Touch the Sky

Chapter four

The dream was the same one he'd been having since he was a child. The woman was familiar to him, almost like family though Foster was sure he'd never seen her during his waking hours. The locations of his dreams varied. But the woman was always outside. The sun streamed down, turning her blonde hair nearly white. She was an ethereal beauty. And that was even without the flocks of white butterflies that were always flocking around her. As a child Foster believed she was a fairy, something like the Farrell version of a guardian angel. A childlike belief that hadn't really changed as his body and mind matured.

In this particular dream, the fairy woman was sitting in a field. She was imitating the whistles of the birds in the trees around her, calling them down to land on her outstretched finger. Foster was watching her so intently, he didn't realize he wasn't alone until he felt Delilah's hand on his.

"Are you in my dream?," he asked, glancing down at her. She looked different. More like one of his people. And it was more than just her clothes. There was a lightness to her expressions that wasn't there back at the campsite.

"I guess I am," she said, looking down at herself. "...because I sure didn't dress myself up like Stevie Nicks." Foster laughed. He wasn't sure who Stevie Nicks was. But he could only imagine she was someone who's wardrobe Delilah had no interest in raiding.

"You look beautiful," he said, his eyes lingering on the way her printed dress clung in tightly around her slender waist and flared out around her hips. Delilah laughed again. But this time the noise tickled him. His dream fairy turned toward the sound. And he felt Delilah's hand clamp down harder over his.

"MOM!"

Delilah pushed towards the woman. But it was like she was running in place. The fact that she recognized his dream woman shocked him a little. The possibility that the woman might actually be a real person never crossed his mind. But now that he was looking back and forth between her and Delilah, he could see the obvious resemblance in their facial features. Delilah's hair was much darker. But the two women had the same color eyes and the same small cleft in their chins. They looked enough alike that he was surprised he hadn't registered the resemblance before this moment.

"That's your mom?," Foster asked, gently tugging Delilah against him so that he could hold her in place. He'd never been able to get close to his dream woman. And he didn't think Delilah would be able to now. The woman couldn't even see them. She'd already turned her attention back to her birds. They were only her to watch. Not to interact.

"She looks different," Delilah said. "...younger. But I'd know her anywhere." Delilah stopped pushing against Foster's grip. She tucked herself into his side instead, leaning into him for support. "I'd give anything to hug her one more time."

Foster held her tighter. Delilah was still a relative stranger to him. But the knowledge that she was connected to his personal fairy was making him feel oddly protective over her.

"What's her name?," he asked, though he knew deep down that he already had some idea of the answer now that he knew she was not just a figment of his imagination.

"Anna."

Foster sighed. His earlier suspicions about who Delilah was were right. She was G'Win's first cousin. The daughter of her mother's younger sister. The one that was lost all those years ago. He watched as Anna whistled another bird down from the trees. This one had vibrant yellow feathers with a black head. She looked so at home there in the valley. So at peace. He couldn't help but wonder what made her run away from home. It must have been something terrible for her to let her loved ones all believe she was dead. Foster felt Delilah's grip on him tighten. The yellow warbler flitted back into the trees. And suddenly, Anna was up and backing away from the small cluster of wildflowers she'd been sitting in. Fear flashed in her turquoise eyes.

"Anna."

Foster turned towards the voice, sucking in a fearful breath of his own. He no longer felt like the strongest among his clan. One look at his father's younger self and he was no more than a frightened child again, trying to make himself as small and quiet as possible to keep from attracting the man's attention. The fact that his father was smiling did nothing to ease the sinking feeling in Foster's stomach.

"Foster," the woman said, pulling her long blonde hair forward as if she wished she could hide behind it. "What are you doing here?"

He held a bouquet of wildflowers up in front of him, displaying the reason for his presence. The woman glanced at the flowers with a look of confusion and suspicion on her face.

"I came to bring you these," he said, quickly closing the distance between them before she could escape back towards the village. Anna took the flowers. Her eyes widening when she realized her mistake. When she reached out to grab them, she moved close enough that the elder Foster was able to grasp hold of her wrist. "I thought you might want to wish me luck in the tournament tomorrow," he said with a hopeful grin.

"The tournament?," she repeated. "You're already betrothed to another. Why would you be taking part in a competition for my hand?"

"Betrothed is a strong word," he said, a wicked smile marring his handsome features. "She's not my wife. And she's not fit to be my wife. Not when I could have you."

"She's bearing your child," Anna said, her voice filled with disapproval and disgust. "She's meant to have the baby before the next full moon. You would forsake her now? In her time of need? I'll not accept any man as a husband that behaves that way."

Anna dropped the flowers and jerked her body away in her attempt to escape from his grip. But Big Foster's hands moved from her wrists to her upper arms, holding her with a biting bruising grip. Marking her pale flesh.

"When I win the tournament tomorrow, you won't have a choice," he hissed, jerking her body against his and holding her there until she screamed. The sound rose. And Foster realized it was because Delilah was screaming with her.

He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness around him after just standing in a sunlit meadow only a moment before. The dream was gone. But the screaming was not. Delilah was sitting straight up in bed, screaming for her dog.

"REMY!"

Foster heard the dog's vicious barks outside the tent. And then he heard the low rumbling growl of a larger animal.

"It's a bear!," he shouted above the chaos. "Where's the gun?"

Foster could feel Delilah desperately scrambling around next to him. And the next thing he knew he was being blinded by a bright beam of light. Delilah found her flashlight and clicked it on. Where was the gun, she thought, cursing herself for being so stupid and careless. She was more worried about the warm body next to her than she was about her own safety. Ripping the tent zipper up, Delilah stumbled out into the dirt. She could feel Foster behind her, grabbing at her as he tried to keep himself between her and the dangerous animal. The light flashed around, giving her a brief glimpse of black fur and menacing white teeth.

"There!," she screamed, "...by the saddle!" Foster dove for the gun. And to her surprise, it was plainly obvious that he's shot one before. Because he was handling it like he knew exactly what he was doing as he checked the gun to make sure it was loaded. Which it wasn't. The bullets were in a bag next to where she left the gun. And as he groped for them by the light of the fire, Delilah pointed her flashlight at the bear.

"Fuck off!," she hollered at the animal, hoping the light might blind it and keep it from being able to take a swipe at her dog. Remy was barking and growling like crazy. And somewhere close she could hear the horses whining in fear. Delilah leaned down, grabbing the first thing she saw that might be used as a possible weapon. The large rocks they'd used to bank the fire were still hot. But she grabbed one anyway. Taking aim, she hurled it at the giant angry bear. It hit the animal in the side of the head, drawing its attention away from her barking dog and onto her. Delilah grabbed a second rock and threw it as hard as she could. This one hit the animal in the chest. It looked down, like it wasn't sure what to do about the sudden attack. And then it reared up to its full height and roared.

Delilah wasn't exactly proud of what she did next. Because when that fucking bear started coming at her, she didn't fight or use any evasive measures like a heroine in a movie might employ. She just stood there and screaming her fool fucking head off. The beam of the flashlight was flying around like crazy. And when she felt the pain of the bear's claws biting into her arm, she figured she was as good as dead. But then a loud shot cracked the air around them. And another. And another. And even after the bear fell down dead at her feet, Foster moved in and shot it again in the head. Then he dropped the gun and pulled her against his chest.

"You're safe," he said, almost sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than her. "It's over."

Delilah tied her arm up with a few handkerchiefs to stanch the bleeding. There wasn't much night left. And Delilah spent it squished between Foster and Remy as they snuggled together by the fire and waited for the sun to come up. When twilight arrived, Foster finally left her side. She watched with interest as he rolled the giant bear onto its back and began field dressing the animal. She'd been hunting before. And she'd certainly seen her father gut a deer before. But she didn't quite remember him looking so especially manly while he was doing it. Maybe it was the fact that Foster saved her from being eaten by the animal in question that was making her feel funny inside as she watched him. Or maybe it was the ridiculous width of his shoulders and the way the huge muscles in his arms and back were bunching and moving as he worked. That was probably it, she thought as she tugged her shirt away from her body to disguise her hardening nipples.

Remy leaped up, following Foster down to the creek as he washed the bear blood off his hands and arms. The horses seemed to have gotten over their fright. And thankfully, their hobbles held and kept them from running off during the attack. Delilah chewed on her bottom lip as he walked back towards the fire, using his damp hands to slick his hair back away from his face.

"Take your shirt off," he ordered, lowering himself down next to her.
"Huh?," Delilah gasped. "What?"

"Your arm," he said, pointing to the bloody handkerchiefs she'd tied around her bicep. "Where's the stuff you patched my stomach up with?"

"The first aid kit is in my bag in the tent," Delilah said, stuttering and stammering as she attempted to think up an excuse not to take her shirt off. "...but uh… I can take care of it myself."

Foster ignored her as he ducked into the tent, reemerging a few moments later with her bag of emergency medical supplies. She had a little more with her than she would usually bring, since Foster was hurt and she was worried it might get worse on their way up the mountain.

"Don't be silly," he scolded. "You're hurt."

When Delilah made no move to follow his instructions, he reached forward and started unbuttoning her shirt himself. She squeaked a little as she pushed his giant hands away, undoing the rest of her buttons as fast as she could. Her plan was to strip out of her shirt as fast as she could and then hold it against her chest to hide her obvious arousal. But she forgot the crap she wrapped all over her arm to stop the bleeding. So she ended up sitting in nothing but her bra and a thin strappy tank top with her nipples at full attention as Foster undid the sloppy mess of fabric she tied around her arm. Delilah winced when he pulled her shirt down off her arm. The fabric pulled at her skin and started the slashes bleeding again.

"Sorry," he whispered, hissing like it was his arm that was hurt instead of hers.

Delilah pointed out which items from the pack he should use and in what order. And soon Foster was gently wrapping her disinfected wound with clean gauze as the sun slowly rose behind them. When he finished, he sat back on his heels. In the morning sun, his eyes looked more blue than gray. And Delilah quickly found herself lost in them. Time seemed to slow down and pause as they sat there staring at each other. She reached for his hand, catching it in hers and holding it. Her tongue flicked out, instinctively wetting her lips as he started to lean towards her. But before he could even get close, Remy nearly trampled them both to death.

"Remy! You dumbass!," Delilah hollered after her stupid squirrel chasing dog. Foster laughed.
"He's a good dog," he said. "He wasn't afraid to fight that bear for you." Delilah laughed with him as she turned her attention to the other large animal in the area.
"What are you gonna do with that bear?," she asked. Foster gutted it. So it was pretty obvious he wasn't planning to leave it behind.

"That bear will feed my village for a month," he explained. Delilah nodded. She believed that. But she also wasn't sure how they were going to get themselves, two horses, a dog, and now a giant dead bear, up a mountain. And when she saw Foster cast a hopeful glance towards the large horse he rode this far, Delilah shook her head.

"If he carried me," Foster said. "He can carry a bear."