A Dawn of Guardians, Page 5

  We stopped at some rocks at the base of a hill, where the guides handed us sandwiches. We wolfed them down, and then it was time to keep moving.

  “The caves where we will sleep tonight are located on the other end of the island,” Suzanne explained. “And, given that there’s no electricity here, we have to reach there before dark. So we can’t afford to dally.”

  “You definitely don’t want to be caught out here after dark,” Jamie added in a spooky voice.

  I shuddered recalling Mrs. McKenzie’s story and found myself wondering where that tree was where the widow was supposed to have hanged herself—assuming any of the story was true at all.

  After another hour of trekking, we arrived at the border of a wide lake. It stretched out on either side of us for miles.

  I was expecting us to begin walking around it, but our guides had other plans.

  “The fastest way to the caves is straight ahead,” Charlie said. He pointed directly across the lake.

  “You’re saying that we have to swim?” one of the boys asked.

  “I am indeed,” Charlie replied with a grin.

  “What?” I couldn’t help but splutter. “But what will we do with our bags? We won’t be able to take them with us. They’d get ruined!”

  “That’s why we must build a raft,” Jamie said.

  Oh, man.

  Jamie took us to a nearby stretch of trees, where there was, conveniently, a lot of fallen logs. Thick ones too. Perhaps they’d been placed here in advance so that we wouldn’t have to actually start felling the trees. If we did have to do that, God knew how much time it would take. I doubted we would make it to the caves by nightfall.

  The guide instructed us to drag the wood to the edge of the lake, and then we used the string we carried to tie them all together until we’d formed a wide raft, large enough to hold all of our stuff. My back was aching by the time we finished. I stood up straight, stretching, my forehead moist with a sheen of sweat from the sun that still beat down upon us.

  Suzanne pulled out a thicker rope from her bag and tied it to the middle of the front of the raft. Then we all worked together to push the raft into the lake, which was freezing cold.

  Luckily, the lake wasn’t as long as it was wide. I guessed that it would take us maybe ten or fifteen minutes of swimming to get to the other side of it.

  We carefully cooperated to load all of our bags on top of the raft before it was time for us to get into the water.

  “I suggest you strip to your swimwear,” Suzanne said, as she and the guides began tearing off their clothes and laying them upon the rafts to keep them dry.

  Amidst grumbling, most of us removed our clothes and placed them on the raft, except for a few more self-conscious people who decided to swim with their clothes on. After we had all removed our shoes and stowed them near our bags, we ventured into the lake.

  My body broke out in shivers as I immersed myself to my knees. Then I leapt in fully.

  I caught sight of Wes entering a few feet away from me. My eyes roamed his toned chest before I focused straight ahead on the other side of the lake.

  We took it in turns to pull the raft by the rope Suzanne had attached to it, though, as I had guessed, it wasn’t a long swim. I didn’t end up getting a chance to pull it even if I’d wanted to.

  We arrived on the other side and hurried out of the water, our bare feet sinking into the porous ground.

  We pulled the raft onto land and collected our respective clothing and shoes. I dove into my bag for a towel and dried myself off, but there was only so far I could dry my swimwear, so, after putting on my shoes, I was forced to wait a while.

  Some others put on their clothes anyway, but most had the same idea as me, including Wes, who was making his way toward me now. The muscles in his chest flexed as he walked.

  I found myself short of breath as his eyes traveled the length of me. I felt like I might as well not be wearing anything at all.

  “Let’s keep moving!” Suzanne shrilled, to my relief.

  Yes, let’s.

  I was loath to say that the view from the caves was worth all the hassle we’d gone through to get here… but it would have been a lie to say that it wasn’t. We reached the caves just as the sun was dipping in the sky. They were located—to my surprise—right on the beachfront, affording us an unrivaled view of the sea. The waves glimmered in the fading evening light, creating a deep sense of calm, peace after a hectic day.

  We still had work to do though. Quite a bit of work before darkness engulfed us.

  We set up our stuff in a deep cave, which was thankfully dry, and spread out our sleeping bags in rows. Benedict, Julian, Ruby and I set up near the entrance so that we wouldn’t have to trip over a load of people if we needed to relieve ourselves during the night. I had been holding myself in all day, dreading the moment when I would have no choice but to venture out and find somewhere to squat.

  Next, we were tasked with collecting kindling to start a fire. The guides had brought a large pot with them, as well as sachets of instant soup.

  Within the white bags they had handed us before we left were light aluminum cups and spoons, which I supposed we would be eating with.

  After we collected the wood and piled it near the entrance of the cave on the sand, the guides demonstrated how to light a fire with two sticks. Ten minutes later, we found ourselves all sitting around it in a circle, our eyes going hazy from the smoke as it rose higher and higher, until we had before us a full-fledged bonfire.

  The guides placed a large pot containing water and the sachets over the fire.

  “When we go looking for water tomorrow,” Jamie explained, “we’ll head up this mountain.” He pointed directly above us at the looming cliffside. “There are a bunch of pure streams that run near the top, with the most delicious water you’ve ever tasted. I guarantee it.”

  By the time we’d finished our soup, it was dark. The firelight was the only source of light other than the moon and stars. It was a beautifully clear night.

  I noticed Peter retreating into the cave as soon as he finished his meal, his head hung low.

  I eyed Suzanne, who was sitting closest to me.

  “Is Peter okay?” I dared to ask.

  Suzanne shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Well, he just seems a lot more quiet than before.”

  She frowned, and looked back toward the cave he had disappeared into, but made no further comment.

  I was soon distracted from the subject by Wes, who, along with his friend whom I’d spotted talking to Ruby earlier, came to sit by Ruby and me.

  I fell into a conversation with Wes and he started asking me about my hobbies. I was tempted to fetch my flute, but I felt a bit too shy to start playing amidst such new acquaintances. Maybe tomorrow night or the next. We still had plenty of days to go on this trip. I would find ample opportunity.

  I kept glancing at Carrie, who sat opposite us. She threw a look at Benedict every once in a while, but it seemed that he was deliberately ignoring her.

  He let out a loud sigh and, shoving his cup and spoon away, leaned backward. As he stretched out his legs, Suzanne snapped, “What are you doing, stupid boy?”

  Benedict jolted at the admonition and quickly withdrew his legs. Alarmed, I broke off my conversation with Wes and stared at her. Suzanne, like Peter initially, had been nothing but smiles since we’d arrived… I was quite shocked by the way her expression had contorted with not just irritation, but anger.

  “Sorry,” Benedict mumbled. Shaken, he backed himself further away from the fire.

  His legs hadn’t even been that close. Not nearly close enough to be dangerous. I would’ve warned him if they had.

  As I exchanged a disconcerted glance with Ruby, I couldn’t help but wonder if these tour guides were on something…

  Hazel

  We retreated to our sleeping bags soon after Suzanne had snapped. I fell asleep much sooner than I had expected to. I supposed that the exh
austion of the day, and being surrounded by fresh air even while I lay in the cave, had worn me out.

  But I woke up with a start at three a.m. As my eyes pried open, and I found myself staring at the roof of the cave, I was immediately confused as to where I was. Then I remembered. Yeah, we had really gone through with this Scottish adventure thing.

  I realized that it was the sound of sobbing that had woken me up.

  I sat up slowly, my eyes adjusting to the gloom of the cave, as I tried to make out where the noise was coming from.

  I fumbled for my flashlight and switched it on. It didn’t sound like a female, but a male. I stood up. Everyone else seemed to be asleep. Or at least most people. Ruby, Benedict and Julian were snoring, but I spotted a few others toward the back of the cave lying awake and staring up at the ceiling, a couple of them whispering. But nobody seemed to be reacting to the sobs.

  Having a younger brother of my own, I couldn’t just ignore them. I moved to the entrance of the cave, which was where the noises were originating from. It was then that I realized that the sobbing wasn’t coming from a boy at all. It was coming from a full-grown man. Peter. He too had found a spot near the entrance to sleep, and now he was lying on his side, facing the sea.

  His eyes were clamped shut, his lips trembling as he continued to make whimpering noises.

  I felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable witnessing a grown man act like a young boy. He didn’t seem to be awake. He appeared to be having some kind of traumatic nightmare.

  I was about to make my way back to my sleeping bag and try to forget what I’d seen when he started speaking in low whispers. So low that I had to bend down to his level to make out what he was saying.

  “No, please don’t come again. Don’t come again. You’re not welcome back here!”

  My breath hitched at the sheer terror in his tone.

  What is he seeing in his mind’s eye?

  I was tempted to shake him awake and ask him, but that would’ve been pretty rude, considering that I barely even knew him. I listened to him for the next few minutes, repeating the same chilling words, until he quieted down. And then his sobbing stopped. He fell back into a slumber, his chest heaving up and down.

  I’d lost all chances of falling back to sleep that night—at least, deep sleep. I was forced to go relieve myself at four a.m., and then managed to drift off into a semi-slumber as the morning progressed. I also developed a dull headache, either due to lack of sleep, or the cool air.

  Ruby was the first of my companions to wake up. She sat up abruptly, wide-eyed. I could see that she experienced the same bout of confusion I had earlier.

  “Ugh,” she said huskily, rubbing her forehead, then her throat. “I think I caught a chill in the night.” She swallowed gingerly.

  “I’ve got a headache,” I said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I glanced toward Peter’s direction. He was still asleep, like most of the others in the cave. Then I told Ruby about his sobs and whispering.

  “Guess he must have had a really bad dream,” she murmured.

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s what I told myself.”

  When Julian and Benedict woke up, they’d also developed some kind of mild head cold. It was probably a mistake that all four of us had slept so close to the entrance of the cave. We would have been more sheltered from the wind toward the back.

  I told Julian and my brother about what I’d witnessed with Peter. Benedict looked spooked, while Julian shrugged and basically repeated what Ruby had said.

  Being among the first awake, we moved out of the cave toward the waves, where we brushed our teeth and freshened up. On our return, most of the cave was awake. As we returned to our sleeping bags, my eyes were on Peter. He was sitting upright, gazing out toward the horizon with a sleepy expression on his face while sipping from a drink. I bit my lip, debating with myself whether I ought to ask him about last night. In the end, I couldn’t help but wander over.

  He looked up as I approached… and smiled, no longer the grump he’d been yesterday. He also showed no signs of sobbing or falling into such a state of fear during the night, except for some crust in his inner eyes.

  “You all right, Hazel?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I, uh, I woke up last night and noticed you talking to yourself.” I didn’t want to embarrass him with the fact that I’d witnessed him sobbing, so this was the gentlest thing I could say.

  He smirked. “Oh, really? What was I saying?”

  “Uh, talking about how you didn’t want someone, or something, to ‘come again’… It was pretty creepy actually. I figured you must have been having a bad dream.”

  Peter’s brows rose. “Weird,” he muttered, taking another sip from his drink. “I don’t remember a thing.”

  I stood eyeing him a moment longer, wondering if he was really telling the truth. I didn’t detect embarrassment in his eyes, or dishonesty, so I guessed that he was.

  I made an excuse to get away and headed back to my group.

  “Did you ask him?” Benedict asked, as he combed his hair.

  “Said he didn’t remember anything,” I said.

  “Probably was nothing then,” Julian said. “Not sure why you even bothered asking.”

  I dropped the subject after that. We were soon made busy, anyway. We had to go hiking up the mountain to forage for water. We located a number of streams with crystal-clear water and filled up all our containers before returning to the beach for breakfast.

  Although I had been trying to forget about the events of last night, I couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It hadn’t just been that weird nightmare Peter had. It was the odd behavior portrayed by three of the guides so far—Gillian, Peter and Suzanne. Jamie and Charlie still seemed to be normal, but I couldn’t help but find myself wondering when they would do an about face too.

  As we swallowed down breakfast—more soup, like last night (it would be soup for lunch and dinner too, since we’d run out of other fresh foods like sandwiches)—I asked Peter in a casual tone, “I guess the guides must have brought phones with them, right? Even if the rest of us left them behind…”

  “Not phones, exactly,” Peter replied. “We have walkie-talkie type things that are hooked up to the main island. That’s how we’ll call for the boat when it’s time to leave.”

  “I see,” I said, my stomach churning a little.

  In that moment, I felt like I wanted to check in on my parents—to see how they were doing, and tell them about the erratic behavior of our guides. See what they thought of it all. For all I knew, Scottish people could just be the moody type. It would just be good to hear my mother’s voice.

  I stood up after finishing my soup and began wandering around the rest of our group, asking people whether they’d brought phones with them or not. All claimed they hadn’t. To my disappointment, everyone had apparently surrendered to the Murkbeech “adventure spirit”. Even Wes couldn’t help me out. So I had no choice but to give up the endeavor. If I started feeling even more uncomfortable, the urge to speak to my parents intensifying, I could always request to be taken back to the main island. I could even make up an excuse that I was feeling sick—which I actually was, kind of, with my headache—to make my request seem less flippant.

  After breakfast, we ventured deeper into the island where our guides began a sort of botany class. Peter was back to his vibrant self, though Gillian appeared to have caught the moods again, and Suzanne was still rather prickly in her demeanor, just like last night. I stuck near Charlie, Jamie and Peter as they demonstrated how to apply dock leaf to a nettle rash, as well as showing us various other plants that could be used for food. They also taught us which plants to avoid, as well as teaching how to spot similar traits in families of plants. I wasn’t sure how useful any of this would be outside Scotland or other parts of the United Kingdom, but I found it all surprisingly interesting. So interesting that I almost forgot about last night, and the heada
che that persisted.

  For lunch, we gathered a bunch of plants we had been shown along the way and roasted them over a fire along with some seaweed. After adding a sprinkle of salt, they were surprisingly delicious.

  “Hey,” said Wes, who had seated himself next to me. He had been holding a stick of skewered seaweed over the flames. “Want to try one of mine? They look better roasted than yours.”

  “Thanks,” I said, wondering when I was going to stop blushing whenever he spoke to me. He handed me the entire skewer, obviously intending me to just bite off one of the chunks. I held it, waiting for it to cool down. Then, as I was about to take a bite, something hard rammed into me from behind. It felt like someone’s knee. It sent me jerking forward and I almost pierced the back of my mouth with the sharp stick.

  I choked, the skewer falling onto the sand, and whirled around. I found myself gazing up at one of the four girls who shared Ruby’s and my dormitory—the brunette who seemed to have taken a particular liking to Wes. She was just standing there, barely a foot away, staring down at me with darkened eyes.

  “Excuse me?” I said, glaring at her incredulously. “What was that for?”

  Wes also looked shocked as he stared at her.

  “What was what for?” she asked, her voice infuriatingly calm. She planted her hands on her hips.

  “You just knocked into me!”

  She cocked her head to one side as she maintained steady eye contact. “Did I?” she wondered.

  Where the heck is this girl coming from?

  “Yes,” Wes said, taking over from me. There was a heat to his voice as he picked up the ruined skewer of seaweed from the ground. “This could have stabbed Hazel’s throat, you know.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, even though she sounded everything but. “It was a complete accident.”