Wildwood

2. For Every Action

For Every ActionThe trail to the ridge is narrow and overgrown, and runs along the top of a ravine. Dad and Teague take the lead. Our horses pick their way carefully down the path, trees encroaching from the left, and the ground giving way to a growing drop on the right. The river roars and spits at us from the chasm floor. Teague spooks as a fallen branch sweeps downstream, spinning in the frothy current.

“Easy, boy,” Dad calls out, his voice low and gravelly. Teague settles beneath my dad, but his tail still arches with awareness.

Harbor’s head swivels from her neck, and her ears are pricked so hard they nearly touch. I step deeper into my stirrups and stretch taller in the saddle, preparing to slow or steady Harbor if she bolts.

“We should’ve worked them in the arena first; ridden some steam off,” I shout over the noise of the river.

“We’ll be fine,” he answers. “They’ll be worn out by the time we get to the top.”

We continue the ride in silence, each of us focused on our horses. The climb steepens, and the terrain becomes rocky. The roar of the river fades with the increasing distance to the bottom. The trees begin to thin out; the few that remain are tall and spindly. The look-out point becomes visible ahead, and already we can see where the tips of far off mountains cut into the cloudy horizon like the teeth of a saw.

With miles around us visible and the sound of the river faded to a whisper, Harbor finally relaxes, stretching her neck out low in front of her. I pat her sweaty shoulder and glance ahead at Teague. His back legs and flanks are covered in white lather. Rivets of sweat dribble down his cheeks.

“Teague still seems pretty keyed up,” I say.

“We’ll both sleep good tonight,” Dad says with a grunt as he blocks Teague’s sudden sideways movement with his leg. Teague bows away from the pressure and nearly crab-steps into a tree.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Dad says to his horse. “I don’t know that you’d survive a single day in the wild.” Teague snorts and shakes his head.

I smile at the two of them. “You treat that horse like he’s the son you never had.”

“Who says he’s not?” Dad takes the reins in one hand and strokes Teague’s dripping neck with the other.

Dad reaches the summit first, and moves Teague over so I can stand Harbor beside him. The green of the valley spills out below us. Overhead, heavy clouds skirt across the sky. Sunlight and shadows play tag on the emerald floor. I watch a shadow race to the end of the green, and then grow as it climbs the wooded foothills bordering the other side. Teague drops his head and searches the ground for something to nibble on, finally relaxed enough to be interested in potential food.

“See, there can’t be a world in the clear. The rays of sun pass right through.” Dad points to a beam of light that pierces through the cloud cover and turns a column of clear to gold. “There’s not nothing there. Or there’s already enough there. Whichever way you want to look at it.”

“That lady really got you worked up, huh?” I peer at him.

An acknowledging smile pulls at the corners of Dad’s mouth. “It’s not that.” He stares out across the valley. “It’s your mom, and how people like that woman pray on sensitive, innocent souls like her.”

“But you said——”

“I know what I said.” He pauses. “Sometimes, this world finds innocence, and does whatever it can to save it, grow it, and help it last. But other times, it tracks the innocent like a wolf tracks a lamb, and when people target the innocent at heart…” He pauses and shakes his head. “It just upsets me, is all.”

“Dad——”

“Hold on, now Tanzy. I’m not finished.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I want you to go chase down whatever dream you have. Whatever it is that makes you happy to get out of bed in the morning, you go after it, and don’t you let anyone or anything stop you. Distance, time, stepping stones, setbacks–they’re all a part of it. You can make mistakes. You can take wrong turns and the long way. But if you get your sights set on something, something that really, truly moves you, don’t you dare quit. You promise me?”

I stare at him. My eyes and throat burn. “I promise.”

“Good. Now let’s get off this damn ridge before the storm rolls in.” He pulls his helmet off and rakes his fingers through his auburn hair. “Lord have mercy I haven’t sweat like this in a minute.”

I stare past him and out across the clear, wondering if there’s a dream he gave up on, or if this is his dream; and he has everything he’s ever wanted. I nearly ask him, but hesitate when a gap in the clouds allows the sunlight to beam through. Between the moisture in the air and the position of the sun, a rainbow blankets the valley. The colors intensify, becoming iridescent. I lean forward, my breath in my throat. Something big and dark passes across the face of it. I glance up at the sun, but it’s still in plain view.

“Dad, look.” I point. “What is that?” I whisper.

“What is what?” He drops his helmet back on his head and follows my gaze.

“That.” I look from the rainbow to my dad and back again. The colors have begun to fade, but they’re still plain to be seen.

“What do you see?” He frowns.

The dark thing circles, then swoops upward.

“Dad, that! Look at that!”

“Tanzy, I don’t see anything,” he says, frustration punctuating his words. Teague whirls, excited by the sudden shift in energy. “Whoa, boy. Easy,” Dad clamps down on the reins and then eyeballs the ledge, which is precariously close. Beyond it, the rest of the rainbow vanishes, and the moving shadow fades into the dark places on the valley floor.

“I thought you knew better than to startle a green horse, much less on the edge of a cliff,” he grumbles.

“Sorry,” I murmur, flushing. What had I just seen? Why hadn’t he seen it to? Or was he not as impressed with the rainbow effect as I was? That shadow though… it moved differently than the dark places cast on the ground by the passing clouds.

“No, no. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He heaves an exhale. “A horse has to get used to unexpected things happening around it. I just like a little more wiggle room than this when they do.”

Cold wind sails across the ridge. A spritz of early rain patters the ground, and the valley is swallowed up in the shadow of thick storm clouds. Lavender lightning forks across the sky.

“Come on. It’s about to get ugly.” Dad wheels Teague to face down the path. Teague bounces sideways, eager to have turned toward home. “Don’t tell your mom I let us get caught in the rain. I’ll never hear the end of it,” he calls over his shoulder.

I snort, imagining the face she’d make. If she’d been here, she would’ve known exactly how long we had before we needed to start back down the trail. It’d be really nice if we were all here together. Maybe if she saw the valley and how beautiful it is, she’d start riding again.

“Hey Dad, do you think we could convince Mom to ride up here with us for your birthday? I think this is a pretty great new tradition.” I shield my face from the sting of rain.

“What was that, Tanzy?”

“I said…” A flash of blue light draws my eye to the right, at the same time Harbor jumps left. Is lightning already that close? No thunder comes. The only sounds are the rain drumming the earth, and the growing hum of the river. The clear place above a tree branch distorts and ripples, outlined in a sapphire glow. The blue fades to deep purple and then inky black, and begins to spread inward, vibrating and grainy like static on a television screen as it fills in the space. I don’t know what it is, but Teague won’t like it.

“You said what?” Dad prompts.

“Dad, stop,” I call out.

“What’s wrong?” Dad twists in the saddle to look back at me, so he doesn’t see the crackling black not ten feet away from his horse, or that Teague is lifting his head, pricking his ears. Teague’s haunches tense, and he coils deep into his hocks like the compression of a metal spring. I suck in a breath, and the brisk air pricks my chest from the inside, when the darkness tumbles from the tree and fills the narrow trail.

Dad rights himself, trying to stay center as Teague shifts beneath him, but he’s too late. Teague rears to full height, striking the air, and rips the reins out of Dad’s hands. Dad throws his weight forward, encouraging his horse to land, and claws for the reins, but they’ve sailed over the top of Teague’s head, and dangle out of reach. My heart pounds in my chest. The trail is narrow, the rocky footing slick as wet glass. If Teague takes off, Dad will have no way to stop him, and the horse will almost certainly fall.

“Dad, jump off!” I scream. “Jump off!”

Teague lands, and bounds straight upward, his nose on the ground, his spine curled in a wave. Dad wraps his legs around Teague’s barrel, his empty stirrups swinging with Teague’s explosion. Teague’s hooves touch down again, and his steel shoes slide on a stretch of flat, wet rock at the same instant that the stirrup irons strike his sides. He scrambles and leaps forward.

“Dad!” My scream floods my ears and echoes in my brain. I know it’s my voice, but it sounds foreign and far off. The world slows down. My heart pounds on the base of my throat. He leans back, ripping at Teague’s mane. The lip of the ravine is two strides away. One stride.

“Jump off!” I shriek. Harbor peddles backwards, and I realize I’m squeezing her reins. I kick her sides, urging her forward, desperate to catch any piece of Teague in hopes of slowing him down.

Teague leaps into the air, and disappears over the side. I blink once, disbelieving that the trail is empty, that Teague and Dad are not on it, that Teague just jumped off the edge of a cliff with my father on his back.

They’re gone… They’re gone.

“Dad!” I fling myself from Harbor, straining to hear them hit the water. “Dad!” My pulse hammers against my palms. My legs wobble beneath me as I sprint to the spot they went over. Below, the swollen river is brown with silt and frothy with turbulence. There’s no sign of them. Could he have landed on the bank somehow?

“Dad! Dad! Can you hear me?” A rumble of thunder drowns out my voice. The sky opens, and sheets of rain pour down. I steal a glimpse down the path, but whatever I’d seen is gone. Had it been real? What if it hadn’t been there, and hadn’t been what spooked Teague? What if… what if I did?

I grab hold of a sapling and throw my legs over the side, preparing to slide to the bottom. A dark place coasts under the surface of the water. I squeeze the skinny tree trunk as new fear washes over me, when Teague’s head and neck emerge from the water. I nearly call out for him. Then Teague glances off of a jut in the bank, spins around, and slides back under the brown water. My stomach lurches, and the air leaves my lungs.

“Dad!” I lean forward, searching the water for any sign of him. My heart hammers against my ribs. I lean farther out, searching for the best way down. The heel of my boot slips in the mud. I clutch at the tree, but my fingers lose their hold of the skinny, slick trunk, and I tumble into the ravine.

Roots and rock tear at my skin as I try to slow myself down. The water rushes toward me, and I pummel through the churning surface. The chill of the river nearly makes me inhale. I twist around, but I can’t tell which way is up. The current slams into my back, sending me into a barrel roll. I curl myself in a ball so my feet are pointed downstream, but the force of the river pushes my helmet over my eyes and nose, and the chin strap digs into my throat. I fumble with the buckle, burning precious seconds of the oxygen I have left. Finally, the helmet releases, and I peel it off my face and let it go.

Starbursts bloom in front of my eyes. I push my arms straight down, forcing my body up. My chest constricts, demanding fresh air. I push up again, and my face breaks through the surface. I gulp in a breath, and am slammed sideways by another wall of water.

“Dad!” I can barely hear myself over the rapids. Water pours into my mouth faster than I can spit it out. I descend a rapid and am sucked back under. I keep my face trained toward the surface so I don’t lose my position. I kick out for anything to push off of. The water is too deep. A new current slams me from the side, and catapults me above the surface. I cough and sputter. My teeth clatter together. “Dad,” I try to shout, but I’m barely taking in enough air to breathe.

Ahead, the river doubles in width until it disappears around a curve. On the right bank is a sliver of a beach. I spin myself around, and swim hard for the patch of dry ground. If I miss it, I won’t have enough energy to find another way out. My legs flail behind me, and I paddle as fast as I can, but the current is still too strong. I’ve barely shifted my position, and I’m nearly even with the bank. I’d have to swim straight across to reach it in time.

My boots and jacket have filled with water. The added weight drags me further down with every movement. Another wave smacks me in the face. I gasp and wipe at my face, trying not to lose sight of the bank. The river carries me down a short drop, and pushes me back below the surface before I can draw a new breath. An icy current tosses me sideways, and I lose my position. Under water, I search for a hint of day light, but the water is cloudy and I’m moving too fast. The second I see a bright spot, I’m swept out of reach.

My lungs throb. Thick cold permeates my core. My arms flail along with the current, and my legs barely kick out behind me. I stretch my fingers above me, hunting for air, and find none. Even though everything in my mind screams not to, my mouth opens, any my lungs release the stale air. I close my eyes. The heaviness turns into the sensation of weightlessness, and I feel like I’m flying.

As darkness closes in around me, something solid slides around my waist and jerks me up right. Dad’s here. The thought sets my nerve endings on fire, and ignites one last ounce of fight inside me. I open my eyes and give one last kick. The water turns from murky brown to tan, and then I burst through the surface. I gasp in a breath, and then another, the world around me spinning. Two strong hands take hold of my shoulders and steer me forward. Grit and water speckle my eyes and make it hard to focus. I blink clear for half a second. Directly ahead of us is a short, flat bank. My feet contact the river bed, and a sob of relief escapes me.

“We made it,” I mumble through tears. Dad releases me. I stumble forward on shaking legs for three steps until the give out beneath me, and I plunge into the river up to my shoulders. I jab my fingers into the riverbed, anchoring myself in place. I heave for several seconds, emotion and exhaustion coming out of me in choked cries. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.

I drag myself forward. The bank is slimy and covered in rotting leaves and debris, and the wind and rain batter my trembling body. I crawl to the high side of the beach, shielded from the driving rain by a fallen tree. I scoot to the side to leave a place for Dad in the meager shelter, and then turn back to look at him. The bank is empty,

“Dad?” I swing my gaze up stream and rub my eyes, certain he’ll appear. “Dad!” The word is a razor in my throat. I lurch to my feet and stumble to the edge of the water. He was just with me, wasn’t he? He saved me. He pulled me out of the water. So where is he?

I shrug out of my soaked jacket and step ankle deep in the water. This placid spot in the river lasts all of about twenty feet before the rapids begin again. My heart accelerates and cool dread snakes through me. I can’t go back out there. My knees give out and I catch myself with my hands.

My head swims with possibilities. Dad is the strongest man I know. He could raft this whole river on his back if he had to. Couldn’t he? Maybe he went for help… he got me to a safe bank and he went for help.

But what if he’s not fine? What if…? Even the idea of it digs a hole inside of me.

I stare through the rain at the river, and then look behind me at the wall of earth. I might be able to climb the fallen tree to a better vantage point. I move to the tree, and tried to pull myself up. My muscles tremble with exhaustion. There’s no strength left. There’s no way I will be able to climb out on my own.

What if we both die today, and leave Mom alone? Tears spill from me at the thought of her pacing from wall to wall, staring out the window at the sun every morning, wondering what’s left to be taken away. Had she seen this in the sun, or some hue of caution? Is that why she told us to stick to tradition?

“Help,” I call out, pressing my cheek into the grimy, wet tree. It’s barely loud enough to reach my own ears. “Mom. Mom. Help.”

“Tanzy!” a voice shouts. “Travis! Tanzy!” The sound of it strikes me like an electrocution. I whirl around, grab a branch, and wave it.

“I’m here!” I use everything I have left to yell.

Movement at the top of the opposite bank draws my gaze. A dark horse appears with a rider on its back, holding a trailing Harbor by the reins. I can’t see a face, but the rider’s short limbs and jockey-style position is a dead giveaway; it’s Dana, my father’s assistant who shouldn’t be here. I have never been so glad to see my father’s assistant in all my life. I should’ve known she’d be riding, even on her day off.

“Help! Dana!” I wave my arms, flinging the branch. Harbor turns in my direction and freezes, pulling back on her reins. Dana stops her horse, and follows Harbor’s focus across the river.

She brackets her mouth with her hands to make a little megaphone before shouting: “Tanzy! What happened? Are you okay?”

“I… I’m okay. Dad’s here, too. Do you see him?” I try to answer, but my voice is swallowed up by the roar of the river. My breathing comes fast, and a tremble runs the length of me as I stare at the water, and then peer up the hill.

“I can’t hear you. Stay there. I’m going to get help! Stay right there!”

I drop to the sand, exhausted, and watch the river. If it wasn’t Dad who pulled me out, was it just the current spitting me into the bend? Wouldn’t it have done the same for dad if he came this far? I check the length of the bank again, but it’s still empty.

If it was neither my dad nor the current, what was it? And why did it push me out of the water and not him? I force the thought aside. It didn’t save Dad because he didn’t need it. He must’ve found a way up and out, and is headed back to the barn for help, or he thinks I rode back for help and he’s going to find me. He got out of this river somehow. I know he did.

We’re going to be okay. I hug my knees to my chest, pushing against the tiny hole this thought can’t quite fill all the way up.