criteria, he wanted to shout.
No, it wasn’t Chris’ fault. And neither was it Sarah’s. He had brought her to the island in the first place, and even though there had been a tepid connection between them, it had quickly turned on its heel. But it was he who had put her in the danger they were now facing, and he couldn’t escape that lingering fact. His pace quickened as he ran, barefoot and shirtless, fresh sweat slick on his back and forehead, as a frown overtook his clean-shaven cheeks.
Before he made it back to the cabin, he veered off one of the lesser used trails, already starting to overgrow with salal and ferns that hovered over top of it, creating a mini canopy that seemed to be trying to hide any evidence of human or bear. He smirked and bushwhacked through it, the speed of his sprint causing the ferns to shudder in his wake as though they’d been jostled. He knew that the trail edged over several high granite cliffs that gave a relatively good view of the bay to the northeast of the island. That’s where the poacher’s had come from, and if they tried to land on the island again, that would be the best place to run aground.
He slowed consciously as he neared the cliffs. He could already see the grey-blue break of the ocean and horizon through the trees ahead and crouched low, going down on all fours, as he peered over the side, his face framed by the foliage. Nothing. That was good news, but in a way, the waiting and expectation, the constant threat of them possibly returning, was even worse. Part of him hoped he might see the small white mark of a boat ploughing the waves, something that would clarify the danger for him, bring it into a physical and real light, rather than this dancing around what-ifs and shadows.
When he got back to the cabin, Sarah was outside rooting through the small fenced off garden behind. She still had on her running shorts and tank-top. He watched her wipe at her brow with the back of her hand, smudging the top of her eyebrows with dirt. She almost didn’t hear him until he was right at the gate.
“Geezus!” she said, gasping and almost stepping on the tomato plants. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” he held up both hands defensively. “Force of habit. When you’re in bear form long enough, you tend to want to walk like one. Real quiet. How’s Chris, is he awake?”
She nodded and squatted down, plucking several ripe tomatoes into the wicker basket beside her. He noticed with sly grin that she had started to follow his example, going bare foot at every opportunity. Already her toes and her soles were dark, like someone had penciled them in.
“I think he’s still weak… I don’t think he’ll be able to walk, much less run, should the occasion warrant it,” she said, and a look flashed between them. Both of them had started to think in terms of worst-case-scenario, which did little to improve the morale that loomed down on them like growing stalagmites. “But! He remembered about the radio…”
Dylan snapped his fingers and felt like hitting himself in the head. “I’m such an idiot,” he exclaimed. “I’d completely forgotten. Truth be told, I don’t even have the access code for it… another one of the elder’s rules. Thank goodness for Chris. Did you two get a signal out?”
“Not yet, but I left it with Chris. I guess… it’s not the most reliable piece of equipment,” she said, and stood up. “In the meantime, I thought I’d try and take care of the garden… you men really don’t have much of a green thumb, do you?”
He stepped through the gate and gave the garden a pitiable expression. She saw his look and giggled under her breath, and he approached her and wrapped his arms around her stomach from behind, nuzzling his face against the top of her head. A sweet smell lingered, some sort of flower, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what that flower might look like. He was worried, for a moment, that she might flinch, or try to escape his embrace. Not too long ago, she had been confused, distant and aloof, all emotions he knew too well, and all predicated on their marriage.
But she only sighed, and seemed to relax against his chest, even as his hands trailed over her belly, pulling her closer