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Winter’s knees buckled and she slid to the ground. She sat curled at the base of the tree, hugging the trunk as tightly as she could, feeling TarStone’s vast store of energy moving through her. In her mind’s eye she saw roots stretching deep into fissures that spidered through the mountain’s granite.
The trunk she was hugging expanded and receded with billowing breaths as the vital energy flowed up from the mountain and into the tree.
The crow gave another high-pitched caw, and Winter looked up to see it lift off the branch and flap skyward. It caught the wind and soared over the swaying treetops of the forest, disappearing into the dark, churning storm clouds.
Winter slowly straightened away from the pine, blinking in confusion. What had just happened?
Had she actually become one with Daar’s pine? Could she really have felt its pulse as strongly as she felt her own?
Yes, that’s exactly what had happened, and Winter finally understood the true scope of her gift, as well as the very real threat Cùram de Gairn posed. For even though she knew the pine would live for months yet, she had also seen its eventual death—arriving on the chill wind of utter hopelessness.
Chapter Fifteen
T he clouds had thickened and lowered by the time Winter crossed Bear Brook and entered the high meadow, the wind blowing at gale force and a wet snow falling with blinding intensity. Though she was wet to the skin and miserably cold, the closer Winter got to Matt’s cozy little cave the calmer she became. Despite all her questions and confusion, she was confident she could figure out a way to lure Cùram into the open for Robbie.
But what was she going to do about Matt while she dealt with the magic? How could she keep such a powerful secret from him? She couldn’t say when it had happened exactly, but Winter now accepted the fact that she loved Matheson Gregor with every fiber of her being. Until she had pictured herself having to live without him, she hadn’t realized just how deeply he had become entrenched in her heart. As she rode across the meadow through the driving snow, Winter vowed that she would not allow Providence or the magic or some angry drùidh to mess with that love.
Gesader disappeared into the woods that separated the meadow from the cliff, having to twist his head to fit the long pinewood stick through the trees. Winter had deliberately left the staff at Daar’s tree, but as soon as she’d found a stump and mounted Snowball, Gesader had taken up the lead again, once again carrying the blasted thing in his mouth.
Winter had no idea how the big cat knew its importance, but he did seem determined the staff remain with them. She’d often wondered if the tiny cub Robbie had brought her from eight hundred years ago was something more than he seemed. Even though panthers were not indigenous to Scotland, he had been living in the cave Robbie said had held Cùram’s tree of life. But other than being unusually well-adapted to living with humans, Gesader had shown no signs of being anything other than a typical, semiwild leopard.
He’d never spoken to Winter the way Robbie’s snowy owl spoke to him, nor did Gesader appear to possess any magic, much less act the part of a familiar. He was simply Winter’s cherished pet and steadfast companion. Yet he’d brought her to the dying pine, somehow knowing she needed to feel its waning energy in order to realize the seriousness of the situation.
And the crow she’d seen sitting on the branch above her. What had that been about? Tom certainly loved crows; he’d told Winter they were the harbinger of renewal and transformation, to be revered as spirits who helped restore order to the heavens.
Had the crow she’d seen today symbolized some sort of transformation? Had he been there to encourage her to fight for humanity’s future?
Following Gesader, Winter guided Snowball through the narrow band of trees as she contemplated the meaning of the crow. They stopped at the granite cliff that rose thirty feet above the meadow. She slid from the saddle, nearly falling to the ground when her numbed legs buckled under her weight.
“I have to get us dried off,” she said to her wet, snow-covered pets. “Or Matt is going to find three frozen blocks of ice when he gets home.”
Gesader disappeared into the narrow opening of the cave, then quickly returned empty-mouthed. Winter undid Snowball’s cinch and pulled the heavy saddle off, groaning when its weight nearly buckled her knees again. She let it fall to the ground and dragged it to the cave, dropping it just inside the entrance. She rummaged around in her saddlebag until she found a flashlight, then trailed its beam around the interior of the cave, stopping when she spotted the pile of blankets.
“Bless you, Rose, for being such a good saleslady,” she said, taking one of the blankets.
Winter had helped Matt shop for his camping equipment, but Rose was the one who had insisted he needed extra blankets, a lantern, and a jug for carrying water from the nearby spring Tom had shown them. Rose had also sold Matt ten pairs of wool socks, several pairs of long johns, and a tarp to hang over the entrance of the cave in bad weather.
Winter noticed Matt hadn’t bothered to hang the tarp, likely because the twisted entrance didn’
t allow rain or snow to reach very far inside. That way he could build his fire close to the entrance so the smoke wouldn’t fill the cave.
It wasn’t a very big cave, maybe twenty feet deep and about fifteen feet wide, but it was more than tall enough for Matt to stand upright. All in all, Winter had thought it an appropriate den for the son of a bear, which is exactly what she’d told Matt when she’d helped him settle in last week. She smiled as she carried the blanket outside, remembering how her comment had gotten her a very passionate kiss.
“I’m sorry you won’t fit inside with us,” Winter told Snowball, who had ducked his head into the cave and turned his rump to the wind. She tossed the blanket over his back, smoothing it out and frowning when it came only halfway down his sides. “I’ll get a rope and tie it on you,” she said, giving him a pat before rushing back to her saddle.
She pulled a small coil of rope from one of her bags, then ran back, looped the rope around Snowball’s girth, and tied it securely. “There, that’ll keep most of your heat in,” she said, swiping a large snowflake off her eyelash so she could see to undo Snowball’s bridle strap. She carefully let the bit slip from his mouth, then affectionately rubbed one of his ears. “Go find yourself a sheltered place to sit out the storm,” she said, looking him square in his large brown eye. “I won’t tie you up, so you can graze in the meadow and drink from the brook, but don’t you go wandering off to Tom’s,” she instructed. “I don’
t want him knowing I’m up here, and I don’t want him worrying about me, understand?”
Snowball let out a deep-bellied sigh that puffed a cloud of warm moist air toward her. He then closed his eyes without so much as taking a step toward shelter, apparently deciding this was as good a place as any for a nap. Winter turned to Gesader to see to his needs when she suddenly realized what she’d just said to Snowball.
She didn’t want Tom worrying about her, but what about her parents? And Robbie? Come to think of it, she thought with a frown, how come they hadn’t chased after her?
She was going through a terrible crisis here, and her mama and papa had just let her run away.
And Robbie. What in curses kind of guardian was he, to let her shoot past him without even trying to stop her? Didn’t they realize how traumatized she was? Didn’t they care?
Winter’s frown turned into a scowl aimed at herself. Of course they cared; they cared enough to give her time and space to think over their news. They realized coddling her wouldn’t make the problem go away, but only make them feel better.