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The first rain slaps into my face with huge drops. The fog is up to our knees and rolling down the hill faster. If it keeps going, we’ll be swimming in it. A raven caws. The sound reverberates off the fog. Cold chills race down my back.
“Trying,” I say, feeling the burn in every muscle as I take her hand.
Lightning cracks, blinding me. The hair on my head and arms stands on end. Savannah and others yelp. I’m sure I do too, but the thunderclap drowns out the sound. I blink rapidly trying to clear my eyes but now all I see is fog.
“Quinn!”
“Abby!”
“Clyde!”
Voices call out names, but they sound distant.
“Savannah? Ryan?” I yell but their voices sound further and further away.
The world is milky white, swirling mist. Cold caresses my skin.
“Quinn.”
Someone or something whispers my name in my ear. I shiver. I’m imagining things now. Fear clenches my belly. I yell but my voice seems to hit the fog as if it’s a wall, the sound falling flat with no answering cries. I trip over something and fall to my hands and knees.
When I climb to my feet, the sky is gone. The ground is gone. My entire world is nothing but whiteness.
Chapter Four
Eyes so wide it hurts I turn in a circle. I breathe so fast it’s more like panting. My heart thumps so hard it hurts. Fear builds and I let out a wordless, primal scream.
Quinn. A breath in my ear says my name.
“What?” I ask, turning in a circle, but I can’t tell where the sound came from.
I can barely see my hand in front of my face. Part of me wants to run, but where? I wrestle with my emotions, striving to be rational. Something clangs, a sound like metal hitting metal. I move towards where I think the sound originated. I’m not sure if I’m right or wrong.
“Savannah?” I yell, and the oppressive fog swirls in response. The clanging sound comes again, louder and sharper. “Abby? Ryan? Gail?”
I yell to keep hope from dying. It’s not raining, yet anyway. I couldn’t have been lost for more than a few minutes but it feels like I’ve been in this whiteness for hours. Holding my hands out in front of myself, I take careful steps, waiting to see if I contact anything, testing the ground before I put my full weight ahead.
The fog swirls with shades of gray instead of white. I feel it on my skin as if it's clinging, a lingering lover's embrace. My foot goes down too far, no resistance; I’m falling forward. Throwing my arms ahead, I brace for impact. Unfamiliar voices shout and scream, accented by the clanging metal on metal again. A boom hits my ears in a full assault of sound that leaves them ringing. I break my fall with my arms, landing in wet, tall, thick grass.
“Ouch,” I exclaim, trying to roll with the fall.
“Did you see tha?” a male voice asks.
I push myself up onto my knees. I don’t recognize the voice, but it must be one of the archaeologists. I’ve barely talked to any of them, so it’s no wonder if I don’t immediately identify the voice.
“’Tis a fae,” another unfamiliar voice answers. “Best nae be involved.”
“You’re as full of shite as a paddock,” the first voice says.
I stand, and a short distance away two men stare in my direction. They’re not archaeologists. Both of them are dressed in filthy kilts that are so grimy I can’t identify the tartan. There are dark stains on their shirts that I’m not sure is only dirt. They have several days of beard growth on dirty faces, but the worst thing is one of them has a massive sword in his hand. It’s pointed at the ground but even from here it glints and looks sharp. The other guy rests his hand on the pommel of a sword strapped to his side. A lump forms in my throat as my heart hammers.
“I’m sorry, I seem to have lost my way in that fog,” I say.
“Lost your way, have ya?” one of them asks, eyes narrowing.
The two of them move closer. Cold chills race down my back. I look around for my friends or the other members of the team.
There isn’t a sign of anyone I recognize or know. The dig itself is gone. There’s nothing but rolling grass and heather for as far as I can see. I must have wandered farther than I thought in the fog.
