CLOSER THAN BEFORE
Ambeal could barely breathe, barely hear, barely see. Eyes blinded with tears, ears deaf to anything but the sound of the wind, whispering past her as they rode, fingers numb and frozen to the reins, she rode. On and on and on, into the growing night.
“I can't believe he said that,” she said aloud. She sobbed. Each pace seemed to multiply the sadness in her, so that, as she reached a place where the trees were thinner, the light gleaming through the closely growing tree trunks, she was hopeless with grieving.
“Alf,” she whispered. She could not forget how she had loved him, how they had been together. How close they seemed, until this moment. Now, they were irredeemably irreconcilable, or so it seemed.
“I have been so stupid,” she whispered. The silence in the woods gave no answer – misty and waiting, it seemed to sense her tiredness, sense the trauma in her soul. Come to me, it whispered. Just sit down here awhile, in the cold. Let go. In the morning you will have frozen, and all your troubles will be over. Sit down awhile.
Ambeal shook her head. “No,” she said loudly. She would not give in to that temptation. She would ride on. She would not sit down and die. Not now.
“I cannot believe I was so stupid,” she sighed.
She had really thought that she loved Alf, and he loved her. It seemed he thought her a burden, something he had ended up shackled to. He should never have volunteered to help Brodgar out of his betrothal. He should have let his friend either extricate himself, or marry her.
“At least Brodgar would have the satisfaction of doing his duty,” she said bitterly. “Alf, it seems, cannot wait to get away.”
She set her horse moving at a walk and, together, they headed out of the trees. On the moorland beyond, the cold cut through her velvet cloak like a knife. The wind whistled over the scrubby landscape, no protection and no shelter from it to speak of.
“We should go back,” she whispered to her horse.
It was then that she heard it. The distant howl of wolves. Her blood froze. Usually dwelling in the deeper woods, of late with the cold of winter they had become desperate, sating their wild hunger on the sheepfolds of the valley farmers. Any traveler out in the woods at night was prey to them.
“We should go back,” she said again. Her horse gave a low snort. He had heard them too, she knew. His ears swiveled as he took in the sound and he stamped again, eager to be off.
“I agree,” Ambeal said, patting his neck. It helped her to calm herself, too, the shared contact. “We should go.”
They set back along the path down which they came.
Or they thought they did. As they ventured on into the dense, tangled woodlands, Ambeal felt her blood run cold. All the trees looked the same. How was she going to find her way back? By day, direction was easier to fathom. At night, she could be facing North, or East, or...she turned, looking behind her. The trees there were, to all intents and purposes, the same as those facing her, an impenetrable wall of chalk gray tree trunks, drawn on a background of ink-black night. She felt her heart thump as the desperation of her plight sank in.
“What must we do?” she whispered as again, that terrible howling echoed through the trees, rising and insistent, keening of hunger dissatisfied and the long-lasting cold. “What can we do?”
Her horse snorted, his ears twitching back and forth again. She leaned forward on the pommel of the saddle, feeling real fear numb her. What could she do? They had two choices. They could search for the way back or they could stay, try and find a place to hole up for the night. She had no idea which to choose.
Another howl shivered through the silence, making all her hair stand on end. This time, her trusty horse chose for her, walking solidly forward on a path through the treeline. She nodded.
“We'll go home. Or try.” How?
The sound of distant wolves filling her with numbness, the silence of the forest unnerving and misleading, Ambeal let her horse walk himself back between the trees, hoping against hope that he had some uncanny instinct that she lacked, and would know the way in the utter black of night.
“When I was sad and frightened as a girl, I would sing,” she reminded herself. It had raised her spirits and given her hope. She cleared her throat.
“As I wa-alked on the bridge, o'er the bonny, bonny, burn...” she sang, an old local song about a farmer's daughter who fell for a tradesman, “I sa-aw his handsome smile...”
She was focused on the words now, the lilting melody, warm and comforting, totally at odds with the place she found herself. Her horse seemed to settle, too. His ears still flicked back and forth, but he walked evenly on, seeming to like to listen to her singing.
“And the fa-armer, did say...on that long and fateful da-ay...”
Her voice wavered as she reached the point in the ballad where the father refuses to grant his daughter the right to marry her love. In some ways, it is my story. She couldn't remember what happened next.
She cleared her throat and sang on. “He said...go, you knave, and he turned away...”
Footsteps. There was someone moving through the woodlands. She tensed. Outlaws? It was a small possibility. If they had found some way to keep away the wolves – mayhap with lighting a fire – then they would surely thrive in these woods, where the verderers themselves seldom ventured from a path.
What should I do? Carry on, or stay still?
She stopped, and waited. The footsteps had stopped.
Probably a deer, she told herself. Moving through the brush. I likely disturbed it. Count to ten and carry on.
She forced herself to stay where she was and count to ten. If the noise were a person, they would start to move again, seeking her position.
Nobody moved. She sighed. It must be a deer.
“Come on,” she said to her horse gently. “Let's sing some more. I want to see what happens next...”
Chatting to her horse made her calmer and it calmed him, too. They proceeded on in the direction they thought was home.
“And the water sang its song as it washed across the stones...” she sang, getting to the chorus again. “It sang merrily and clear, hey-o, hey-o...”
She tensed. There was the sound again. Something moving. It was definitely feet. Horse, or man? She had no idea. All she knew was that, as she moved, it moved. Whatever it was, it was tracking her.
“What if it's a wolf?” she said aloud. Her horse seemed unconcerned and she hoped that, were it a wolf, he would know and recognize the scent. Even so.
“And a hey derry day, and a very merry day...” she sang.
“And through the town we go!”
Ambeal froze as the chorus was finished, in another voice. A soft male voice, clear and warm, perhaps even better at carrying the tune than her own.
“Alf?” she shouted.
“Ambeal!”
She was laughing now, and crying too, as he rode out of the woods to her right. He had been the tracker. She felt her heart soar with joy.
“Alf!” she shouted again. She rode to him and they dismounted, and together, laughing and crying, they embraced and kissed again.
“Don't ever go away again,” he whispered, stroking her hair as he smiled down into her face. “I was so, so sad. So wretched...”
“Alf, Alf!” Ambeal chuckled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I cannot believe it! How can you be here, so loving? I thought we...” she choked, unable even to speak it now that they were here, and safe, and friends once more.
“You thought what?”
“I thought you hated me!”
Alf stared down at her. She saw his warm brown eyes cloud with confusion, and his smile was a tremulous thing, like crocuses in snowfall. “Ambeal!” he said, amazement thinning his voice. “How could you?”
She giggled. It seemed so stupid now. So surreal – why had they even fought?
“Ambeal, my dear,” he said again. He hugged her close to his chest and she felt his arms, warm, safe and comforting, enfold her close. “How could you think I ever could hate you?”
“I don't know,” she chuckled. Her relief was making her feel lightheaded. She clung to him, swaying a little, to steady herself. “I am sorry I did, though.”
“Oh, Ambeal,” he sighed. “No, never apologize for that! The fault was mine...I should have trusted you. Should have asked you. I thought...” He shook his head. “No matter now. Nothing means anything...only that you are safe. And here, with me.” He kissed her brow.
Ambeal sighed, held him close, and then, gently lifted her lips to his.
They clung together, and she felt her heart settling to how it should be. Then they mounted and rode on, together and quiet, her heart filled with love again, back to the footpath and back home.