Page 43
Story: The Wilds (Elin Warner #3)
42
Elin
Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021
‘The camp.’ Hand on hips, Isaac surveys the scene in front of them, slowly shaking his head. ‘Don’t reckon we’d have even clocked it if you hadn’t come over this way.’
Elin nods, staring at it – an almost unobstructed view of the site. Too far away to see any real detail, but key elements are visible – the shapes of people moving about, rough outlines of the vans.
Isaac steps forwards, slowly shaking his head. ‘If you had binoculars—’
‘You’d have a pretty good view.’ Skin prickling, Elin imagines Kier standing here. Watching the camp, their movements.
Watching what, exactly? Who?
It puts Kier’s painting of the viewpoint in a completely different light. Now she’s seen this, she can glimpse a certain power in it: in the extreme focus of the lens, the illumination of the image inside.
Was Kier shining a light on something? The camp? Had she known she was being watched, decided to turn that gaze back on them ?
They stand, side by side for a moment, looking out, watching a bird swoop low above them before plunging down, over the drop.
‘Might be coincidence,’ Isaac says finally. ‘She might never have even realised she could see the camp from here.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Elin’s eyes shift to the ground. Between the boulders, it’s rocky, but there are patches of scrubby grass and weed, almost worn away to soil. ‘Looks like someone’s spent a fair bit of time here.’
He nods. ‘Probably not a good idea to mention this when we go down to camp tonight.’
A knot of fear tightens in her stomach. She’d seen how quickly the atmosphere had turned before. ‘Yeah, I think we’re going to need to tread carefully. No mention of the map either.’
‘Speaking of that,’ Isaac reaches for his phone. ‘If you reckon you’ve got another one in you after this, I was thinking here.’ He gestures to the screen. ‘The waterfall. It’s not far.’
A heavy silence falls between them.
Neither of them wants to voice it – the name Luísa had given it.
Suicide Falls.
The rocky, downhill stretch towards the falls doesn’t last long. Fifteen minutes in, it starts to climb again as they turn right, following the line of another hill.
They’ve only walked a few minutes when the trail narrows, the path barely more than a few feet wide. Elin tenses, focusing; it’s taking all her concentration not to trip on the loose stones, the knotted tree roots jutting across the track.
It’s about ten minutes or so before they come to some steps roughly hewn into the hillside.
‘Listen,’ Isaac tips his head up. ‘I reckon we’re close. I can hear the falls.’
Elin comes to a halt on the step just below him. ‘You’re—’
She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.
A scream sounds out, echoing against the rock face above them.
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