Chapter 27

Twenty-Seven

Never in my life have I felt as vulnerable as I do these days, never before has anyone been as close to me as Lou. The fear and joy I have felt when she has approached me on her own accord floats close to the surface. She makes me laugh—and scares me like a child who reaches out for closeness but is afraid of rejection.

Now, even I have no sense of time anymore. The days consist of hours of power marches, during which I carry Lou on my back and occasionally put Grey in my backpack to move faster.

Toward evening, we rest on the shore of the nameless lake and I catch a few salmon. I often find Lou watching me, lost in thought and bathed in yellow-gold evening light, similar to her lawn dance in Ash Springs. We don’t talk much. The interaction between us grows silent. Illusion or reality, I don’t know.

Yesterday, she asked me why I always kept a fire burning at summer camp even in the morning.

“Because of the wild animals,” I replied. “I want to keep them away from camp.”

“Maybe you want to keep something else out,” she murmured as if aware of my need for light and warmth.

It’s a bit like we’re trapped in a delicate bubble. Every furtive glance echoes inside of it without escaping. A strange tension vibrates in the air, intensifying day by day. It raises the hairs on my neck and covers my skin with a web of fire and ice. When Lou and I happen to touch, I feel like the air around us is filled with tiny lightning bolts that don’t hurt. At night, I am often sleepless even though I urgently need to rest. When I do sleep, I dream of Lou’s blue eyes and the many unspoken things I think I see in them. Promises that fly away like shy birds when I get too close. They haunt my nights, my days, and the shimmering shell that surrounds us like a soap bubble.

I’m just scared of what will happen if the bubble bursts.

Today, all Lou and I have to spend the night on is a narrow strip of sand. The edge of the forest has advanced almost to the lake, and in some places, the roots of the willows, birches, and poplars even reach into the water.

I examine the glowing red sky, where a layer of thick clouds is gathering in the north. Hopefully, it won’t start to rain, otherwise, there will be high water and we’ll have to move from the tiny bay into the dense forest. Something that would not be wise considering the population of wolves and rutting bull moose, especially not so close to the lake.

After Lou and I stretch the tarp, I stack half-rotted driftwood and build a makeshift fire for Lou to start Grey’s milk.

When I disappear into the forest to collect birch branches, dusk already covers the water like a hazy veil. For a while, I busy myself with picking up suitable branches and tying them together when Grey jumps up at me. “Well, got enough to eat?” I greet him as he jumps up at me, yipping and wagging his tail happily.

I’m still concerned that the milk powder won’t be enough and that we’re not feeding him enough. He only gets three meals, but he’s strong enough now to endure. Nevertheless, I am afraid he could soon catch his first prey and thereby awaken his hunting instinct. Maybe then he’ll disappear into the woods and we’ll never see him again.

Out of the blue, he jumps over a trunk lying on the ground and ignores me.

I go after him and discover a fresh fox carcass.

“Hey, don’t!” I call to him. “It’ll make you sick.”

Grey lays his ears down, barking as if not realizing there’s a special treat there.

“Forget it, little one!” I tuck the birch branches I’ve picked up under my arm and stomp through the undergrowth, heading back. As a branch cracks loudly under my feet, Grey rushes toward me like greased lightning.

“You’re a little scaredy-cat, you know that?” I tease him affectionately, bending down to pat his head. “You’re probably too scared to run off anyway…” A spruce branch scrapes my cheek as I bend over to look at the bay. Lou is no longer sitting around the campfire. My heart starts to race, but then I spot her near a few raspberry bushes growing on the edge of the forest.

“Dammit!” I curse under my breath, hefting the bulky bundle of wood. Did I seriously think she would try to run away again?

I shake my head at myself and pick my way through deadwood and bushes. I was so relaxed the entire time, but then Lou could hardly walk. She’s still limping, but no longer as badly.

No, she wouldn’t attempt it again, I reassure myself. There’s something that’s keeping her here. She doesn’t say it with words, only with looks.

I’ve almost reached the edge of the forest when I hear a sound that doesn’t belong in the wilderness. Definitely not in the part where I’ve been living for the past three years.

A vague feeling of anxiety rises in me. For a moment, I stand there petrified, listening. Wild geese scream in the air. A few aspen leaves shake above me, but that’s not it. A gentle, steady splash floats downstream across the lake.

It’s not the sound of swans taking off nor that of Canada geese or otters.

Before I even realize that it can only be poachers or tourists in rowboats, snatches of voices break through the twilight. Deep laughter glides across the water like swooping birds, followed by words I don’t understand.

I drop the bundle of firewood on the ground and look toward the lake, but I can’t see anything. The bay is concealed, and instead, I discover Lou. She’s standing ankle-deep in the water next to the drooping branches of a willow tree, looking at a point that remains hidden from me.

An eerie silence settles over me, paralyzes my heart, my tongue, and my legs. She will scream! Only fractions of a second separate me from my nightmare. I’m going to lose her.

Lou, I want to yell, don’t do it! but my throat is closed up and every sensation is numb. I can only stand at the edge of the forest and watch Lou wade further into the water. Soon, she’ll disappear behind the willow and then I’m never going to see her again.

Fear and darkness well up in me. I feel like I’m falling. The little boy pulls me toward him, always deeper down.

No!I yell at him. Not now! Not now or I’ll lose her. You’ll lose her! And you love her! I love her!

The steel-hard, locked spot in my stomach begins to burn. A blazing, uncontrolled inferno. Something inside me reacts. I start to run. With a few leaps, I’m at the willow and take cover under the hanging branches like under a dome. Through the leaves, I see Lou and three canoes, manned by two men each, gliding down the river. Six! There are six of them. I’ve won every fight, but if Lou calls out now, I’ll lose. The power marches every day have drained my strength.

The burning reaches my head, roaring through my senses like a wildfire, turning everything bloodred. I don’t know how I manage to move silently. I feel everything in strangely disconnected sequences: the sand under my feet, then the water, the rising moisture of the lake.

Lou is standing right in front of me, separated only by the leafy curtain of willow branches. She doesn’t notice anything.

Again, the throaty laughter echoes over to us. A few swans flutter up. The last canoe reaches the level of the willow.

I can’t think straight anymore. It’s like that time right before I drugged Lou. This miserable feeling of losing something important if I keep going. Her shy smile. Her gained trust. However, I can’t stop this red burning and the chaos in my head. It consumes everything. Before I can stop myself, I slide through the branches and, from behind her, cover her mouth with my hand. With a hard, merciless jerk, I pull her behind the branches of the willow.