Fatigue hung heavy on her limbs and mind as Emma followed Luis and Rose. For what felt like hours, she had cried hot tears and sucked in hiccupping sobs. Now, she had no more tears to cry. She could still see the orange flames of the fire encompassing the cabin. She could still see the shadow of the creature galloping away; orange plumes swelled and burst from its body as oxygen from the air fed the fire. Before long, it had collapsed, giving one final, high-pitched wail, before becoming immobile on the wet earth. Luis had pulled her away then, and Emma had not looked back since.

She did not know where they were going, and she had an inkling that Luis didn’t know, either. The dark trees hovered over them like giants, and the path was difficult to discern through the mud. While the rain had slowed further since leaving the cabin, it still fell in a steady drizzle. Maybe there was another home, another place to stay the night, a town nearby that could give them shelter until the darkness above abated. But a part of Emma didn’t want to go to another cabin. In fact, she wanted to avoid cabins all together.

Sleep was desperately attempting to close her eyes; the pain in her legs and feet made a convincing case for allowing it to do so. Eventually, after another hour of walking, she gave up and collapsed. Sweet relief rushed through her mind, even as her body made a wet splat sound when she hit damp grass. She was asleep in a matter of seconds.

When she woke, she was in a bed. Hot, scratchy covers were wrapped around her body, and the room was lit by a sole lamp. Next to the lamp, on a bedside table, was a glass of water. She reached out to it and drank greedily, taking large, gulping swallows. When the water was gone, she placed the cup back where it had been and pulled the covers up to her chin. The room was warm and comfortable, and outside she could hear the occasional patter of rainfall. Even the wind had died down. Now it was just quiet.

She closed her eyes again and allowed her body to be taken on the wings of dreamless sleep.

Soothing voices pulled her from the deep waters of slumber. One she recognized instantly: Luis’s. The other she didn’t recognize. It had a deep timbre and a warm quality, yet she could hear distinct rasp on the end of certain words. Another voice joined the duo: a woman’s: strong and comforting, like her mother’s.

Outside, the sun was shining. While she couldn’t hear birds chirping, she could see yellow rays slicing through the curtains that covered the window beside her bed.

She slid out of bed, ignoring the residual ache in her legs, and walked over to the window. When she pulled the curtains open, she was surprised by how bright the sun was. The sky was a perfect powder-blue, and it held no signs of the dark clouds that had covered it for days on end. The ground told its own story: standing water, mud, and muck covered paths and dirt. In the distance, she could see trees that had been torn apart by the winds, some branches lying on the ground while others clung to trunks by thin strips.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice said.

Emma turned around and saw Rose standing in the doorway. She was wearing a blue and black dress that was wrinkled and slightly too large for her. Emma rushed over to the girl and gave her a tight hug. Joy soared in her heart as Rose returned it.

“Where are we?” Emma asked as she ended the embrace.

“My dad carried you after you collapsed,” Rose said. “He didn’t know if it was from tiredness or if something was wrong. Luckily, we came across a family a few miles afterward. They were kind enough to let us in. We’re only a few miles from Moorhead.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“A day.”

“Feels like I slept longer than that,” Emma said, rubbing her eyes. She smiled as the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee wafted into her nostrils. “Seems like I woke up in time for breakfast,” she said.

Rose nodded, and they made their way out to the dining area together.

Luis greeted them when they entered the room. He also had been given a fresh pair of clothes, though they fit him better than Rose’s did. Across the rectangular dining room table from him was a middle-aged man and woman, both of whom waved at Emma as she entered. Their rich, umber skin glowed warmly in the golden sunlight.

“Hi, little one,” the man said. “You hungry? We still got plenty o’ food. Bacon, sausage, eggs, coffee. Whatever y’ want.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Emma said. “I don’t wanna impose, though.”

The man waved his hand, as if to say nonsense, and stood from the chair he was in. “I’ll just get you all o’ the above,” he said. He then turned to the kitchen, where she heard clattering plates and sizzling food.

“I’m Elizabeth, though most folks just call me Beth,” the woman said. “Out there gettin’ your food is Solomon.”

“You can just call me Sol,” the man said as he returned. He had piled food high, and Emma’s mouth began to water as she saw a mountain of fat sausages, thick slices of bacon, and eggs. He placed it in front of her along with a fork. Emma dug in greedily after thanking him. Solomon laughed as he watched her dig into the food with animalistic greed. Emma closed her eyes and savored the spicy meat.

“Luis here’s been tellin’ us a bit about what you’ve been through,” Beth said. “I’m so sorry.”

Emma looked up at her; Beth’s face was carved with concern and sadness. Emma thanked her with her eyes before returning to her food. She offered a piece of bacon to Rose, who declined.

“I’m sorry to hear ‘bout your folks,” Sol said. “I just want you to know, you’re always welcome here. Even if its years from now and you need a place to stop for a hot meal and a bed, our house is open.”

“Thank you,” Emma said.

She ate the rest of her meal in silence. When she was done, her belly was full and her heart was warm. It still ached with pain as she thought about her mother, about John, about her father, but she could feel the love in Beth and Sol’s house. It lingered in the air with the dust and the sunshine.

They spent the rest of the day and night in the house. Solomon regaled them with fun stories about how he and Beth met, about their marriage and his time in the war. He didn’t bring up anything before the war, nor his childhood, and Emma did not prod or ask. She could sense a profound level of pain – far greater and deeper than her own – surrounding those times. At some point during the night, Beth brought out a large jug of whiskey, and she drank with Luis while Emma and Rose took turns playing Solomon in chess. The board was old, and some of the pieces were chipped and worn, but Solomon made the game fun. Neither of the girls won a single game against him, though they kept trying. Had he let them, Emma was confident they would have gone late into the night until one of them won.

The weather had warmed up considerably since the rainstorm had ended, and now mosquitos flew around lazily in the air. Once everyone had gone to bed, Emma sat outside on the porch and listened to the sound of the birds and the bugs: the musicality of the crickets and the low, sorrowful call of nearby loons. She was surprised when Luis walked down the porch steps and sat down next to her. His eyes were tired and rimmed with red, but he looked more at ease than he had been since she had known him. Solomon had changed out the bandage on his calf and had redressed the wound while also attending to the bullet wound in his shoulder. Luckily, there was an exit wound. With new clothes and an ample amount of sleep, he looked like a different man.

“Peaceful, isn’t it?” he asked, looking down at her.

Emma nodded. “Sometimes, Dad would take me outside to the farm after everyone had gone to sleep. We would sit at the edge of the river and listen to the bugs and the animals. Sometimes, he would point out the north star, or the big dipper. He would tell me stories about his Mom. Most times though, we just enjoyed the night air together.”

She paused and looked down at her feet. They still bore the cuts and scrapes of the path they had taken, but they were no longer cold.

“Mom would catch us some nights, and she would start goin’ off on him, ‘bout how I need m’ sleep and how, if I ever wanted to be a writer, I’d need plenty o’ rest so I could keep goin’ to school. I don’t think she was actually mad at him, though. She never was truly yellin’; in fact, I can’t remember them ever truly yellin’ at each other.”

They let silence fill the air, and Emma stared out at the trees surrounding the house. A mosquito landed on her arm. She blew it off as gently as she could.

“There was one night we were sittin’ together, and I had been thinkin’ a lot about death. I don’t know why. Maybe John had been teasin’ me about it or somethin’, or maybe I had heard about someone’s Ma dyin’ and it made me start thinkin’. So I asked him, ‘Where do people go when they die?’ He got all thoughtful, and he furrowed his brow like he often did when he was thinkin’ about tough questions, and he didn’t answer for a while. For a long time he didn’t answer me, and I thought he was never gonna answer.”

“What did he say?” Luis asked.

“Well he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and he held me close. Then he said, ‘Well, I don’t quite know. I believe we go to Heaven when we die. That we become one wit’ God and Jesus an’ all that. But I’ve also had some conversations with folk who believe we come back in some form or another.’ Like, some folk come back as snakes if they’re real bad in life instead o’ goin’ to Hell.”

“And what about good people?” Luis asked.

“Maybe good folk come back as nice things,” Emma said. “Like maybe they come back as deer. My dad said he wanted to come back as a stag, with his antlers reachin’ up toward the sky.”

“Why a stag?” Luis asked.

“He liked the idea o’ the freedom,” Emma said with a small smile. “That he could go anywhere and see whatever sights he wanted to see.”

“That does sound nice,” Luis said. “A stag, huh? I guess that suits him.”

“What would you want to come back as?” Emma asked.

Luis looked up toward the velvet-black sky and the stars. “Maybe a rabbit.”

“I think I’d like to come back as a turtle,” Emma said. “They’re nice. Well, except the snappin’ ones. But usually those ones are nice too unless I’m botherin’ them, which I try not to do.”

Luis laughed. “A turtle, huh?”

Emma nodded. “And they jus’ lay in the sun and swim in the water. And they live to be real old!”

“That they do,” Luis confirmed.

A long, pregnant pause filled the world, and Emma tried to focus on the serenity of the forest and the sky. A question lingered on the tip of her tongue, a question she had been wanting to ask Luis for a while. She looked at him, and he at her, and anxiety wormed its way through her stomach and up into her chest.

“Were you gonna stay behind in the cabin?” Emma asked after another few minutes of deliberation.

He stared back with a quizzical expression

“Back with the wendigo. I kept askin’ who would light the fire, and you kept avoiding the question. If my Mom hadn’t come, would you have stayed behind?”

She could see a lie worming its way up Luis’s throat, but he pushed it back down. He picked at his nails and sighed heavily.

“I thought about it,” he said. “Probably would’ve stayed behind if circumstances were different,” he said. “I thought Rose was dead, and I didn’t want to be alone.” He paused, and he smiled at Emma. “I’m glad I didn’t, though. I just wish your Mom could be here with us, too.”
“Yeah,” Emma said softly. She could feel hot tears beginning to well in her eyes. “Me too.”

Another loon called, the sound hovering over the woods like a fine mist. Why did loons sing? she wondered. Who are they calling to? Are they as lonely as the songs they sing?

“I’m not alone, though,” Luis said. “We’ve made new friends, and Rose is here.” He paused. “You’re not alone, either.”

The tears came then, hot and thick, tumbling down her cheeks in burning streaks.

“I miss them so much,” Emma said, her voice thin as her words pushed through choked sobs.
“I know,” Luis said.

He pulled Emma into a tight hug. She could still smell the combination of whiskey and coffee on his breath, but she didn’t care. She cried into his chest and held him tight as he began to sing to her.

Oh María, no llores, no llores.

Oh María, no llores, no llores.

El ejército del faraón se ahogó.

Oh Maria, no llores.

Sleep took her at some point. Emma was vaguely aware of being put into bed and tucked in. Then everything was dark, and her mind swam into a well of colorful dreams. For once, they were happy.

Next Chapter: Matthew