light. She warmed the earth in the center, creating the stars. Supposedly, when people die, theSun makes more stars.”
He spoke quickly to conclude as they rounded another wall of rock, slowing to a stop as the tunnel came into view. She had expected a sort of overpass, but the hole was narrow, carved out of the mountain. He paused, stretching an arm to prevent her from going forward. Whistling inside, he listened for a response. Hearing only an echo, he ducked in to press against the walls, nudging wooden beams. Sighing, he warned, “We should be careful. It’s pretty old.”
Some sections had crumbled away, erosion taking the stone where rot had taken wood platforms. She assumed Noah’s hesitation to go further inside was related to the structural instability. From the fallen rocks scattered across the ground, it was a rational concern.
Every visible inch of the original wall was covered, some pieces extending far beyond what the sunlight illuminated. The uneven surface of the stone hadn’t inhibited the artists and vandals. Paint filled the nooks and crannies in the same way the Japanese aggrandize cracks with gold. In the fresher pieces, it bubbled like only leaving a spray-can focused on a single section too long could.
The majority of the mural was a forest of trees. They were inverted, not unlike the cedars in Alaska’s Glacier Gardens advertised in every gas station from Juneau to Ashland. Roots sprayed from the top like weeping branches, disheveled. The top was cropped to one side, as though half the trunk gave way before the other. Several bears lay in submission at their feet while whales were tossed across the tops. It wasn’t clear whether they were victims to the bird with a frowning star wedged in its beak or the brown mass in the center, its looming features like monkey fused with a man. Arms stretched to the sky while knees curled to its chest, its head coned, its lips round in a howl.
Aly pointed, afraid to touch the dirty paint, as though it would streak away. “This is the sasquatch?”
He nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Head of the food chain – or so I’m told.”
“Really,” she murmured, head cocked to the side. “It seems like whoever made this was pretty freaked.”
“Wouldn’t you be? They’re supposed to be big enough to rip trees out of the ground and flip them straight upside down.”
“Bigfoot did this?” Aly gasped, fingers hovering over the swirls that textured the bark.
“I think the artist did,” he teased.
Forcing a smile, she met his eyes before turning back to the wall. She hadn’t expected to see concern.
“Unless Hairy Man’s artistically inclined,” she ribbed, hoping he’d loosen up. “Do you think there’s anything to it?”
His brow furrowed. “Honestly? No. I don’t think you should look into it so much, either. The people around here… they get caught up in themselves, especially stories. If you ask me, they take it way too seriously.”
“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” she said suddenly. The locals clearly spent laborious amount of time on the belief– even the younger generation was up to date.
I’m an idiot. It didn’t even occur to me that I’m being offensive.
“Aly, that is so not what I meant. At all.”
Aly winced. Great. Now asking if I was being ignorant made me ignorant. Can this topic just disappear?
“I just meant that you shouldn’t let anyone scare you,” he continued. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything.”
She raise d her brow, surprised. “I’m not afraid,” Aly admitted, staring at her shoes. Sliding her gaze to meet his, she whispered, “I feel very safe with you.”
Noah smiled. “Good, because I’d protect you.”
CHAPTER 8 | NOAH
Noah had elected to take the long way back to town. Under the assumption the tunnels would take longer, he hadn’t factored in the light debris dropping from the ceiling when his foot caught in a pothole. His arm still throbbed from slamming into a shifty beam. It was a relief to leave– the place had felt eerie since Charlie Reeves nearly lost his hand to a bear that had been scoping out the manmade cave.
He and Rona Carr were running around drunk in the dark, but still.
The end of the road led out into the main row of houses, which connected with his street in a fork. Uncharacteristically barren of patrons, they were permitted inside to purchase coffee from the bar. It was hooked in the corner of the street, trees filling in the area around it. The