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He drops my chin and steps away and despite what I’ve been feeling, disappointment is at the forefront of my mind. Damn him. Damn me!
“You should change into something more comfortable – it’s a long walk through the caves.”
Chapter 6
Amy
THAT WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. It is not just a long walk through the caves. We’ve traipsed for miles, each step making it darker, the smell dank, like wet clay and sand, the air thick and hard to breathe without tasting salt.
At one point, the caves narrow so that we have to walk single file, him in front of me as he knows the way, his hand holding mine as a guide. It’s so dark that were it not for his hand I worry I might stumble and fall, yet with his guidance I’m safe.
He stops walking abruptly, so I bump into his broad, strong back.
“What’s the matter?” For some reason, I whisper.
“Can you see them?”
I frown, because I see nothing right now.
“Look.” He moves closer to me, his hand lifting to turn my face, his other hand grabbing my hand and using it to indicate a direction. “Over there.”
I follow his gaze, squinting into the darkness until tiny little pinpricks of golden light begin to dance in the distance. “What is it? We’re too deep for sunshine?”
“They are harshiali, a type of firefly native to these mountains.”
My eyes become accustomed to the site, so their frenetic, somehow happy movements become more familiar, and suddenly I am aware of them everywhere, all over the wall, tiny, buzzing little bodies that glow in the darkness of the cave. “They’re magical.”
“That is a myth we were taught as children,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Your father must have told you?”
I shake my head, a gesture he perceives because his hand is still lightly resting against my cheek.
“It is said the harshiali come to our homes in the night, and whisper stories into our ears – that’s why children dream what they do.”
I can’t help but smile at the story. “Only children?”
“Adults do not believe in the power of the harshiali,” he says. “And so the harshiali do not bother to come to them.”
“How can anyone who’s seen them not believe?”
He laughs. “Fairytales, Amy?”
“Look!” I laugh too though. “They’re incredible.” To my surprise, my voice thickens with emotion, tears clogging my eyes. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“This is simply the preamble,” he says quietly, and I know he’s heard my emotion, and that he’s responding to it. His voice has grown deep and dark, masculine and raw, so that it reaches into me and changes the nature of my soul.
“Preamble to what?”
“Be patient.”
He drops his hand, catching mine, and begins to walk once more. It’s not much further, perhaps another ten minutes, and then the narrow corridor we’ve been walking through begins to widen, and we can walk side by side. Despite that, he continues to hold my hand and I’m glad for that. The ground is uneven and the darkness remains, so his strength and guidance are welcome.
More light filters through and then we turn a corner and there’s an onslaught of it, bright and golden, warmth immediately penetrating the cool of this tangle of caves.
The light though comes from above – there’s a gap in the mountain, so we must be near the top. I’m looking up so don’t immediately see what’s right in front of me but when I take the time to properly examine our surroundings, I almost sob.
It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
A rock pool sits directly beneath the opening, dark water rippling in the sun’s rays, so it has the appearance of diamonds floating on the water’s surface. Beyond the water, the cave expands to a view of the desert, all rolling sand dunes. In the distance, I can just make out the ocean, a faraway spectre of water, glistening like diamonds, that floods my soul.
