She stopped by a fast-running stream to wash her hands and face and to refill her water skin. She wouldn’t admit it to her brothers, but damn did she regret not remembering to bring thesat phone they’d bought her. She could at least call for accurate weather reports instead of trusting her eyes alone.
There was nothing for it but to press on. She was making excellent time. According to her map, she should hit the bunkhouse in another five hours if she kept at a slow jog. She would assess then.
Without a doubt, Bébhinn’s panting breaths could be heard for miles. She bypassed the bunkhouse two hours ago and had regretted the decision for approximately an hour and thirty-five minutes.
Visibility was down to twenty percent; heavy snow, wind, and fog were a treacherous combination. Hoping for the best was over. She needed to make a decision and fast, or she would be putting her life in jeopardy.
Cursing her foolish decision yet again, she slowed to a walk and looked for a reasonable spot to hunker down until the weather let up, which probably wouldn’t be until morning.
She attempted not to be spooked about the abrupt darkness and lack of visibility, taking several deep, calming breaths.
“Think. Think, think, think. There are rock outcroppings everywhere,” she reassured herself out loud. There were hundreds upon hundreds of small caves throughout the Snowdonia range. Surely, she could find one.
Turning on her phone, she went to the downloaded maps and found the one with the most detailed topography of her current location. It was dangerous to go off-trail when visibility was limited—she didn’t have a choice.
She’d studied that particular map last night and again this morning to prepare for the type of situation she wasunfortunately in. The map showed a promising ridge not more than three hundred feet north of her position. Making up her mind, she struck off the path. Her body was shivering from the quick drop in temperature. Finding shelter and starting a fire was fast becoming critical.
Twenty minutes of slow, careful steps later, the long branch she’d been using as a measuring stick hit rock—falling into a crevasse wasn’t on today’s agenda. Straining her eyes to see through the blizzard-like conditions, she could just make out several ridges of rock under the snow, leading to what had to be the line of boulders and outcroppings from her map.
“Thank God.” She wanted to run to the possible promise of shelter, but forced her feet to move at a steady pace and kept poking her stick left, right, and center as she went.
Thankfully, another line of trees began several feet ahead, running parallel to the rock face, creating a wind and snow break and allowing her to see more clearly.
When she spotted a dark break in the gray rock, she knew she’d found a cave and prayed it was deep enough for her needs. She wanted to rush to the opening but forced her trembling legs to keep steady.
Finally reaching her goal, she could bend and shine her pen light inside the cave. She was relieved to see the narrow opening widen enough to make a pallet and build a fire. She could almost stand to her full height as she moved inside.
Her body shuddered in relief as the biting wind ceased buffeting her body. She took a deep breath as she pulled her face guard down and assessed the cramped but completely acceptable space.
There wasn’t any sign of animal occupation. “Thank you again, Lord, for that.” She had no desire to share her bed with critters or creepy crawlies. Mostly leaves and twigs littered the floor, which she could use to build a fire.
Before settling in for the night, she needed to brave the outside once more to relieve her bladder—a miserable process in this weather—and gather twigs and anything else that would burn.
Her chest felt considerably less tight having found shelter. The storm had descended sooner than predicted, but she prayed that the prediction of the storm being short-lived was still accurate.
Pulling her face mask up, she told her dad, “It could be worse, Dad. My phone could work, and I’d have to listen to your sons chew my butt for an hour.” She hated that her mom would worry, but the moment she was close to the pick-up location, she would have service again and call her mom immediately.
With renewed determination, she left the cave for supplies.
eighteen
THE WATCHER
“Fuck this weather!”he bellowed while kicking one of the rough wooden cots in the bunkhouse that he was forced to take shelter in. The same bunkhouse that the love of his life clearly chose to bypass, putting her life in danger.
He balled his fists, angry enough to burn the bunkhouse to the ground. There was no other option but to find Bébhinn as soon as the weather allowed.
He had to remind himself that she was highly trained in survival. She was one of the strongest long-distance hikers in their Dublin club.
She wouldn’t panic. She was smart and strong. Fierce and beautiful.
There was not a savvier outdoorsman than his love. She was so worthy of his worship that he was embarrassed for doubting her decision to press on even though he couldn’t follow.
The weather might have crushed his plan of surprising her in her bunk. He would have parted her tarp curtain, offering her a purple saxifrage bouquet…and his heart.
She would be lying on her back, with her piercing amber eyes staring up at him. She would open her arms for an embrace, realizing it was him she’d loved all along, begging his forgiveness for not seeing him sooner.
Sighing, he shook off his disappointment and lay down on a cot so he could envision a new surprise.
