Ghost Towns

Twelve

The rest of the trek was not as easy as Rye had hoped it would be. The ground began to gently slope as they passed between two hills, and the part of the forest that was old, shady, evergreen had faded into birch and aspen. It was unfortunately lush, thick, and difficult to maneuver.

All of the previous night, Rye and Jax had taken turns sitting in front of a tiny fire and keeping watch while the other slept.  When Rye's turn to rest came, she could only hear the distant howling echoing through her head. For most of the night, she had squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the fear blooming inside her like a tree in spring.

In the morning, Jax had reassured her that they were still far from the Onyx lands. And then he had turned to the direction they came from, a hollow expression painted on his face. He said they were far enough from home to be safe.

The irony did not miss Rye. They were somehow safest when they were stranded in the middle of the forest.

They marched on, sometimes in silence. But mostly, they talked, feeling like the wood was large enough to swallow them if they did not make their presence known. Rye talked of Goldcrest and it's tiny houses. It's narrow streets and wildflower gardens. The smell of bread that always blanketed her house, and the sound of laughter that always rang within.

In turn Jax told her about the vegetable plot behind his cabin, and the waterfall just some hours away from his home. He told her about Maria and Hugh and how they'd laughed the first time he's caught a rabbit in one of his traps. They had practically raised him, he said, even when they had no obligation to take him in.

Rye laughed along with him, and swooned when he described his adventures as a boy. How different it was from her own upbringing - to be brought up as one with the trees and the deer and everything else that inhabited the forest. Sure, she had thought it must have been lonely, but when Jax talked about it, he did so fondly. His voice was laced with nostalgia, his hands were animated with his speech, and his face was bright.

But as his stories progressed, there was something that began to shadow his expression, the fondness draining out of his stories. Puzzled, Rye listened on as his voice grew more bitter than sweet, falling quiet until he went silent altogether.

She understood what the switch had been, but lacked the courage to ask. They went on in silence, Jax pushing branches out of Rye's way.

But if course, it was only a matter of time before her curiousity overwhelmed her worry. She tightened her grip on his fingers, and softened her voice, as if either of those things could lessen the blow, "what happened to your parents, Jax?"

He stilled for a moment, and she nearly crashed into him. "Rye." It was less like admonishment than it was a pained plea.

Immediately, she regretted asking, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

The look in his eyes when he glanced back stopped the words in her mouth. There was an array of nameless things in that silver gaze. A range of anger and disappointment and utter hopelessness.

"I'm sorry," she whispered once again.

"Don't apologize," he said, tone carefully neutral. He turned away before he spoke again, so that Rye couldn't see his face, "I don't know," he said, "I don't know what happened to them. I do not think that I'll ever know, really."

Rye pulled him closer by their joined hands. Once again, she had to force herself to let her lower lip go.

He wore such a look on his face that made Rye want to put an arm around him.

Luckily, he saved her before she could do anything stupid, "Rye," he said, soft and thoughtful, "if everyone in Goldcrest sheltered somewhere else, why did you go to the forest?"

Ah, that. Rye didn't even realize she was slowing until he tugged her forward in confusion.

It had been a few hours after sunset when her parents had awaken her. Rye had opened her groggy eyes, she was met with the sight of her mother's face, clouded with fear. And there was her father, standing in the room's narrow doorway shouting at them both to hurry. It had been so hot. As if involuntarily reliving it, a bead of sweat formed on Rye's brow.

"We stepped out through the window," she said, quietly, "the rest of the house was black with smoke and too hot to move through. So I jumped down first and then my parents after me,"

They had circled around to the front of the house, knowing that in any emergency like this, they were to go to the town hall and the mayor's home in the middle of town. Rye remembered that she had glanced at the treeline, at the edge of their yard, and it had been in flames.

What guarantee was there that the muster point would be safe?

It was when they reached the path leading to the street that Rye realized that she had forgotten something very, very important.

"Goldie!" She had cried out, mostly incoherent through her tears. Her father's face paled and her mother gasped. The three of them turned back to the house, consumed by flames now.

"Go to the town square and I'll meet you there," her father said grimly. It was that tone of voice that haunted every one of Rye's nightmares, the one that made her think he didn't expect to really meet them again.

"My mother insisted that she wait for him in the front yard, while I was to go to the town hall and get someone to find blankets, water, and bandages. Who knew what condition the cat was in?" She said, fighting the memories off. She didn't need to feel the flame one more time.

It was when Rye took her first step out of sight that the feeling came over her.

On her sixteenth birthday, Rye had a picnic in the yard. It was a small thing; just her parents and a few if the neighbour kids came. The whole time, there was something itching at her. When everyone had stopped inside to fetch the cake, Rye shook herself out of the strange daze, only to find herself amongst the trees, deep in the forest. She told everyone that she had been trying to catch a butterfly, and had been disoriented in the woods.

She could only wish that it were so simple. So explainable. Something that made sense.

"I was supposed to go get help." She whispered, "Jax... the wood has been calling me for a long time. For years." Like sailors were drawn to the depths of the sea by sirens, Rye was drawn deeply by the forest. And it scared her beyond belief.

"It's happened before, me losing my train of thought and then absently walking straight into the treeline." She whispered, "I felt like I had to be on guard or else it'd lure me to something I wouldn't be able to find my way back from." She paused, "I guess in the end it won out. Whatever it is."

Jax's fingers brushed over her shoulder, tugging back a lock if wayward curls. His eyes were averted and his brows furrowed, clearly in perplexed thought. Rye sighed in relief. So he didn't think she was crazy and he believed what she said.

"Do you feel it now?" He asked, "like you should be going in some other direction?"

She stopped and closed her eyes. Looking inward, Rye searched for that familiar sense of yearning, that urgency to go to what was calling her name.

She frowned. "It's gone," she said. And unbelievably, it was.

"Oh," he said, frowning in confusion too.

Then he threw an arm over her shoulders and drew her in, in some kind of awkward half-embrace, supposedly meant to comfort her about it, as if she were worried.

"Well," he said, "at least that means you wont be running off."

Rye couldn't help but grin.

"Come," he said, smiling, "we're only a few hours away now,"

Absurdly, that made Rye feel a little bit hollow. But she followed him anyway.

***

AN: Sorry lol university started and that means that days mostly just blur together and i forget that time is linear 👍

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