frantically patted herself down.

She whispered harshly, “No, no!” It must have slipped out as she’d walked, maybe when she’d tripped over that exposed root and nearly taken a header into a tree.

“This is not happening,” she groaned.

Now she couldn’t even use the compass to get back to her cabin or the phone to call the police for help.

Hell, she hadn’t even thought to pack a flashlight!

The sun was dipping lower by the minute; the deep amber light that had dappled the ground before now turned to shadows that stretched toward her.

She looked behind her where the river was covered in shadows.

If she went back, what if she went the wrong way?

But if she kept following the river, what if she never ran into any sign of life?

She put her backpack on her shoulder and looked around carefully. She was a smart woman, and she wasn’t helpless. If she followed the river, eventually she’d come across someone. And once the sun set, maybe she’d be able to see the lights of a farmhouse and could follow that.

She wasn’t crazy about spending the night alone in the woods, in the freaking dark, but she didn’t really have a choice.

“Well, Eleanor,” she said loudly, “if you are the sort of ghost who leads people to help, I’m taking suggestions.”

She waited, her breath held, and heard nothing but the bugs and birds as the sun set.

Well hell.

Okay, she had to keep going. She hadn’t started her life over in Little River to be lost forever in the woods.

She’d walk until she was tired and then she’d find a place to settle for the night.

But hopefully—hopefully—she’d find help before she needed to sleep, because camping out in the dark without supplies was not on her bucket list.

The woods felt bigger and darker as she walked along the river, listening to the rush of the water.

As the sun set completely and the moon came out, her eyes adjusted so she could see some of what was around her.

It made her walk more slowly, though, so she didn’t trip and fall.

The last thing she needed was to get hurt and not be able to walk.

She was so in over her head right now. No one knew where she was or that she was planning to just take a couple-mile walk in the afternoon to look for local legends. No one would miss her until Monday.

But she wasn’t going to panic, because Tatum wasn’t the sort of girl to panic. Not after the lifetime of hardships she’d endured.

She looked up at the sky through the trees, and then she focused on the darkness ahead of her.

I hope I make it home safely.