Free Dark Moon Walking by R. J. McMillen Page B

her face a pale oval in the deepening gloom.
    â€œWalker!”
    There was more feeling packed into that single word than he had heard in many years, and the depth of his response stunned him. He had expected her reaction. He had not expected his own.
    The surge of emotion brought with it a wave of memories that almost overwhelmed his senses: woodsmoke and laughter; the sour smell of eulachon grease; the sheen of dancing bodies; hot sweat mixed with cedar; the insistent beat of a drum. They were so intense, so vivid, he forgot where he was for a moment, forgot the girl, forgot the black ship. The tick of a falling twig brought him back, and the sudden transition was disorienting. Disturbed and off-balance, he fought for calm. He could revisit the memories later. He needed to focus on the present.
    A smile glimmered on Claire’s face, allowing him to read both her pleasure and relief at his arrival, but it was so brief, he thought it must be tempered with something else. Perhaps she was just cold and tired. She had made no attempt to stand, and now she turned and looked back out at the ocean, tension still written in the tightness that gripped her body. For a moment he worried that she was hurt, but he would have seen the signs if that were the case. Quickly he scanned the area again. Was there someone else there? Had his noisy scrabble alerted the men who were searching for her?
    She glanced back up at him, the smile gone, then turned back toward the ocean. Crawling forward, he let his gaze follow the dark shape of her raised arm, out past the pale hand and pointing finger. There, almost hidden in the night shadows that wrapped the maze of islets, was a tiny gleam of light. It flickered as the breeze stirred the trees, and heavy branches blocked his view, but as he stared through the fading light, he realized he could just make out the dark outline of a large boat. Almost certainly the black ship.
    His breath caught in his throat, and his voice was barely a whisper as he called down to her. “How long’s it been there?”
    Her shrug was a barely discernible movement of shadowy darkness, but he heard it in her voice. “I got here last night—well, early this morning, I guess. I noticed it just after it got light.”
    â€œHave you seen the dinghy?”
    She nodded. “Two of them. Two people in each one. They left together this morning, but then they split up. One came back this afternoon, but it left again.” She glanced back at him, eyes dark against pallid skin. “And I heard an outboard yesterday too. At another island. Three or four times. And the day before as well.”
    â€œYeah. Me too.” He looked down at her, feeling her fear grow again. “Hungry?”
    She stared up at him for a long moment and then the outline of her body relaxed onto the rock. “Oh, God! I’m starving. Have you got anything?”
    He reached back and took the bag off his belt, holding it out over the edge so she could see it. “How does smoked salmon and fresh berries sound?” he asked. “You’ll have to come up here, though. I don’t think I can get down there.”
    â€œOkay, but it’ll take me a while. I have to go round to the other side to get off the ledge.”
    Walker wasn’t sure he liked the idea of her clambering around the cliff. “It’s pretty dark. You gonna be all right?”
    â€œI’ll be fine. I’ll take it slow. It’s not as bad as it looks from up there. Besides, there’ll be more light on the other side. The sun hasn’t been down that long.”
    It was almost half an hour before she appeared beside him. For a while he had listened to the small sounds she made as she moved slowly along the ledge, but soon they had stopped and he’d sat listening to the silence and watching the flicker of the light through the trees.
    â€œWalker!” she said again as she slid to the ground beside him. “It is