The people in the room next door, who would have liked to sleep for another hour, might venture to say that Glen was a capable companion with or without hands. At least from the sound of things.
The cliffs were so windy Glen was afraid Rosie was going to blow right off. He supposed she could manage even if that did happen, but he was having to consciously work to stay upright.
He thought she was a good sport to agree to combine an investigation with a getaway. Of course there was always a chance that his lead was another dead end, in which case he would have to say that the only thing he had to show for his trouble was a fine few days with his sweet Rosie and some very happy balls. Though he would certainly omit the last of that when he reported to Rosie’s auntie, the Lady Laiken.
The weather had turned cooler than normal and they had rummaged through the backpacks to layer clothes. The plan was for Rosie to transport herself out to the distant island, barely visible in the mists, so that she could spot the entrance to the fabled Ogram’s cave where the hermit was purported to live. If she could find it, she would return for Glen and they would go together.
It was a plan custom designed to deflate a young man’s ego, but it was also the most practical so Glen had to agree that sense trumped pride.
“Back in a flash.”
She gave him a big kiss on the cheek and was gone. It only took Rosie a second to locate two shadows that could be possible targets. The first was only a shadow. The second was a cave, but only three feet deep. However, once at the entrance to that cave, it was possible to see another that was entirely obscured by a limestone lip that curved downward from a shelf above. It matched the description Glen gave her. She switched on the light, did a quick sweep, and went back for Glen knowing he’d be anxious.
He jumped when she materialized next to him, but at least didn’t yelp. Thankfully.
She looked serious and started to shake her head.
His shoulders slumped a little. “Okay, well, it’s just…”
She grinned. “It’s there. Come on.”
“What?”
He didn’t have time to switch gears before he was standing inside the head of the cave.
“This is it, right?”
He couldn’t see Rosie’s face because the light was to her back.
“I think so.”
He fumbled in his pack, retrieved a contraption with duct tape sticking out everywhere, and secured it to his head. Rosie was fascinated and hadn’t yet decided whether she was going to laugh or worry.
“What is that?”
Glen made an adjustment on his forehead and then switched the thing on. The cave was flooded with light. “Oh. I didn’t like any of the ‘head lights’,” he used air quotes, “on the market. This gives us a good six hours. It’s a bike light. Nice, huh? A NiteRider 350, and a… um, jock strap. Look at that.”
She smiled to herself, thinking it was hard to argue with results. “So what now?”
“Well, I guess we go further in? See if we can find the…”
“Hermit.”
“Yeah. The hermit.”
“You think there really is a hermit?”
“Well, the thing was right about the cave.”
“The thing?”
He waved the paper in his hand. As they moved deeper into the cave the light from the entrance faded away as did the sounds of both wind and North Atlantic waves crashing into the cliff sides below. “Got a copy right here from Puddephatt. Claims the foremost authority on the subject of elf/fae history is this cave-dwelling hermit. Oral tradition.”
“Oral tradition,” she said drily. “Yes, but Glen. How would this hermit get in and out? What does he do for supplies? It would take hours to scale the cliffs and be almost impossible to do alone. Unless you think he has a part Elemental delivery service?”
Glen stopped and, when he turned to face her, she squinted when the light shone straight in her eyes.
“Oops. Sorry.” He pushed the light to the side so that he could face her without blinding her. “Why did you assume he’s human? Maybe he’s like you.”