Chapter Twenty-Four

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Each passing day brings me closer to home. Though, walking there is a gigantic pain in the ass.

The distance seems endless, an impossible feat. Innumerable rivers and hills lie between us and the cave where a time-traveling chair awaits. If we had a car and proper roads, the trip would take only a few hours at most. On foot, it will require weeks of walking before we arrive in the Lake District.

And that's if we can get Alistair to cooperate.

He considers our journey north to be a great adventure. He waxes poetic whenever we stumble across a scenic view. He gets inordinately excited by rare species of grass that look virtually identical to the ones we've seen a million times before (at least, they do to my untrained eyes). And if he spots a seemingly random lump of rock jutting from the ground, he will slam to a halt and give a lecture on local mineral deposits. It could last anywhere from a minute to half an hour depending on the subject matter.

Onya doesn't understand any of the scientific jargon he's yapping about - mainly because he uses English terminology. However, she listens fondly to every word just because he is enjoying himself. She is a saint of patience and understanding.

Then there is Ewar. He couldn't look more miserable if he tried. He will sigh and stare off into the horizon until the lesson is finished. Alistair's frequent unscheduled stops must grate on his nerves. Honestly, they got on my nerves too in the beginning. I have since had a change of heart. Alistair is a walking encyclopedia. Yes, it's an edition dating from the early twentieth century, but who cares? The man is the best teacher I have ever had. I would be lucky to have even a small amount of his wisdom rub off on me.

And that leads us to another advantage of this trip.

When we are not walking or sleeping, I am learning.

Alistair and I greet the rising sun each morning together. We practice balance and breathing exercises which are supposed to reduce stress and heighten awareness. I feel refreshed and ready to tackle anything after our yoga sessions.

In the evening, after a day spent walking, I get with Onya and her bow. She is an excellent teacher as well. After waiting years for someone who isn't suspicious of the "new" weapon, she is happy to show me everything she knows. Each tip she gives improves my skill and deepens my interest in the sport.

Several days under her tutelage, she moves me to a more advanced course - shooting arrows with my eyes closed. I have to depend on my other senses and muscle memory to compensate for my lack of vision. There's nothing like releasing the bowstring, opening your eyes, and discovering the arrow you sent into flight buried itself exactly where you intended.

Alistair and Onya applaud my successes whether great or small.

Ewar watches from the sidelines, his face devoid of expression.

This is a disappointment.

I had enjoyed antagonizing him the first time I handled the bow and arrows. Getting a reaction - even anger - out of him was satisfying. But now he's back as before, indifferent to anything to do with me. I could hit a dozen bullseyes within seconds and he wouldn't dare give his congratulations.

I've been half tempted to fire an arrow at his ass just to see if he possesses feelings at all.

While the rest of us are bonding, Ewar maintains a distance. He prefers the company of his hammering stone and pieces of flint. By the light of the campfire, he sharpens blades, repairs broken spearheads, and performs other mundane tasks. Strangely, he never does anything remotely creative. He hasn't made any animal tokens or spiritual pendants since before we left his village.

Several times I have almost asked him why.

Then, I recall the way he behaved the morning after we slept together. He was so cold and uncaring. He was ready to get me out of his house and life as soon as possible. So, why should I risk showing any concern for him? He would likely reject my olive branch and push me away again.

The safest option is to mind my own business.

Our long journey is divided into stages. In the beginning, we come across other people more often than I had anticipated. The tribes we encounter vary in size, from a few people to a dozen or more. Some are friendly; others are wary. Alistair enjoys interacting with these strangers, and they are usually hospitable once they recognize that the great Mayant-hattatar is there in the flesh. They often give him little gifts of food as a sign of gratitude for the visit.

Ewar, however, isn't as laid back during these brief encounters. He keeps his spear at the ready until we move on.

The warm season has bestowed its fertility to the southern portion of prehistoric Great Britain. Enormous herds of red deer, steppe bison, and wild horses graze on the greenest of grasses. Sometimes we even pass through lush forests and over streams teaming with fish, beavers, and other wildlife. Against one tree we find the hair of a brown bear, evidence that the creature recently used the trunk as a scratching post.

However, as we head further north, the environment changes. The winds turn colder. Trees are replaced with scrawny shrubs. The grass loses its height and vitality. The great herds of the south do not exist in a region where there is less vegetation. Only small herds and solitary animals eke out an existence here.

The four of us ascend a hill. Each person lugs food and other supplies in some form or fashion. When we reach the top, what we see before us makes my breath catch.

A lake stretches out as far as the eye can see.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Alistair says with a smile. "That is what is called a glacial lake. It formed back when the ice sheet stretched all the way here, to the Midlands of fair England. Imagine it. A block of ice taller than any skyscraper, carving out the earth and leaving this behind! It would have been a remarkable sight to behold, I assure you." He points in a northwesterly direction. "The city of Birmingham will spring up somewhere around there one day. Of course, the lake must drain first."

"And when will the lake disappear?"

"I haven't a clue. Could be next week or a thousand years from now." His expression brightens. "Oh, here's an idea! Instead of walking around this obstacle, why don't we go straight through it? We can build a boat! It would cut our walking time by at least a day."

I eye him skeptically. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if the boat capsized when we're halfway across? If memory serves me right, you almost drowned in the Thames when your 'floating shoes' experiment failed."

My reminder of his past works as intended. He purses his mouth. "Hmm. If only I had used more cork for the soles..." After that contemplative moment, he sighs. "You may have a point, Bella. My swimming skills are woefully lacking, and Onya's is worse than mine. Ewar, can you swim at all?"

Ewar had been gazing silently at the lake up until Alistair's question. Slowly, he turns his attention away from the scenery.

"Yes."

Alistair gives a quiet gasp. "Truly? What a surprise! As far as I am aware, most people in this region don't know how. I think it may have something to do with the cool climate. Or, perhaps not having a nearby ocean kept them from giving it a try. For the Bat People to possess knowledge of swimming is... Well, it's an anomaly. Why wouldn't the other tribes have learned it also? I suppose..."

While Alistair blabbers on about the subject, Ewar's gaze drifts to me. His staring makes me nervous. To escape the scrutiny, I tilt my face down, kicking a pebble with my shoe. Seconds later, when I gather the courage to face him, he is no longer looking in my direction.

Ewar never reveals to Alistair the reason why he knows how to swim.

I don't say anything either - mostly because the memories will haunt me if I do.

I am torn away from my pity party by the sound of Onya and Alistair talking. She is shaking her head, visibly distressed. I pick up a few scattered words between them but not enough to understand what might be going on.

"What's wrong with Onya?" I ask.

"We are entering no-man's-land," answers Alistair seriously. "North of this lake, the environment becomes progressively harsher. The tundra is not a place fit for human habitation. The ground is permafrost. Foraging for food is exceedingly difficult most of the year. But even during the warm season you won't find anyone venturing up there. The people of this age believe that the Great Spirits created that inhospitable place. It is a buffer zone to keep trespassers away from their true home - a paradise of untold beauty and fertility located further north. Legends say that if you do not have permission to enter their homeland, they will kill you on the spot." He pauses in his explanation to glance at his wife's worried face. "I told her that we received their permission to enter, but Onya believes she is not worthy enough to step foot where the Great Spirits dwell."

I walk over to clutch her hand, hoping to convey my feelings to her. "Natta, Onya. The Great Spirits will not be offended if you come along. You are more than worthy."

Even after Alistair translates what I said, she still is hesitant. It is only when he promises to let her know when we are close to the entrance of the Great Spirits' homeland does she agree to continue.

As we make our way around the enormous glacial lake, we keep our eyes peeled for danger. Polar bears are few and far between but not unheard of in the area. Far in the distance, we hear a shrill trumpeting. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end. Ewar and I instantly look alarmed.

We both know the sound of an angry woolly mammoth when we hear one.

The four of us walk a little faster, eager to get out of the mammoth's territory.

Another week flies by. We skirt the mountainous terrain of the Peak District as much as possible instead of going through it. The landscape is bleak. There are more rocks than plant life. The few that do exist are short, hardy things not built for beauty. Some offer bland berries, which we pluck off for our food supply whenever we get the chance. Fuel for our campfire consists of dried dung, grass, and the occasional dead shrub. Ewar and Onya take turns hunting to extend our supply of preserved meat. They mainly return with rodent-sized animals or birds. I am more than a little jealous of their abilities. If only I had been taught how to hunt, then I could contribute something worthwhile on this trip.

The days are cool. The nights are freezing. We position our tents closer to the campfire to keep warm. This means that Ewar is close to me at all times now. I am much too aware of this. It's too easy to get caught up in him and what he may be doing. My stomach still flips when he brushes past me. My breathing goes shallow on the rare occasions he speaks.

No amount of yoga or archery practice can fill the hole he left in my heart.

Sleep continues to elude me while inside the tent. My mind wanders to before he and I had our falling out. We were once friends and partners. We got along great. It wasn't until I gave in to my hormones that our relationship went to hell. I shouldn't have flirted with him the night of Damara's festival. If only I had stayed in the friend zone. Then I wouldn't have ruined everything.

A thick fog surrounds our campsite the following morning. I am up early as has been my habit. Alistair wakes up not long after I do. He takes a look around. He says it wouldn't be safe to venture away from the fire until the heavy mist dissipates. Yoga is canceled for the day. He is determined not to deviate completely from his routine, however. Quietly, he heats water over the fire as he does every morning. A couple of handfuls of acorns are roasted and ground thoroughly. The acorn powder is put inside cloth and strained with boiling water. Afterward, we have ourselves some fake coffee to enjoy.

As I sip the piping hot brew, Alistair drinks his in quick gulps. He is eager to return to the tent he shares with Onya since yoga is out of the question. When he is gone, my gaze settles on Ewar. The sun has not yet risen. He is wrapped tightly in a blanket. With his eyes shut, his expression is lighter than usual. He must be having a nice dream. His lips twitch with something like a smile. I haven't seen him look that way since...

I shove away the memory. It's not healthy for me to think of that night.

I continue to gaze at his sleeping form, unable to look elsewhere. My eyes turn misty. There is no sense in pining after someone you can't have. His future is mapped out. I can see it already. He will have a new wife and family of his own - everything he ever wanted. One day he will assume leadership of his tribe. The woman he chose will lend him her full support. Together they will protect those living in the gorge. The tribe will grow and prosper under their guardianship. It is Ewar's destiny.

My destiny isn't as clear-cut. All I know is that it lies approximately 13,000 years from now.

As the sunlight breaks through the fog, I make peace with how things turned out. This is how it should be. He has no feelings whatsoever for me. He will follow the path of his destiny once I am gone.

Our lives were intertwined for months. He was what kept me sane through the madness. While mistakes were made on both sides, I am a better person for having known him.

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We stop for a short rest near a trickle of a stream. These past weeks have made me sore all over. I've never exercised so much in my life. I take a seat on a rock, slip off one of my shoes, and rub my aching foot. This sucks. But at least my legs are developing some nice muscle...

Clouds have become a frequent nuisance. I glare up at the overcast sky. "I guess we have another dreary day to look forward to."

"Yes." Alistair pulls out a brass object from his belt pouch. "It's a good thing that my compass still works."

I tilt my head, a thought just now occurring to me. "Why haven't you used it before?"

"Didn't need to. Guiding yourself using the sun and stars does nicely most of the time."

"The sun and stars? I understand how the sun would help with finding your direction, but how would the stars? Haven't you noticed that the night sky is screwed up here? The North Star points south."

He chuckles at my confusion. "The star you're referring to - Polaris - isn't the pole star during the Ice Age. Vega is the North Star now. It's in the Lyra constellation."

"How is that possible?" I mumble.

"Our lovely little planet wobbles like a top as it spins, my dear. It's a slow process, but over a considerably long period, the orientation of the night sky changes. It's simply fascinating when you think about it. Were you aware that our prehistoric brethren use the stars to guide themselves?"

I peek at Ewar as he waits for the signal to start walking. "Really? I had no idea."

Alistair smiles at me. "Humans have studied the night sky for untold millennia. I suspect some of the cave drawings you may have seen are in actuality depictions of constellations! Of course, most are not the same Greco-Roman figures we were taught. Their prehistoric counterparts are, however, just as rich in imagination and detail. Each has a story. When there's a clear night again, remind me and I will share the one about the Great Hunt. It involves a tribe hunting a monstrous elk - which just so happens to involve the constellation you and I know as Ursa Major..."

The night sky never does cooperate. It hides stubbornly behind a veil of gray clouds.

Alistair's compass ends up being used daily now that the dreary weather refuses to leave. Between the compass and his innate sense of direction, we never once get lost.

He announces our arrival in the Lake District with a proud gleam in his eyes. Instead of charming vistas of lush green, all we see is a barren wasteland of rocks, moss, and the occasional bush just barely clinging to life.

The hills (or fells, as he calls them) give way to mountains. While they are nothing compared to the monoliths of the Rockies or Himalayas, they are majestic in their own right. They possess a haunting beauty. Their ridges are dusted in snow, and they are often shrouded behind a light mist in the early morning hours.

Alistair leads our group through the mountain passes, avoiding the worst routes. We climb only when it cannot be avoided. It is late in the day when he stops suddenly.

He points at a boulder larger than my flat in London.

"A-ha! Bowder Stone at last!" He drops the travois he had been hauling and rushes over to the rock with child-like enthusiasm.

The rest of us stay where we are. That boulder looks ready to topple over. It is balanced precariously on its side. My nerves are tested when he leans against the thing.

Onya whisper-yells. "Alistair, piran arha pars-apēz!" Alistair, get away from there!

"You better do as Onya said," I say in English. "That rock might fall any second."

He chuckles. "I doubt it. This boulder is a national treasure. It will be standing exactly like this all the way until I leave bloody 1922! I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it is still in this position when you are born, Bella. Only an earthquake could take down Bowder Stone."

He does placate Onya by stepping away from it, though.

"I have splendid news for you," he says. "Bowder Stone is located not far from where I left the chair. If the weather cooperates, you'll be on your way home by tomorrow!"

I force a smile. "Great."

It is getting late. We prepare ourselves a campsite. Onya is still nervous about the boulder, so we keep a safe distance from it. With night comes the cold. We huddle near the fire for warmth. Ewar doesn't bring anything to work on, which is a first for him since the start of this trip. He gazes into the flames, watching it consume the combustible grasses and dead branches.

"Bella," calls out Alistair. "Have you given any thought to what you will say when you get back home?"

"Say about what? I thought you would send me back to exactly when I disappeared and that would be that. No one would ever know."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Aren't you forgetting about the chair that brought you here in the first place? It was destroyed. If you show up to your job with it missing, the museum could charge you with theft. You were the last person who had access to it."

I sit up straight as a pin. "Oh shit. You're right! What should I do?"

"There, there. No need to fret. I have a solution, but I'll need to ask some questions first. Now, Bella, give me the details of what happened that evening in the museum. I want to hear everything."

After a calming breath, I do as he requested. I tell him all that I know and some that I can only speculate. At the end of my tale, he hums to himself.

"You say you were scheduled to go on a holiday the following day, correct?"

"Yes. I was planning to visit my mom in Florida, but I canceled the trip a few hours before the incident with your chair. She forgot I was coming and made alternate plans. I - uh - hadn't yet decided what I was going to do with my time off now that I wouldn't be visiting her."

Alistair rubs his hands gleefully. "Perfect! Well... Not your mother canceling on you - but the rest could not be more perfect! The museum will be closed all weekend, which means you will have two entire days to get back to London with the second chair. As long as you can make the switch before the place opens Monday morning, you should be fine. The chairs were part of a matched set, so no one would notice a difference. Do you think you can get yourself and the chair inside the building without being seen by the staff?"

I chew on my lip. "Yeah, I think so. I have a key. And no one ever comes in until eight in the morning."

"Excellent! With that out of the way, we can decide on exactly when we should send you back."

My suggestion of sending me back on the same day I left is met with a thumbs down on his end. He is worried that having two Bellas exist at the same time might cause the space/time continuum to crumble. I couldn't argue with that. Look at the trouble just one of me can cause. Two Bellas would be too much for any universe to handle.

We put our heads together and come to an agreement. He will set my arrival date for early Saturday morning, approximately ten hours after I had been sent backward in time. He assures me it will be easier to get around during the day than the dead of night. And if anyone were to ask why I was in the Lake District, I can just say that I went there for my vacation.

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The sun makes an unexpected appearance the next morning. The air is a little warmer too, from freezing to chilly. I consider it a gift.

This is my last day in the Ice Age.

Alistair is familiar with the terrain. Most of the hills and mountains will go unchanged in the years to come. He guides us more or less directly to where we need to go.

When one particular mountain comes into view, he whoops with joy.

"We're almost there!"

As soon as Onya is made aware of this, her face goes pale. She reminds Alistair of their deal. He assures her it will be safe to travel a little closer.

It is mid-afternoon when we arrive at a valley. Rocks and dust are strewn along the floor. Nestled between two mountains is a glacier. If it wasn't for the ice and snow in the higher elevations, this place would be the equivalent of the surface of the moon.

Alistair gazes fondly at our surroundings. He soon focuses on a certain spot on the largest mountain.

"Mount Hag. See that oddly shaped rock near its summit? That's the Hag's nose! In time, when the Ice Age is a thing of the past, that glacier will melt. The water will trickle down to the eastern section of the valley and form the smallest of the Lake District's famous lakes. It will be the most charming one despite its size, I assure you."

He points westward. "The village of Warkstone will rise there. Just two hundred people will call it home - but you won't find a friendlier place in the entire world. And just down the road from Warkstone will be my ancestral home, Aldenwood. My Tuddleston ancestor built it during the reign of Henry the VIII." He breaks into a sly smile. "Unfortunately, that ancestor had poor taste in design. The house was gaudier than a bordello. It stayed that way for centuries. My great, great grandmother - bless her soul - saved the house. She had the entire place redone properly. She turned Aldenwood into one of the loveliest manors in all of Northern England." He looks at me. "You should visit Aldenwood when you return to your time, Bella."

I give a quick nod. "Yeah, I guess I should. I'll be in the area, anyway."

Pleased by my response, he takes a look around. "We shall put our base camp here. Bella, the cave is less than a half hour's walk from where we are. Why don't you change back into your twenty-first century clothing while the rest of us set up camp. You'll be home before you know it!"

His enthusiasm fails to catch on with me. The end is coming much too soon.

A tent is set up. I crawl inside and strip out of the clothes I am wearing. Fur and nettle fiber is replaced by more modern materials. It feels strange to be in a blouse and jeans again. Even my sneakers seem weird on my feet. I fold up everything I had previously been wearing and place them inside my basket. Many of those items are things Alie and Ehmay made themselves. I'm sure they will appreciate having them back.

The comb Ewar made is my last physical tie to this place. It was a wedding present. It feels wrong to keep it given the circumstances. The right thing to do would be to give it back to him. He could re-gift it. His new wife might like it.

On second thought...

I slip it into the same pocket as my dead phone. The new wife can go kick rocks. This comb is mine.

Exiting the tent, I groan at the wrinkles on my blouse. Smoothing them out is a challenge when you don't have an iron.

When I look up again, I find Ewar watching me.

He is sitting with the others. It looks like he just stubbed his big toe. How can I part ways with him civilly if he's acting like just the sight of me pains him?

Alistair spots me next. "Are you ready?" At my head nod, he reaches for a walking stick. "Good. Onya and Ewar can do as they please while you and I conduct our time-traveling business. Let's get going!"

Before he can take a step, Ewar hops into a standing position. "I... will go," he says in halting English. "Go to cave."

All I can do is stare at him open-mouthed.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Alistair's bushy eyebrows reach his scalp. "Are you certain, Ewar? Onya considers it to be the entrance to where the Great Spirits live. Your traditions say people cannot venture anywhere near-"

"I will go to cave," Ewar cuts in stubbornly. "Want to see."

Alistair ponders a moment. "All right. You are welcome to join us if that is your wish. This shouldn't take long."

"Wait!" I shout in a panic. "I... need to say goodbye to Onya first."

"Of course, of course. Onya would be most upset if you didn't."

I stumble over to Onya like a zombie, still reeling from yet another surprise Ewar has sprung last minute. I can't believe it. He will be there when I am being sent back home.

Will his face be the last thing I see before I go? Will it haunt me forever?

In the time it takes for me to thank Onya for all of her help and to wish her farewell, I have recovered somewhat from the shock. I step back so Onya and Alistair can have their own whispered conversation. She is visibly nervous.

"What if the Great Spirits will not allow you to return?"

"Do not worry, my love. I will be back before sunset."

Their kiss is filled with tenderness and mutual devotion. I look away to give them privacy.

The three of us leave for the cave. Onya keeps her weapons close since she will be guarding the campsite. Ewar brings along a spear, just in case we meet up with any dangerous animals along the way. It feels like early spring instead of summer. The chilled air seeps through the thin layers of my shirt and jeans. Our walk helps keep me somewhat warm.

Alistair regales us with more tales of what life will be like in this valley several thousand years from now. He speaks of emerald green grass, the bluest of skies, and bleating sheep in every field.

"We're getting close," he says, half panting from the walk. "Did I ever share the story of how I found the cave? It happened when I was a young lad. I was out exploring and discovered a small opening near the base of the mountain. To my delight, as I moved away the dirt and rocks, the opening grew larger and larger. It wasn't an old badger den - but an actual cave!

"I made it my special hideout. Never told a soul. Years later, I did some research and discovered I wasn't the only person to have ever known of it. It was once a local curiosity. It had even been on an old map of the county. A small rock slide completely covered the opening sometime in the early seventeenth century. No one dared go near it for fear of another slide. The cave's existence was forgotten. And... Ah, there it is!"

A small hole sits near the bottom of the mountain slope. The three of us walk up the incline, slipping on pebbles as we try to maintain our balance. The entrance isn't large enough to walk through normally. You have to hunch over and hope you don't accidentally knock your head on the rock above.

Before entering, Alistair and Ewar worked together to ignite a cattail torch that had previously been soaked in pine sap. It puts off enough light to illuminate the entire space. The cave is nothing like I had expected. There are no rock formations to impress you. It's small and damp, a slate gray hollow in the mountain. An average apartment living room is larger than this.

The only object of interest is covered by a dingy white sheet.

Alistair attaches the cattail torch to the top of his walking stick and leans it against the wall. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he yanks off the sheet with a flourish, like an old-school magician. The exact duplicate of the chair which brought me to this prehistoric world is brought to light.

I hear a gasp to my left. Ewar stares unblinking at what Alistair just exposed. His hands tighten around the spear, squeezing until his knuckles turn white. He's acting so out of character that I feel obligated to say something.

"What's wrong, Ewar?"

He doesn't respond. He only squints harder at the chair.

Alistair smiles weakly. "This is Ewar's first time seeing a chair. They won't be invented until the era of the Egyptian pharaohs."

I sigh, running my hand through my hair. "Right. I should have thought of that..."

Alistair bends over to examine the many dials and switches lining the armrests. "Hmm. Everything looks to be in order. No rust to be found on the equipment, and the chair itself is in fine shape." He adjusts several dials. "There. I have set the date of your return to the time we agreed upon. The switch you see here initiates the chair's time-traveling capabilities. But first, we must power the chair on."

He flips another switch. The chair hums to life. The cave's confined space amplifies the sound. Our ears are filled with an ominous buzzing, like that of an angry bee.

An arm wraps around my waist. Before I can breathe a word, I find myself shoved behind Ewar. He welds the spear as though he is prepared to battle a fierce beast.

"Kuit apāt?!" What is that?!

Alistair shifts to the native tongue to answer Ewar's question. First, he sits on the chair to demonstrate how it is normally used. The time-traveling aspect is more difficult to explain, but he seems to be putting it into simple enough terms that even an ancient man could understand somewhat.

I slip back around Ewar as the two of them talk. Ewar's forehead is pinched in bewilderment. When Alistair is done explaining, Ewar replies in English.

"It take Bella... away?"

"Yes. She will be gone," Alistair snaps his fingers, "just like that."

"She come back?"

"No. She won't have the chair anymore, so... We will never see her again."

Ewar makes a sound like someone just punched him in the gut. His shoulders rise and fall, heaving for breath. I move closer to check on him.

"Ewar? Are you all right?"

Without warning, he whips around to face me.

"Stay."

That one word knocks the air out of me.

I stumble back a step. "I... What?"

He advances forward, his gaze locked with mine. "Bella, stay. You will stay."

His domineering attitude cures my shock real quick.

I cup a hand around my ear, mocking him. "Hmm. Was that a command I heard? Well, let's get something straight right now, buddy. You're not the boss. I'll do what's best for me, thank you very much."

Ewar looks to Alistair for a translation. Alistair furrows his brows - confused about what's going on - but he complies anyway. Ewar makes a disgruntled noise afterward. He didn't like what I said. I overlook his attitude to finish what I need to say.

"Why would I stay, Ewar? You've ignored me enough to last a lifetime. I can't take a minute more." I stab a finger at the chair. "I have to go home now. And you... You can live your own life again - free from me." My tone turns sour. "It's time for you to settle down with a new woman."

Alistair translates. Something inside Ewar snaps. His eyes burn blazing hot.

"No," he growls.

I do a double-take.

"No? What do you mean 'no'?! That was the plan and you agreed! We spent months tricking everyone into believing I was curing you. I did my part, now it's your turn to get a wife."

He throws down his spear. It clatters against the stone floor. "You are my wife!"

I place a hand over my heart. "Oh, I'm your wife? What a surprise! I thought you forgot who I was considering that you've barely spoken to me for over twenty fucking days!"

Ewar once again looks to Alistair for a translation and delivers a reply. Alistair steps in to help fill the gaps of my limited knowledge of the language.

"Ewar said that you did not talk to him either."

I huff. "Are you kidding me? Alistair, you tell Ewar that I had a reason for not talking to him. Whenever I dared to look at him, he would start glaring like he was auditioning to be the world's biggest asshole."

Alistair scratches the crown of his head. "I'm not sure there is a proper translation for that last word..."

Ewar stalks closer, ignoring Alistair completely. He must have gotten the gist of what I said. "I had..." He pounds a fist against his chest. "Anger."

"Well, you've given me plenty of that too." Crossing my arms, I turn away so he won't see the pain in my eyes. "You were my closest friend, and then you stopped being anything. I was so angry... and hurt." I gather the strength to look at him again. "But as much as you hurt me, I don't like leaving things like this. I'd much rather have you as my friend again before I go home. What do you say?"

Alistair translates. Ewar's eyes lose their fire. He stares at me somberly, his reply almost too low to hear.

Alistair clears his throat. "Ewar says that he believed you two had become more than merely friends. Did the night he spent in your bed mean nothing to you?" His eyes suddenly bulge from their sockets. "Oh." He starts looking back and forth between Ewar and me, understanding dawning on his face. The weeks of us not having much to do with one another was beginning to make sense. "Oh my..."

My cheeks burn bright. Great. Now Alistair thinks I'm a floozy.

I get behind him and begin pushing him toward the cave exit. "All right. Shows over. I need to talk with Ewar alone."

"Bu-bu-but how will you communicate without a translator?!"

"Ewar and I lived together just fine for months. As long as he doesn't lose his tongue again, I think we can manage."

Alistair hesitates at the opening. "If you are certain that is what you want..."

"It is."

He nods. "Very well. I won't be far. Just give a shout if my services are needed again." He glances between Ewar and me skeptically. "And, uh... try not to murder one another. The ground in this region is permafrost. Digging two graves would be dreadful on my back."

"I'll take that into consideration. Thank you."

Alistair leaves the cave. It's only Ewar and me now. His scowling does nothing to de-escalate the tense situation.

I march over and lightly slap his arm. "I cannot believe you told Alistair that we slept together! That was private information."

His forehead wrinkles. "Private?"

I release a weary sigh. "Nevermind. Let's forget that part for the moment. What I want to know is why you're acting like I was the one that hurt you. Yes, I invited you into my bed. But what happened the next day, Ewar? Huh? Do you remember? You rejected me. You pushed me away. You're the one who didn't want me!"

He shakes his head. "No! I wake up. You not in bed. I look out of house, and you..." His teeth clench together. "You wanted to leave!"

At first, nothing of what he said makes sense. But after some thought, things become clearer.

I narrow my eyes. "Are you talking about when you found me by the travois that morning?"

"Yes," he grumbles.

The pieces of the puzzle come together. I let out a groan. My fingers scrape through my hair, ready to tear it out in clumps. "I cannot believe this," I mutter to myself.

"Bella?" A trace of concern has entered his tone.

I look at him tiredly. "Ewar, you thought I was outside getting ready to leave. Didn't you?"

He gives one curt nod.

"You were wrong. I was outside because I wanted to bring my basket back inside the house." I clench my hands into fists. "It was the basket you helped me load on the travois the day before!"

A torrent of expressions crosses his face all at once. He starts pacing within the confined space. Gradually, something like horror fills his eyes.

"Bella, I am sar... I am sor..."

"Sorry, Ewar. The word you're looking for is 'sorry'."

He gulps. "I am... sor-ry."

His pitiful expression causes my pent-up anger to deflate like a popped balloon.

"Yeah. I'm sorry too." I lean my head forward. A curtain of hair blocks me from his view. "I should have tried harder to talk to you - then maybe this mess would have been cleared up sooner. But my feelings were hurt. I thought you didn't really like me. So..."

He tilts my chin up until we make eye contact again. "Like?"

"Ugh. You're gonna make me explain it?" I stop my whining and sigh again. "I thought maybe you didn't have 'fun' with me when we were in bed... that I wasn't good enough. I thought you didn't want to be around me anymore."

He shakes his head vigorously. "No! I like. You much fun."

A strangled, awkward laugh escapes my mouth. "Thanks..."

He moves closer. A lone finger caresses my cheek. The featherlight touch makes me dizzy. "Stay?"

The hopeful way he speaks snaps me out of it. My rational side kicks in. I step out of his reach. "Ewar, I can't stay."

His gaze turns sharp. "Why?"

"You know why! It would never work. We tried getting together and it didn't even last a day!"

He scrunches his face. I press on to prove my point.

"I thought about this a lot, Ewar. Your home is here. Mine is so far away that I can barely understand it. We were never supposed to meet. I am glad that we did, though. I wouldn't trade knowing you for anything. But it's... It's time that I let you go. I have to go home now. It would be best for the both of us."

"No. No go. You are my wife."

"I was your wife by accident. It wasn't planned."

He takes me by the shoulders, almost shaking them. "Planned, yes. Damara's plan."

I stare up into his eyes, startled by his words.

"Oh my God." I slip out of his grasp, hand covering my mouth. After I put some distance between us, I twirl back around. "Don't tell me you actually believe that still? We've talked about this before. Damara didn't plan anything."

"Yes! I go to Damara's forest. She send you!"

I start shaking my head. "No, no, no! That's not what happened. I sat in a chair just like that one over there. I didn't know what it could do. The next thing I know, I'm running through a forest and bumping into you. Me coming here had nothing to do with Damara. It was my fuck up, Ewar. Damara probably had someone else in mind for you and I got in the way."

His scowl returns. "No."

"Yes! Don't you think the Goddess of Fertility would send you someone fertile? Someone who can give you lots and lots of children? Why would Damara send me?" I point at my abdomen. "I have an implant, something inside of me that keeps me from having babies. It was put there because I don't know when - or if - I'll ever want children of my own."

His gaze never leaves my face. "I do not care."

"You don't care? Yeah, the fuck you do! You went to Damara's forest to cure yourself of infertility!"

"No, I go to Damara's forest for wife." He waves a hand in my direction. "She give wife."

I have to smash my lips together to keep from screaming in frustration.

"Well, the wife you got is defective." He gazes back curiously at the new word. "Defective means broken... doesn't work." I start counting my faults on my fingers. "I can't have kids thanks to my implant. I can't forage for food without bringing back something poisonous. I can't make tools or clothes by myself because I don't know how. I am useless!"

He winces, as though each word I said physically pained him. "Bella, you... you make happy. I am happy... with you."

Tears fill my eyes, threatening to spill over. I shake my head. "You only think that way because you've been lonely. You said it yourself - you went to Damara to ask for a wife. It didn't matter who it was as long as you got one. It's not like you went there looking for me."

"Damara know what I need," he says stubbornly. "She send you."

"She did not! I don't worship her, I don't believe in her, and I never even heard of her until I met you. I'm not the type of woman she would send to you. Damara would probably hate that you were ever with me!"

As soon as those words are out of my mouth, he seizes the Damara pendant around his neck. The leather cord is no match against his strength. One quick jerk is all it takes for him to rip it off.

"No more worship Damara." He drops the pendant to the ground. It bounces to a stop several steps away.

I swoop down to pick it up. The stone is cool in my grasp. I shove it at him. "Oh no you don't! You're not giving up your beliefs for me! Take it back."

"No."

"Quit being so stubborn! Take the damn pendant."

He shakes his head.

My gaze narrows as does his. It is a battle of wills and I refuse to be the loser.

"I'm not good for you. You need a good wife, someone who can give you everything I can't."

A memory returns. Red-hot anger spreads through my veins. It takes all my self-control to keep myself from showing it.

"There is one woman who would make the perfect wife for you," I say through a gritted smile. "You didn't seem to mind having her around the night of Damara's festival."

He stares back quizzically, as if I had told him an unsolvable riddle.

"Don't tell me you forgot." I give my chest a good shake in mockery. "Essa's private boob dance. Remember? Her tits were practically shoved right under your nose!"

"Essa?"

"That's right, Ewar. You and Essa!"

He sneers as though he just stepped in a pile of dog poop. "No Essa!" His voice softens along with his gaze. "I do not want Essa."

My eyes shut in relief. It feels like I am taking my first real breath in weeks. I shouldn't celebrate that he doesn't want Essa, but I can't help myself.

I open my eyes again. Ewar is staring at me strangely, one eyebrow slightly lifted. His expression shifts from confusion to certainty in an instant.

He knows now.

Even with all my big talk, he sees the real me - the one who gets crazy jealous at just the thought of him playing happy family with someone else.

He swoops forward, capturing me in his arms. How can you be caged but still feel free? The moment his lips touch mine, I am officially lost. The days he spent avoiding me are forgiven and forgotten. He kisses me deeply, with a desperation that speaks to my heart and soul. I return it with equal fervor.

At some point, we must break apart to breathe. I gulp in air like there's no tomorrow, my fingers still digging into his tunic. He pants into my ear, sending warm shivers down my spine.

"Stay, Bella."

He places gentle, closed-mouthed kisses along my face and neck. Every so often, he murmurs "stay" into my skin. His voice is honey, sweet and thick on the tongue. I never believed in the power of hypnotism until this moment. With each kiss and whispered plea, I feel myself falling harder.

His close proximity is overpowering. I can't think. My mind is full of only him. Lightheaded and confused, I force myself to step away. Dizziness follows. I stumble over to the only place I can sit.

The chair.

Ewar is reluctant to get anywhere near the strange invention. The distance I put between us clears the fog inside my head. I can sort my thoughts rationally again.

To stay here would be an act of lunacy. My life would be made of daily struggles and neverending labor. I would have to rely on the people around me to survive. Danger would lurk everywhere, from beasts on the prowl to deadly diseases. Dark, cold winters would stretch on for months. Only Ewar's presence would keep me warm.

Then, there is the time that I call home.

It promises an easy, push-of-the-button lifestyle where all of your needs are taken care of. Foraging for food isn't necessary. Laundry is washed inside expensive machines instead of your nearest water source. Hands stay soft and manicured. Your belly is always full.

My job. My scatterbrained mother. They are waiting for me.

I know what I have to do.

Ewar has been watching and waiting while my mind wandered. Guilt eats away at my conscience. He has always been there for me. Even when we had our misunderstanding and he thought I had abandoned him, he couldn't stay away. And what have I done in return? I hurt him over and over again. He is a wonderful man. He deserves so much more than I could ever give.

My finger finds its way to the chair's armrest. It hovers over the switch. I meet his eyes, ignoring the chair's incessant buzzing.

"I'm sorry, Ewar."

His expression falls into despair. "Bella..."

With one last breath, I gather the courage to make my decision final.

And I flip the switch off.

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A/N- Before anyone gets upset, please read that last line again.

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