Ghost Towns

Thirty Three

 The birds were chirping overhead as Rye awoke, eyes blinking away the bright light. For a moment, Rye just lay in place, staring up at the forest canopy, fixated on glimpses of the perfect blue sky above. She tried to piece together where she was and what had led her there.

From somewhere nearby, the crackle of a fire interrupted the birds, and the sound of gentle humming. Rye rolled onto her side, still dazed from the depth and length of her sleep. She was alone, though someone had tucked a blanket over her sometime during the night. Every muscle in her body protested as she sat up, stretching her arms out and then rubbing her eyelids.

It was always that moment after the fact when you felt the ache of what had happened to you. She rubbed a palm absently over her shoulder, and then, with great effort, heaved herself into a sitting position.

Rye was not as alone as she had initially assumed. A small fire was burning between the trees a few paces away, and the stranger who had untied her blindfold stood over it, poking at something within the flames with a stick. Around Rye were blankets, lazily strewn about, resting on the ground or on the nearby log. Jax - and Maria, Hugh, and the girl - were nowhere in sight.

She stood slowly, and hobbled over the fire sitting on a fallen log. The wolf glanced up at the sound of her, smiling. He brushed off his palms on his pants, setting the stick aside. There was a pan sitting over the embers of the flames, with some sort of meat frying in it. Rye eyed it with longing. She couldn't tell how long it had been since she'd last eaten.

"Luna," the wolf said, inclining his head respectfully.

Rye's insides fluttered a bit strangely at that. "Please, it's Rye," she said, "and good morning."

"Rye," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself any earlier. I'm Corey,"

"I figured you were the one Jax was talking about," Rye said.

Corey skewered a strip of the sizzling meat on a stick he had sharpened. He handed it to Rye, and she took it with a grin. It was delicious.

"Did you bring this from Goldcrest?" Rye asked absently, realizing belatedly that Jax and his crew hadn't set foot in Goldcrest all this time. "It's chicken, right?"

Corey smiled somewhat apologetically. "Rabbit," he corrected, "but it's fresh! Jax caught a couple this morning, and he must be on patrol now,"

Rye nodded. "I wondered where he disappeared to. And the others."

Corey took a bite of his own breakfast, savoring it before he spoke. "Ellie and Maria went to refill our canteens. Hugh must be around somewhere. Perhaps getting wood."

"And they left you with the cooking," Rye surprised herself with how easy it was to joke with Corey. And to think that only days ago, she'd have never thought of herself capable of laughing again.

Was it possible to move forward so quickly? She could feel the dark remnants of the Onyx dungeon still stirring within her, a black shadow across her mind and heart. And yet, dirty blonde and blue-eyed Corey seemed so alive that it was contagious.

Perhaps he saw something in Rye's expression that hinted at her thoughts, because his face fell slightly before he said, "I'm sorry that we couldn't come for you earlier. It must have been terrifying, being alone in that place,"

Rye gave him a small, sad smile. "It's over and I'm out now." It was easy to say in the sunlight.

Corey took another bite of the rabbit, still frowning a little.

"So, you're from the Crescent Creek pack?" Rye asked, uncomfortable with the tension.

"Yeah," Corey's eyes lit up once again. "Well, used to be. I was young when it broke apart."