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Who was he? What had he buried? Why was he so upset?
After what seemed like forever, the man pushed himself to his feet, and slowly staggered upright, before trudging dejectedly back to the hut. The tree where the box lay buried stood at the back of the clearing, not far from the little stone hut, its branches casting a long shadow across the ground that reached to the outhouse. The shadow almost touched the hut on a good day, when the sun was at the right angle. It was the lone tree in the clearing: just like the man. Alone in the mountains.
Catherine watched as he made his way back inside, leaving the wooden door wide open to the elements, the wind driving the rain inside, turning the dirt floor to mud. He went to the cupboard, took out a bottle of whisky, pulled the cork out with his teeth, and carried the bottle outside to the crudely built rocking chair that sat on the rickety porch. He didn’t bother with a glass, just swigged straight out of the bottle.
Stirring in her sleep, Catherine rolled over. The next parts of the dream were murky: the man was sitting in the rocking chair swigging whisky, then he was searching outside, still sober. It was dark, but he had a lantern burning brightly. He walked in one direction, then the other, holding his lantern high, letting it illuminate the ground around him. He cupped his hands around his mouth, calling someone as he searched.
Catherine!The echoing, haunted cry tormented her dreams.Catherine!He called again, sweeping his lantern around him in a broad circle, changing direction, hurrying. His search was frantic. Everything was blurry. The visions all melded together: he was digging. He was searching. He was drinking. Searching. Digging. Drinking. Digging. Searching. Drinking.
He stopped at the edge of the cliff, calling her name again. Desperate. She wanted to yell back, to tell him she was right there, she was safe. But even in her subconscious state she knew it wasn’t her he was calling. It was her name, but it wasn’t her. She didn’t know the man she could see, and he didn’t know her.
He leaned over the cliff, lying on the ground and crawling right to the very edge, holding his lantern out over the edge, looking down. He lay there for a long time, not moving. Just staring. Reaching down. Sobbing. His shoulders shook. He looked broken.
Dawn broke over the mountains, peeking over the tops, casting a golden orange glow over the landscape. Still the man lay there, looking down over the cliff edge. There was something down there, that much was clear, but it didn’t look like he was able to retrieve whatever it was. And whatever was down there was obviously something he wanted desperately.
Her dreams melded together again: searching. Calling. Digging. Then something new: he was rummaging around inside the hut. Gathering some things into a pile. Sitting at the roughhewn table that still stood in the hut, a book open in front of him. Dipping a quill into a pot of ink. Writing in the book. Placing the pile of things into a small metal box, laying the book carefully on top. Digging. Calling. Searching.
Then he was back on the rickety porch, drinking himself into oblivion.
Catherine stirred again, tugging the covers up to her chin. The dream still lingered in her mind and it left her with more questions and no answers. What was he searching for? What had he found at the bottom of the cliff? Was it the thing he’d been searching for? What had he buried? What was he writing? Why he was he so upset? Was he drinking so much because he was trying to drown his sorrows?
Eventually, deep sleep claimed Catherine. She stopped tossing and turning and found herself snuggling into Jason’s side. The second she did, the man was right there, at the forefront of her vision. Most of the bottle of whisky was gone. She watched, helpless, as he chugged back the last of it, then staggered drunkenly to his feet. He swayed back and forth for a moment then took a wobbly step forward. He lurched himself off the porch and hurried off into the dark. The lantern he’d set down on the porch beside the rocking chair had burnt out and only the dim glow of the moon lit his way. He staggered rather than walked, but it was with a singular purpose: he went directly toward the cliff. As he drew nearer, he broke into an unsteady, shambling run.
“Hey!” Catherine yelled, wanting to warn him. “There’s a cliff there! Slow down!”
But it was like he didn’t even hear her. He didn’t acknowledge her warning at all. In fact, the closer he got to the edge of the cliff, the faster he ran.
“Stop!” Catherine yelled again, the desperation evident in her voice. “You’re going to fall! Stop!”
But he didn’t. He didn’t slow even the tiniest bit as he reached the sheer drop; he flew over the side at full speed. Deliberately.
Catherine watched in horror, helpless, as the man ran over the edge of the cliff. He somersaulted as he fell, his big coat flying out behind him.
“No!” she screamed, horrified at the tragedy unfolding before her. “No!”
Her heart was in her mouth as the man fell out of sight, falling to his death on the rocks far below.
Catherine was shaking. Or being shaken. Or maybe there was an earthquake.
“You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s okay.” She woke up to Jason shaking her gently, speaking softly in her ear. “You’re okay, baby girl.”
For a second, she believed him. But then she sat up and the dream…
“Where am I?” she asked, confused.
“You’re right here in the hut, safe with me. Everything is okay,” Jason reassured her, slipping his arms around her, pulling her close.
But the dream…
“No!” she insisted, pulling away from him and sitting up. “No, it’s not okay! He’s dead! He died! Quickly! We have to save him!”
In one swift move, Catherine pulled away from Jason and threw the covers off the bed, sliding her good leg out and onto the floor.
“What are you talking about?” Jason asked. “Who died? There’s nobody here, baby girl. It’s just us. Me and you.” He grabbed hold of her, pulling her back into the bed, trying to cuddle her.
“No!” Catherine yelled, shoving him off. “We have to help him!”
Jason looked thoroughly confused, but she didn’t have time to explain it to him. The man who had just thrown himself over the cliff needed their help, and he needed it urgently.
