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“Come with me,” Laura orders.
Storm finds herself rising to her feet automatically. Something in the clipped, stern tones and her role in Storm’s previous punishment make for a combination Storm cannot ignore.
Laura starts striding away, leaving Storm to follow in her wake. Knowing she’s not supposed to be out of the chateau, but also having been given a direct order, she chooses to follow Laura rather than defy her. She has the idea that if Laura chased her, it would not be nearly as long an affair as it was with Hannes.
Laura walks at a fast place and has long legs, so Storm practically has to trot to keep up, which Laura insists she does.
“Where are we going?”
“We are walking,” Laura explains.
“Where?”
“Around.” Laura turns up a steep slope, the kind which makes the rear and thighs burn when ascended. She seems to have some sense of a destination, but that might merely be the illusion created by the way she strides out with a determined expression.
It is fortunate Storm had discarded heels for sneakers because she’d be breaking her ankle every other step if not. The terrain is not gentle, nor is it particularly predictable. It is also seemingly unending. The mountain goes on forever, and Laura seems determined to walk every single inch of it.
Technically they are still on the lower slopes, not actually on the mountain proper, but to an unfit Storm, they may as well be ascending the peak. Laura, in sharp contrast, appears to have the kind of hearty fitness of a tomcat roaming here, there, and everywhere.
“My legs are going to fall off,” Storm complains. “My toes aren’t working.”
Complaining does not work with Laura. She ignores it, and Storm has no choice but to follow her because these slopes and valleys and such are quite easy to get turned around and lost in. While down might generally be considered a way off the mountain, she knows that picking the wrong version of down could easily lead to a crevasse or worse.
Eventually her balance and the mountain betray her simultaneously. Storm curses as she loses traction on loose stones that slide away under her feet and starts to slide down the mountain with a loud, cursing cry.
Moving faster than anybody should really be able to, Laura goes into a controlled slide on the shale surface before digging her heels in and catching Storm by the collar, arresting her descent. Flipping over flat on her back, Storm looks up into unimpressed Swiss eyes.
“You’re going to get me killed!”
“I thought they had mountains in New Zealand,” Laura says.
“They do, but I’m not stupid enough to go near them.”
“Try to find whatever survival instincts might be left inside,” Laura says. “I do not want to carry you off this mountain.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have taken me up it, then,” Storm grumps. Laura ignores that.
Storm is dependent on Laura to lead, and she is left with no choice but to follow until finally the scrabbly surfaces of gravel turn to rock and then to grass as they descend toward the more domestic lower slopes.
Finally. They’re home.
Storm has never been happy to see a school before. Finding it coming into view again gives her great pleasure. She cannot wait to have a bath, peel off clothes that are now covered in dirt and sweat, and get into bed. She is the kind of tired you can only get from brisk exercise in mountain air.
Everything is going to be okay now…
“Where have you been!?”
As Storm and Laura reach Birchbane, they are greeted by Jane coming down the stairs of the chateau, cane in hand, stern expression on her elegant features. Her hair flows in the gathering evening breeze with what turns out to be dramatic warning.
Her gaze locks onto Storm, clearly immediately assuming that she has done something wrong. Hazel eyes flash green in the dwindling light, and Storm shrinks back behind Laura as she realizes she has gotten into trouble for something that was very much not her fault. It is a sickening sensation. Her stomach sinks, and her mouth goes dry. She has no appetite for further punishment, though she knows more is in store. The Basel incident is yet to be attended to. Jane has been letting her heal up before that happens, but she knows if she puts so much as a pinky out of line, that clemency will dissipate.
“I took Storm with me for a walk,” Laura says. “I must watch her. It will be easier to do so if she is exercised and therefore tired. It is hard to run when you must rest.”
“I beg your pardon?” Jane seems confused by this response. Almost as if she had no idea Laura was going to sweep in and institute a program of walkies.
Jane looks from Laura to Storm, who shrugs. None of this has been her idea.
“You should have informed me before you did that. Storm is my charge.”
