Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

Amarok hasn't stopped placing bowls of fruit in front of the teepee, which is officially ours for the time being. Three days have passed since the healing ritual and Bren's fever has finally dropped.

"How is he trying to impress you this time?" He sits upright on a mat of willow branches as I step inside through the tent opening.

"Currants." The size of hazelnuts.

Bren frowns in displeasure. "I don't like the way he's courting you."

"It's only fruit, Bren. You owe your life to Amarok… Besides, it's also possible this fruit is for both of us. Ever thought of that?"

He's silent and I know it's the fact that he owes his life to Amarok that bothers him the most, besides the fact that he's so beat up, he can barely walk half a mile. Every time he takes a breath, I can see how hard it is for him with his broken ribs.

Now, however, he gets up, puts his finger to his lips, and walks toward the tent entrance. "I bet he's still out there watching your shadow through the tarp."

"Stop it, you're being ridiculous," I say, half amused and half angry, but Bren persists and I follow, peering out beside him in the blazing midday sun.

A shadowy figure, definitely too big for a caribou, scoots behind an oak trunk.

"I knew it!" Bren lets out an indignant breath. "You know, it's one thing to do someone favors with collected fruit, but when they start stalking you, that's where the fun ends."

I refrain from reminding him that he stalked me, too. "So, fruits aren't fun for you either." I watch him withdraw and sit by the fire pit. His hair has grown, making his oval face appear narrower, and he's certainly lost weight. He looks even more serious than before, even darker, as if the shadows Nashashuk spoke of are visible in his aura.

"We're lucky to be here…" I begin. "Bren, had I lost you… I don't know what I…what I would have done…" Crying comes easy, thanks to these past few days, as if my body hasn't yet realized that the danger is over and that I can relax again. Tired, I collapse next to Bren and he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. I feel how much I need that, his closeness, the certainty that his heart is beating. My soul is so confused, especially because of the ritual and the things that happened in the teepee and inside me during it. I still wonder whether I actually saw a summary of my life and a glimpse of the future, or whether it wasn't rather all a fantasy, perhaps triggered by hallucinogenic herbs and the monotonous rhythm of the tambourine.

"You should have left, Lou. Left me behind, but you stayed," Bren whispers against my cheek. "I owe you everything."

A warm shiver of happiness runs through my veins. "Then be patient with Amarok. Darrow says he doesn't know our world or how to deal with women and rivals. He only knows nature and the stories his parents told him, nothing more."

"Why is that?" Bren looks at me, irritated. Sure, I haven't told him that much yet because he's been sleeping a lot these last two days.

I poke around in the embers with a branch. "His parents raised him alone in the wilderness. They left their reservation before he was born, but they died in a bull moose attack. Amarok survived and was eventually found by the Navapaki."

"He's never seen a city?"

"No, and no other village besides this one."

I wonder what it would be like to only know the wild, rough land, not knowing about money, big cities, luxury, and cars. Wealth and poverty. Police and press. I can't decide if it's good or bad that his parents kept everything from him. Is it good to believe in the deer woman or that Bren might lend me to him for the night? Although the latter is probably nothing unusual for people in civilization, either, but I don't know for certain.

"Maybe we'll end up like this," Bren says now, giving me a sideways glance. "Lou, we need to talk about how to continue."

I avoid his eyes and stare into the licking flames. Before he became so sick, he wanted to leave me or at least gave the subject some serious thought. So far, I've repressed that rather well. "Did you know how sick you were?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yes."

The truth is painful and relieving at the same time. "You should have told me instead of plotting like a recluse again."

He sighs. "That's the only way I know. I was always solely responsible for myself. Besides, I didn't want to upset you."

I nod. "Okay. I accept that." It's amazing how many things I can overlook, things that would have hurt me or angered me in the past. I still remember his words well: I will make mistakes with you. I want you to forgive them. But I also made a lot of mistakes. Mistakes that caused his injuries in the first place. "What was your plan?" I ask. "I'm sure you had one."

"I was hoping for a town along the way. For antibiotics from a pharmacy."

You might have been caught stealing. Or maybe there wouldn't have been one! Then what?

"Something like this could happen again, Bren." I'm reluctant to have this conversation because it can't end well. There is no solution to our problem. We are wanted and being in the wilderness without backpacks makes it a place of perdition. I have a down jacket, Bren has a lighter, Aquaphor, and a small pocketknife, that's it, not counting my cell phone and solar power bank.

This realization abruptly yanks me back to reality, which has been more of a floating dream the last few days. I have a down jacket… I almost laugh hysterically, but I put my hands in front of my face and inhale deeply so I don't have to feel the well-established fear in my bones. Bren survived, but we have nothing.

"If we can't stay here for now, I don't know where we should go," I say after a while. That's why it would be catastrophic if Bren freaked out about Amarok.

Likewise, it would be a disaster if the cops caught us. I have not yet allowed myself to think in detail about what is to come. The tabloids, the photographers, the interrogations. The psychologists. Every detail would be torn apart by sensationalism-seeking reporters—butchered like a fattened pig until only blood remained. And Bren would be a monster to everyone. No one would see him for who he is, but as they are themselves. And in their worldview, there is only black and white; they are blind to shades of gray. They only see the reality, not the dream within. Perhaps they would make an example of him to discourage copycats.

"I'm scared of what's to come," I say quietly now.

Bren pulls me against him as hard as he can. Hug me. My skill. I smell his hair, which smells of warm smoke and sage, and his skin, which tastes salty on my lips. "Don't be mad at me, okay?"

I stiffen immediately. "You want to leave?" I ask, startled and dumbfounded. "But you have…"

"I've asked Darrow and the tribe's eldest if we could work in the camp for provisions, weapons, herbs, and clothing, and then leave," he interrupts mid-sentence. "I said we don't want to interrupt our journey because of my illness or your ankle. I guess they believe we're adventurers or dropouts… I know, I should have checked with you, and if you're not okay with this, we can proceed differently. I figured if we are going to continue eastward into the wilderness, we're going to need these things."

I'm stunned. "When did you have this conversation?" Wasn't he asleep the entire time?

"Last night. You went to the creek to wash yourself. I'm sorry."

I shake my head and feel a huge weight lift from my shoulders. "You don't have to be sorry, Bren, and I don't want to do it any differently." Still, I think it's nice of him to offer me a choice.

Days pass and Bren soon manages to take on small jobs. He showed Darrow how to make rabbit traps and carved himself a bow out of ash wood, greased it, and shaped it over the fire. Since making arrows is so unpopular, Bren takes on the task for the Navapaki in exchange for keeping a portion. Using pre-dried hazelnut wood, he removes the bark and sands the shaft smooth, then carves the tips from bone and attaches the quill. As thanks for five arrows, Coven gives him a bowstring from civilization so he doesn't have to use the tendon of an elk.

It's now early August, which I know from Thea who has a clock with a date display in her teepee. In general, a lot is not quite as original and wild as it seemed at first glance. Except for Amarok, of course.

Since Thea is about my build, perhaps a little fuller around the hips, she gave me a spare set of clothes the day before yesterday. I only had what I was wearing when we arrived in the camp: underwear, long jeans, and my white T-shirt, which was more of a muddy color after spending days in the forest. She left me a knee-length leather dress with pretty red embroidery that was too tight for her after Yoomee was born and a pair of fringed moccasins that cover my ankles. She also lent me her horn comb several times—a real treasure in the middle of nature. I've started braiding my hair into two pigtails anyway, feeling a little like Winnetou's little sister. I usually go searching for edible berries, but I don't wander far from the camp because I don't know what's lurking between the bushes—apart from that, my ankle still hurts. Although Nashashuk has concocted a tincture for me, the throbbing has not completely subsided. My sunburn, the blisters on my feet, and the mosquito bites have healed wonderfully with Thea's ointment, but I'm hesitant to ask whether the green paste is natural or a drugstore product.

One evening as the sun sinks lower, making the lake in the reedy bay glow, Amarok suddenly stands before me, dressed only in long pants and moccasins. His blue-black hair falls loosely over his tanned shoulders and his leather headband features an eagle feather that bends toward the ground.

I am so startled, the bowl of raspberries almost slips out of my hand. The sight of him and his silent arrival is something magical and intimidating. And he's never been so close to me during daylight as he is now. So far he's only dared watch me from afar, maybe because he still questions if I am the deer woman after all.

"Hi," I say, feeling uncomfortable. The coolness of the approaching night wraps itself around my bare calves. It reminds me of the moment in front of the RV when I was unsure if I should enter.

"Hi." Amarok smiles, showing a row of gleaming white teeth. Nobody knows his true age, but I'd guess nineteen or twenty.

"You no deer woman, I'm sorry." The words come out clumsily and with the wrong intonation, but they sound sincere and endearing.

My initial shock subsides slightly. "You mean not, not no," I correct affectionately and nod in confirmation.

He points to a couple of hoof prints on the bank that I didn't notice. "Moose," he says. "Dangerous. No collecting here."

He must have practiced to be able to communicate with me so well. Then again, he has often heard the language as the Navapaki in the camp speak a mixture of English and their mother tongue. Perhaps Amarok understands a lot more than Darrow believes.

Up close, his eyes look like two dark, sparkling crescents. Today, he has no war paint on his face. I have since learned that they only use the symbols on specific occasions. Each one has their own symbols that bring good luck or express strength, and different colors have different meanings. According to Darrow, it's only us white people who refer to it as war paint because we don't know any better.

It's just then that I realize he's handsome. Not because I don't find First Nation people handsome in general, but because I've never looked at Amarok from that perspective. He has a nice wide mouth and a strong, long nose. He's a Mohawk, not a Navapaki, I learned that from Thea.

"I'll show Josephine where to collect," he now says and nods at me invitingly.

I pause, the old fear breathing down the back of my neck again. A mother black bear is on the path in front of the containers. You can't go that way right now. Bits of memory flash through my mind like lightning. "I should go back," I say firmly, but then he grabs my hand firmly.

"I show you."

He pulls me along a beaten track where tall bushes converge like a barrier on either side. For a few seconds, I think about what to do. If I pull away, I'll probably insult him and that's the last thing I want to do. I will never forget what he did for me and Bren. But what if he…

I look around discreetly, but there's no one here but us. We're a bit removed from the camp, but if I have to, I'll scream—as soon as I think it, I am ashamed. I am being unfair to Amarok, 100 percent. If only he wouldn't hold my hand so tightly.

He walks ahead quickly, obviously with no intention of letting go of me. My heart is beating faster. His hand is completely wrapped around mine and my fingers are clammy. With each step, we move further from the shore and the camp until we finally come to a bleached rock face in the middle of the forest. It's not tall, about the size of two full-grown men, but countless juicy berries grow at its base.

"No moose here. Never!" he says firmly and lets go of me.

"Nor deer women?" I joke, still breathless, and form my hand into makeshift antlers on the side of my forehead even though does generally don't have them.

Amarok's narrow eyes widen for a few seconds, but then he throws his head back and laughs. I join in. It goes on like that a few times, back and forth where I shuffle my feet like hooves and he pretends to hide. It's good to be light-hearted, at least for a moment.

"Collect here tomorrow," he says, emphasizing here and stomping the stony ground to clarify.

I nod, relieved and embarrassed. Apparently, he didn't intend to pounce on me in the bushes. Did I truly believe he would?

Side by side, we walk back to the camp and I feel Amarok's eyes on me. Every once in a while, I glance up at him and see something serious, saintly in his eyes. I'm afraid he actually fell in love with me. Maybe with my hair, like Bren did in the beginning.

As the camp comes into view, I search for Bren, but he's not where he usually sits when he's shaping arrows. I feel anxious. It's been this way for the last few days, I just don't know what exactly brought it on. Fear of Bren freaking out? Or fear of how I will react? Or is it simply fear of an uncertain future?

A crackle in the bushes makes me turn my head and I spot Bren coming toward us from the old oaks near the creek, his chin thrust forward.

Was he there waiting for me the entire time?

"There you are," he says, and his forehead wrinkles as his gaze shifts from me to Amarok. "Where have you been?"

"Picking raspberries." I smile tensely and hold the overflowing bowl under his nose as if to prove it. "Would you like some? They're tasty."

Bren impatiently pushes my hand down. "Picking berries? With him? The entire time?" Something flashes through his pupils and I see him trying to suppress it with all his might.

"Amarok saw moose tracks on the bank where I was collecting and came to warn me," I say light-heartedly, but I look at Bren pleadingly. Don't freak out, okay! Nothing happened!

Still, a mocking HA laugh comes out of his mouth, but this time it doesn't leave a hot-cold shiver on my skin. "He came to warn you? Like I believe that! And how convenient since he can approach you at the same time."

I shake my head, lips pressed together, anger welling up inside me. As much as I love him, that's not fair. "I hope he doesn't understand what you're saying since you owe him your life."

Bren's gaze goes from me to Amarok. "You're defending him."

Amarok's shoulders are squared, but his expression is as inscrutable as a statue.

"I don't have to defend him, he wanted to help me. He showed me a place where it is safe to pick berries. You know he lost his parents in a bull moose attack."

"And that's why you let him hold your hand?" Bren hisses angrily.

I wince. "You were spying on us?" I can't believe it and it wounds me deeply.

"There's already an us, huh?"

My grasp tightens around the bowl of raspberries. "Are you actually hearing what I'm saying and is it registering? Amarok merely wanted to protect me. Take a few deep breaths and calm down! He took my hand because otherwise, I wouldn't have understood what he wanted from me. He wanted me to come with him."

Bren snorts. "Maybe your last Mohican will kiss you soon, otherwise you won't understand what he wants from you!"

"Jesus Christ!" Outraged, I almost call out Bren! While there may be some truth to his words, his jealousy is misplaced. We're guests here and we have to act damn decent, otherwise, they might send us away.

I'd prefer to leave Bren standing here until he has calmed down, but he clenches his hands and glares at Amarok as if he's about to pierce him with one of the arrows he carved.

"Stay away from her," he says in a dark, ominous tone. "I don't want you around her when she's alone! Do you understand?"

For several heartbeats, I fear Amarok might lunge at him, but he remains standing there, dignified and impassive. Finally, he walks past Bren and marches back to camp, the feather in his blue-black hair bobbing with every step. Tell that to the wind.

I can imagine why he left. He's as tall and strong as Bren, but Bren is ailing and Amarok is fit. He doesn't want to mess with Bren because to him, that would be dishonorable.

I want to go after him, but Bren swears indignantly, which holds me back.

"Don't-go-after-him-now!" His voice is so angry I almost drop the bowl of raspberries.

"Or else?" I ask and suddenly my heart beats twice as fast.

He does not answer.

"Say it. Or else? Would you restrain me again?"

Regret crosses his face as if he had actually thought about it and I notice he has raised his arm.

He has no malice, a voice inside me preaches. He is sick.

"Sky and wind," I say softly but firmly like a code word. "Don't boss me around!"

Without blinking, he looks at me and lowers his arm again. "Why? Do you actually want to go after him?"

"If only to apologize for your tone."

"You like him a lot."

I take a deep breath. "Of course I like him. He carried you for hours when I was desperate even though he thought I was trying to steal his soul."

"Well—you stole his heart. I have no idea what's worse," Bren says somberly.

"He nourished you when you were sick and put aside his own needs."

"Oh, yes, he's a good man. Everything I'm not!" Bren kicks a dirt clod in front of his boot. "I saw you laughing down by the quarry. You were happy, exuberant at that moment. I understand that you prefer him over me, Lou. After all, he never kidnapped you. He's basically a bit like me—only without the trauma. You'll get your adventure with him, too, so you have no more need for me." He looks at me as if I cheated on him with Amarok.

I can only shake my head. I would have done anything for him, still would. "I don't prefer him over you!" It hurts me when he talks like he doesn't believe in my love. "But I'll still go now, Bren, I have to take these raspberries to Thea. She wants to bake a cake."

Bren swallows hard, his Adam's apple bulging. "Then go…to Thea or Amarok," he says in a voice that disperses like ash in the wind.

The roughness and softness of it touches a spot in my soul that is completely unprotected. My heart beats faster with longing and the pain of not being allowed to give in now even if he hasn't grabbed me and held me this time.

"Lou!" he stops me as I am about to leave. "I didn't deliberately spy on you. I was worried about what was keeping you so long, that's all. So, I went looking for you." I look into his eyes and he looks back seriously. "You weren't at your usual gathering spot, so I went up to the top of the ravine and saw you hurrying and holding hands." He holds out his hand to me, but I stop. "What am I supposed to think, Lou? Please tell me if you know."

If that is his reasoning, I have to agree with him. He must think I'm attracted to Amarok. What if I saw him holding hands with Thea?

"Amarok is so much more perfect than I am. He would be the right one. If you seriously think about it, you have to agree with me. There's no future for us anyway."

His last words come as a shock. I thought we had buried this topic along the lonely train tracks in the middle of nowhere. "Why do you say that?" I whisper abjectly. This time, I reach out to him and he takes my hand in his, holding it tightly yet so tenderly, I could cry. It's merely a tiny touch between us and yet it penetrates deep into my body, my soul, and my heart. I feel the bond between us fluttering as if in a storm, billowing, arching, and stretching, but not breaking—never breaking.

"Come here, Lou," Bren whispers, so I set the bowl down and wrap my arms around him, allowing myself to be pulled against his chest. But despite the warmth, I'm still afraid that one day, he might leave me. Despite his unconditional love. Or just because of it.

Feeling miserable, I go to Thea and bring her the bowl of raspberries. She gives me a strange look but doesn't say anything about my condition. This seems to be a Navapaki trait. They don't ask, instead, they wait until you're willing to share. Of course, for Bren and me, that's a blessing because no one asks intrusive questions.

I silently help Thea with the cake, which she finally places in a fireproof bowl on the embers of the fireplace, and play another game of backgammon with Yoomee. The board is homemade as are the game pieces made of bone.

When I return to our teepee with two pieces of raspberry cake, it is already dark and the sky is full of twinkling stars. Night falls fast in Manitoba and the Indian tents glow like yellow lanterns from the oil lamps inside.

Only ours is dark. For a terrified second, I fear Bren is gone, but then I come to my senses.

Of course he didn't leave. Why should he? We argued, that's normal. That's part of relationships, I reassure myself. After all, it's what we both wanted, a relationship with normal problems. He's probably hanging out with Coven.

Still, a voice inside me questions if these are indeed common problems. Ordinary couples aren't wanted by the police unless their names are Bonnie and Clyde. Bren and I have different issues to contend with. How will we fill the time before we return to civilization, if we ever can? Shall we grow potatoes and herbs like the Navapaki? They might even give us some seeds to take with us. But wouldn't that make them suspicious? To them, we are adventurers who got lost and they provide something to help us along the way. So far, no one has said anything because Bren was injured and I'm not able to walk long distances because of my ankle. But that's likely to change soon. Besides, Darrow's father will eventually return from town and who knows if he has heard about us in the media. I have no idea if our case is still the number one topic in the press.

In the darkness, I enter the teepee and put the cake down to light the kerosene lamp when I hear Bren's voice.

"Don't, leave it unlit."

I turn with a start. I didn't see him in the blackness. He sits in the far corner, which is reserved for the most experienced warriors by the Indians, but he gets up and comes to me. He's only wearing shorts and his freshly washed hoodie.

"Are you still angry?"

Earlier, after the hug, I left without another word and he didn't follow me.

I shake my head. "No, there's no reason."

"There are a thousand reasons."

"Why do you keep saying we have no future? It makes me sick," I reply honestly. We've shared one mind and dreamed the same dream. "We've been through so much and yet you keep repeating it."

"Maybe it's how I protect myself."

"How can you protect yourself with a comment like that?"

"I don't know." He sighs heavily. Moonlight falls on the right side of his face through the tent's smoke vent, transforming his features into light and dark.

With hanging arms, I stand near the entrance. "Remember what Jay said? That you have to understand things to make them less frightening?" For a moment, I think of my brothers, of the memories I've pushed aside during the excitement of the past few days. Like Grey and the rest of my life. Everything is so far away, but during these seconds, there is a flicker of sadness inside me. I laugh unexpectedly, remembering the first time Jay said that about understanding.

"What is it?" Bren asks promptly, but he seems to enjoy my laughter.

I shrug. "I don't know why, but when I was six or seven, I was terrified of the red-and-black nutcracker in our living room." I picture the hideous jaw in my mind. "Liam bought it at some school flea market. Jay disassembled it one afternoon when we were alone; arms, legs, upper and lower jaw, and all the mechanical stuff too. Afterwards, I put it back together and understood how it worked." I smile at Bren. "Okay, technically it didn't work quite as well afterward…you almost had to dislocate its arm and Liam threw a slight tantrum, but… I was no longer scared of it."

"You're comparing my behavior to a nutcracker," Bren says, so genuinely amazed that I can't help but love him even more.

"No." The fear drains from me the more we talk. "It was simply a memory."

"Maybe I keep saying it because I'm so scared." Bren walks toward me and I don't have time to think about anything anymore.

He kisses me tenderly but longingly, and a hot-cold shiver runs through my body. I feel his warm tongue deep in my mouth, and when he kisses me this way, there is no room in me for questions, no room for anything but him. In those moments, I know we belong together and that nothing else matters even if we don't know what's going to happen next. He loves me more than his life and I love him more than my life. Nothing else matters.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the bond between us billow, enveloping us like a silk parachute.

"I would never leave you, Bren," I whisper as our lips part again and look deep into his eyes. "Never. Not for Amarok, not for anyone."

Bren picks me up like he hasn't been hurt and carries me to the back of the tent. He sits with me on his lap. A sweet, almost painful tugging sensation runs through my abdomen.

"I know. When I think straight, I know, Lou."

"Best to forget all this," I whisper, pressing my lips against his. They're still hot from our kiss and I'm dizzy with longing, as if it's been months since we made love.

Bren's fingers slip under my dress and gently close around the curve of my breasts. "I want you, Lou," he says roughly in my ear. "Here and now."

I giggle, suddenly embarrassed. "We're in the middle of the Navapaki camp and there's no door to lock. What if someone comes in or hears us?"

"No one will come. Everyone's eating right now," he murmurs against my neck. He kisses me again, passionately and full of wild, unbridled desire.

The yearning in my abdomen grows. It burns. Everything within me begs to feel him inside me. I press closer against him and he groans, burying his head in the crook of my neck and shoulder. His rapid breathing bursts against my skin and a tingling sensation spreads over the area, circling like a stone thrown into water.

A demanding sound comes out of my mouth. Bren grabs my butt with both hands and grips me even tighter. I feel every one of his tense muscles, and when he kisses me again, I'm absolutely lost. The darkness of the teepee envelops us and the coolness of the night caresses my skin. Somehow, he manages to take off my panties and his shorts, then picks me up and slides me over him.

I gasp because it's happening too fast. Finally, I sit firmly on top of him, encompassing him completely, deep within me. We don't move for a moment. He pulls my braids back, holds the back of my head, and kisses me again so intensely that everything around me starts spinning.

"I love you, Lou," he whispers breathlessly in my ear once his lips let go of me. Sweet intoxication rushes through me, hunting my heart. I'm dazed by his love, by his desire.

He wraps both arms around me like ropes, capturing me with his body in a possessive, passionate way that sends me floating away. Closing my eyes, I cross my feet behind his back to connect us even deeper and feel his heated skin against mine. This is all I need. He and I.

Everything after that I experience as if in a trance. Bren grabs my hips and sets the rhythm. I glow, burn, melt, surrendering everything to his movements and the heat that washes over me far too quickly, making me gasp. And then, as everything dissolves around me, he holds me down tightly. His arms hold me fast and I feel the rhythmic twitch, hear him whisper my name. Words like the wind. Lou-isa. Lou-isa. His head falls forward, his cool forehead resting against mine.

I'm shaking all over and Bren holds me tight.

He can never leave me. Never.

That night, we lie entwined on Bren's mat, a fur covering us, without talking. Words are not needed, maybe there even aren't any for this kind of state. And maybe it's fate that tonight, the wolves are howling especially loud. I think about Grey, my dear little wolf, who now roams the woods, lonely and lost, if he hasn't starved to death. I experience happiness and sadness. Love and pain. I miss my brothers.

I get up in the middle of the night and grab my phone out of the trunk where I stowed Liam's shawl and my belongings when we first arrived.

Since there is no signal here, I switch it on without hesitation. I sit wrapped in a fur in front of the teepee, looking at the photos: Jay, the dreamy writer, Liam, the eternal seeker, and Avy, our heart, who brings us all together again, if necessary, with a few lemon cookies.

I don't look at the picture of Ethan, the knife of his betrayal is still stuck in my back. Because of him, we were forced to run, and because of him, Bren almost died. He will never understand me and I will never forgive him.

I scroll through the pictures and find a photo of our wooden house in Ash Springs with the scrawny apple tree in front and desert sage all around. It seems so long since I've walked the parched ground and sucked in the herbaceous smell. At the beginning of summer, I never thought I would miss it because even though I have Bren now, I long to go back there at this moment. Maybe it's not the house I'm longing for, but a feeling.