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“Come on!” he shouted before disappearing beneath the fern covered structure.
Ivy swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat. There was no way she would share that tiny quarter with him. Good Lord, he was hired to track her down. Dead or alive. She shivered again, though not from the cold this time. She would rather soak to death, then seek his help. Straightening her spine, she planted her behind firmly on the ground and stared into the fire.
The rain started to fall then. She watched as the long wet pellets fell intermittently at first, splattering the flames in the fire pit until they eventually increased in size and speed and doused it altogether. The hair around her temples began to curl into tight coils as it always did whenever it got wet. Goose bumps spread like wildfire across her skin. The cloak provided no protection from the cold rain. Without warning, she released a violent shiver.
She would not go inside.
It started pouring harder, coursing down her face and blinding her vision. She snuck a hand out from beneath her cloak and wiped madly at her eyes, trying to clear
the rain away. A crack of thunder directly overhead had her body leaping in fright. Still she sat, utterly freezing.
When the rain found its way into the back of her cloak and down her neck, Ivy could no longer endure it. She sprung to her feet and made a mad dash for the tiny shelter. How she wished he wasn’t in there. But there he sat looking smug on the makeshift bed she had earlier occupied.
He glanced up from his outstretched position when she came crawling inside. “Decided to finally join me?”
She ignored him, instead throwing off her wet cloak as a cold shudder raked her body.
“Might want to keep that on. It’s goin’ get mighty cold tonight.”
“I-it’s t-too w-wet,” she said over her shivers and tried to find a spot to curl up in which was as far away from Sam Michalski as possible.
“Should have come in when I told you to.”
Ivy turned and looked out the small entrance. It was a downpour by that point. Pounding the earth violently. The sound of it hitting the roof of Sam’s little lean-to shelter where he had covered it with birch bark, was loud but, surprisingly, did not leak. Ivy ignored the fleeting feeling of admiration.
Glancing around, the small confides of the shelter nearly had her turning and bolting for the great outdoors again. It was tiny. Smaller by the fact Sam Michalski took up most of the space. Ivy’s chest began to squeeze.
Air. She needed air. Turning back to the entrance, she opened her mouth and inhaled as much of the fresh rainy outdoors as she could.
“Now what’s the matter?”
She wasn’t going to respond at first, and then decided there really was no reason not to. “I have a phobia of small—confined areas.”
“You’re claustrophobic? For real?”
She frowned and shot him a look. “Yes, for real. Why would I be lying?”
He shrugged. “If it’s part of some cockeyed escape plan, you can just go ahead and forget it. I ain’t so gullible, Ms. McGregor.”
She felt her jaw tense, the beginning of her rising panic momentarily forgotten. “I can assure ye, Mr. Michalski, me fear of small quarters is very real.”
“Well, if you’re thinking I’d leave so you can have this shelter all to yourself, you are sadly mistaken. I ain’t moving.”
“I hardly expected ye to, Mr. Michalski.”
“Good, cause I’m mighty comfortable right where I’m at,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head.
“Are ye implying I should be the one to leave?” Nasty images of her tied to a tree in the freezing, pouring rain drifted to mind.
“Well, seeing as you’re so claustrophobic and all.”
Fire lit her belly. “I’m not lying. It may just surprise ye to know not all mankind is built to withstand such primitive situations or such a harsh environment. Some of us are truly human and are susceptible to fears beyond our control.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye.”
“Then how come you managed to come in this far?”
