Page 30 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

"So, what do I do?" I ask.

"Get dressed. Come with me."

I stare at him. "Now?"

"Yeah, now. The day's already started, and you're wasting it sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself."

I should be offended by that. Should tell him to get out, that I'll deal with this my own way. But the truth is, I am sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I have been for three weeks. And it hasn't helped.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

I look down at my pajamas: the unbuttoned top, the too-loose pants, the fact that I'm currently wrapped in quilts like some kind of blanket burrito. "I need to change."

"I'll wait outside."

He heads for the door, Bear following at his heels, and pauses with his hand on the handle. "Hannah."

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to trust me completely. You don't have to believe this is going to work. You just have to be willing to try."

The door closes behind him before I can respond.

I sit there for a moment longer, staring at the fire he rebuilt, thinking about what he said. About trust. About trying. About the person I was before the gun and whether she's really still there or if I'm just kidding myself.

But yesterday, when I was splitting wood, I felt like her. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

I stand up, let the quilts fall away, and head for my duffel bag. I pull on jeans, a thermal shirt, and a thick sweater. Socks. My boots. I run my fingers through my hair, still a mess, and give up on trying to tame it. This isn't a fashion show. This is... whatever Griffin has planned.

I'm not sure I'm ready for this. But I'm ready to try anything to be the person I used to be. The person who didn't jump at shadows. Who didn't see threats in every stranger. Who could walk into a room without immediately noticing all the exits.

I grab my jacket and open the door.

Griffin is leaning against the porch railing, Bear sitting at his feet. He looks up when I step out, and something in his expression softens just slightly.

"Ready?" he asks.

"No. But I'm here anyway."

"That's all that matters."

He starts walking, not toward his cabin but deeper into the forest, following a trail I didn't even know existed. I follow, because what else am I going to do? Stand here alone in a cold cabin replaying the worst moment of my life in an endless loop?

"Where are we going?" I ask again as we walk.

"Somewhere you can't be scared."

"That's not a real place."

"We'll see."

We walk in silence after that, winding through the trees. The morning is beautiful. It’s cold and crisp, the air smelling like pine, earth and something wild I still can't name. Birds call from the branches overhead. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear water running.