As Renfrew sped towards Inverness, Karla’s head bounced with every bump, colliding with the rear window. Under her gaze, the meadows shed their glow and grayed as the sun sank deep beneath the hills. Renfrew’s CD player had stopped playing its raucous fare. No one spoke.
Karla hovered in a semi-sleep, having given up her longing for the roots to come take her. And whether she had schemed for it or not, that very act of giving up had provided the roots their cue, luring them after her.
They came and took her without warning or fanfare, dragging her over the edge and through the void in one smooth swipe, dumping her onto a sandy trail reeking of Reaper.
She lay on her back on the pitted plains, staring up at alien stars arranged in unfamiliar constellations, and waited for her senses to pull together and make her whole. Always, some parts of her senses and soul lagged behind in these transitions. She had learned be patient over many crossings.
Now that she was here in the Liminality, she almost regretted wishing for it. How was being plopped down in this dark wilderness alone any better than hunting for James in Scottish church basements? At least there, they were guaranteed to find him. He might not even be here in this world.
“James?” She called out, just in case he might be closeby. It was a long shot, but this was where they had last seen each other. He might have returned to wait for her.
She recalled him pointing off the deck of that heaving Reaper at a dark dimple in the hillside, a box canyon. That was to be their designated meeting place. She understood the logic of the choice. It was distinctive, easily spotted from afar, even at night. It was off the main Reaper track, but not too far, to allow them to follow the trail of spoor to Frelsi. It held a water source and perhaps the possibility shelter in caves and overhangs.
Alone, in the deep of night, the place held very little appeal. Its darkness gaped at her like the eye socket of a skull. In contrast, far up the side of a hill there were patches of glow that curved like static wildfire. It could only be Frelsi, and it looked so close. Just a few hours walk and she could be there. The sight of it made her spirit leap with hope.
But she had to do her due diligence and check for James in the canyon. She got up, shook her nakedness free of grit and walked towards the darkness, her heart cowering, retreating with every step. She was not one to be afraid of the dark. How many nights she had roamed the drizzled gloom of Inverness alone, taking alleyways and garden paths to avoid any chance of being spotted by Papa or his minions?
But this was different. There were no doors to knock on if she got into a tight spot. No kindly grandmothers with a fondness for waifs. She was on her own here, exposed to whatever lurked in those deep shadows.
And it wasn’t the known that concerned her. She could deal with Reapers and Dusters and giant insects. What chilled her more were the things she hadn’t considered. Things she did not yet know existed. Because the Liminality had surprised her before with strange, new terrors. And it was a given that it would surprise her again.
But her stride did not flag as she marched into the darkness, joining up with a lazy creek and follow its bank deep into the hollow, its steep walls flaring out like the jaws of a trap, sheathing the bottom in blackness. The joyful trickle of a slender waterfall provided the only consolation. She couldn’t remember her heart ever beating this fast.
She reached the edge of the still pond, its surface as inscrutable as a pool of crude oil in the feeble starlight. She called out.
“James?”
Her voice echoed faintly against the walls of the box canyon. She shouted louder.
“James!”
There came no answer. She stood and waited, clutching her arms against her chest. She wasn’t cold as much as exposed. And she just didn’t have it in herself to attempt to Weave anything here, particularly if it meant crawling into some pit to fetch some roots.
A breeze kicked up and rippled the pond. The shrubs across the way shivered their leaves. She supposed she could scratch together some sort of shelter of sticks and branches but this place spooked her. She couldn’t stay here, not by herself, not surety of seeing James.
She would feel better on the move. Mobility would negate the sense that unseen things were sneaking up on her in the night, surrounding her, preparing an ambush. What sorts of things they might be, she had no idea, but she thought she could sense them gathering, and she wasn’t about to wait around for them to introduce themselves.
Reapers bellowed on the plains. They were probably escort patrols, but there was no way she could be certain. They might just as well be Reapers from the tunnels below emerging to hunt down stray meat.
And even if they did bear decking and crews, some primal instinct inside her prevented from seeking them out. It just seemed wrong to approach any Reaper voluntarily, against her human nature. She would rather walk to Frelsi by herself.
She found a flat outcrop, took a rock and blindly scratched a simple message for James. She kissed the stone and laid it down gently, turned her back to the hollow and set out for the plains.
