“There’s a lot of ground to cover. May I carry you?”
The idea of Thomas carrying me in his arms made my insides go hot and cold in alternating flashes. I nodded. He stepped close, crowding me, and then bent and picked me up with ease. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He looked down at me, our faces not far apart.
“Hold on,” he said. And then he ran.
Wind whipped in my face and stung my eyes. I didn’t turn away from it, though. I let go with my left hand, trusting him to keep me steady, and pushed the hair from my eyes. Then I watched it all.
He wove between the trees with ease, lightly leaping over shrubs and bramble. Animals quieted at his approach and scurried from his path when he neared. I’d never felt so alive than those moments in his arms, beaten by the wind.
He ran like that for at least ten minutes. When the trees started to thin, he wasn’t even winded. He slowed to a walk as he stepped out into sunlight. The trees before us had died with the expansion of the marsh and stood like large, dark sticks poked into the ground. Birds flew overhead.
He’d wanted to show me the marsh?
He gently set me on my feet as I continued to look around.
“This way,” he said, taking my hand.
We skirted the edge of the marsh, the spongy ground giving just slightly with each step. As we walked, making our way east, the weeds and reeds thinned and larger pools became visible. The trees to our right suddenly disappeared into a large clearing. At first, I thought it an extension of the marsh. Then, I noticed the tall grass instead of reeds.
“Anton found this while trying to catch pheasants. He was watching what they ate and checking if there was a food source we could gather and store for the winter...if we manage to cage any of them.”
The reminder of our attempts made me cringe, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t offered to help Anton again.
“We think this might be an old garden from the people who used to live here.”
Excited, I parted grass as I walked forward. The grass outlined a very large and very weed filled garden. Onions grew in a thick patch. Wild, their green tops were much larger than their bulbs. I found carrots growing in random areas toward the trees, away from the damp soil near the marsh. There were some chewed on melons, a few small green striped pumpkins, stalks of multi-colored corn, vine beans, and many varieties of squash.
“This is amazing,” I said. I wanted to start picking things. Thomas seemed to read my mind.
“Before you pick anything, I want to show you one more thing. It’s not useful like this. Just pretty.”
That he’d described something as pretty piqued my interest.
We walked further east, away from the garden and back into the trees. The cool damp air of the woods seemed to grow even cooler with each step. In the break of branches, I caught a bright flash of light. Moments later, I stepped out of the trees onto the lapping shoreline of a lake. My shoes made divots in the sand as I walked to the water. I could see the sandy bottom several feet out.
It was clean, untouched by man, and beautiful. It stretched far enough that the trees on the opposite shore appeared tiny, less than a half an inch if I held up my fingers to measure. I kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pant legs.
“It’ll be cold,” Thomas said, and it was.
While I stood in the water, fish swam close. Small little things that made me smile. The large one that darted after the little ones made my eyes round.
“Thomas,” I said in a quiet voice. The big fish stopped moving, turned, and seemed to be contemplating my toes.
I heard the water rippled behind me then a low chuckle. “It’s just a fish.”
“Do you eat fish?” I asked. The better question would have been if he was fast enough to defend my toes.
“Do you?” he asked.
“Not lately.”
He dove forward. It wasn’t a pretty, neat dive; it was a huge, clothes-soaking splash. Then, he seemed to beat the surface. I could barely see him with the amount of water flying in the air. Suddenly, it stopped.
He stood before me with the fingers of one hand hooked in the gills and the other hand holding the tail of the fish. It was more than shoulder width on Thomas. He looked very proud of himself.
We stared at each other for several heartbeats. I held myself still with my arms slightly out from my sides. I was soaked. Water dripped from my chin and ran into my eyes.
He burst out laughing.
Three large fish, onions, carrots, and rice baked in the oven while Thomas and I worked together to heat bathwater. We stunk like fish. He’d carried me home, and I had to carry the fish and onions.
In the silence, it struck me that since waking I hadn’t seen anyone else.