And truthfully, it didn't matter in general. None of it had brought me happiness, not one single bit. And what were you supposed to do when you had everything in the world and not a goddamned bit of it brought you joy? Where did you go from there? What was left to offer any hope?
I'd tried it all . . . I'd tried it all. Goddamn, I'd tried it all. I sat down heavily on a large boulder, looking around bleakly, hardly able to see anything through the heavy sheets of rain. I was going to die here, either of exposure or by being skewered by a wild boar. Or maybe worse. Probably worse. And I cared about the dying, but I wasn't sure if I cared about being dead. There was peace in death. Quiet.
I was lost, my hands bloody and abraded, out of breath, nauseated, and so damn . . . sad. I was so fucking sad. I felt stripped bare, and all that was left was fear and such terrible sadness. I tilted my head up to the rain and felt it mixing with the hot tears running down my face. Christ, now I was crying? This forest had unmanned me in ways I didn't even want to think about, especially now when I was directionless and alone.
"You've lost your way," came her voice. I lowered my startled gaze and found her standing next to a tree, watching me. Her hair and clothes were drenched by the rain, although she didn't seem to notice. It was as if she had been formed from a magical combination of my own desires and the night itself.
I hesitated for a long time, just looking at her, wondering if she was a dream, letting her words sink in through my skin, right into my heart, my soul. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I know."
She nodded slowly as if in complete understanding. "Come," she said. "I'll help you find your way again."
Relief flooded my system so fiercely it made me dizzy, as I stood and walked toward her, my eyes taking in her details as I drew closer. Her hair was very dark, maybe even black, though it was difficult to tell since it was soaking wet. She had it braided, and it was hanging over one shoulder. Loose tendrils had escaped and were stuck to her cheeks. And her face, God, her face.
She was . . . beautiful.
For a moment, I simply stared. Was she real? Her white lace dress was plastered to her body, showing delicate curves beneath. She had on a pair of brown boots with thick socks sticking out of the top, but no jacket.
"Aren't you cold?" I asked dumbly, a shiver wracking my body, my teeth visibly chattering.
She smiled, her face moving from stunning to breathtaking, her beauty almost otherworldly. "No."
I blinked at her, wondering at how she'd appeared out of the mist. "Are you a dream?" I mused aloud. "Or maybe a . . . ghost?"
She tilted her head, her gaze intent. "I can't imagine being anyone's dream. But a ghost?" She looked thoughtful for a moment, something entering her expression that I didn't know how to read. "Maybe," she whispered. "Yes, I think I might be." And with that she turned and moved in the opposite direction I'd been walking.
I wanted to speak to her, to ask her what she'd meant, but my teeth were chattering so violently I could barely form words, and the headache that had begun earlier was now a hammer pounding at my skull. So instead, I focused on her back and the sweet curve of her ass under her wet dress as she moved surely and swiftly through the forest, leading me out of the darkness, into the luminous glow of the moon. The rain dwindled and then stopped altogether, the night birds seeming to come alive all around us as we walked.
"What's your name?" I finally managed as we walked through the glen I recognized from the other day—the one where I'd seen the pig—and started downhill.
She glanced back at me, biting at her lip, seeming to be considering whether she'd answer or not. But finally she said, "Lily. My name is Lily."
"Lily what?"
"Just Lily."
I caught up to her and walked beside her now that the trees were sparse and there was room for two. Her breath clouded in the air just like mine. If she was really a ghost, she was unlike any ghost I'd ever imagined. Okay, so she didn't want to tell me her full name, but I had to find out something about her. "Where do you live? I was told the nearest town is a couple hours away."
She nodded, looking at me warily from under her lashes. "I live close by."
"But—"
"You shouldn't come into the woods if you don't know where you're going," she said, looking ahead again, back to where we were walking.
I stopped moving and she stopped next to me, gazing up at me questioningly. I hadn't been prepared for her. But I definitely hadn't been prepared for her eyes in the light of the moon: wide and almond shaped, true violet, framed by lush, dark lashes. For a moment my breath hitched. I'd never seen eyes like hers. "I know. I . . . well, I was looking for you," I said distractedly, before I could consider a different answer.
She studied me, her expression suddenly perplexed. "Me? Why?"
I ran my hand through my wet hair, feeling more off balance than I ever had in my life. Why did I suddenly feel like an eighth grade boy at the middle school dance, trying to make conversation with a girl? "I . . . well I saw you, um, the other day . . ."