Aerenden: The Child Returns (Ærenden) by Kristen Taber Page A

another should disrupt her body and shake her mind. Yet she
felt nothing.
    They
had not leapt into a wormhole. Nick had not tugged her after him into a
swirling vortex. She had simply stood in place, the ground solid beneath her
feet as the barn disappeared, its wooden roof yielding to an endless sky
decorated with brilliant stars and a low hanging moon. A large clearing replaced
wood walls and tall trees replaced the policemen. Even the frigid weather warmed
to a manageable temperature.
    “That
was anti-climactic,” she quipped.
    Nick
grinned and let go of her hand. “I’m afraid reality can’t compare to fiction
where portal travel is concerned.”
    He
turned to scan the horizon and his grin dissolved. She tried to sense the
emotions behind the mood change, but he blocked her still. Inhaling a deep
breath, she used the motion to calm her mounting anxiety. Today had been more
than she could handle. She chased a tear away from the corner of her eye, and
then tucked her hands into her pockets when Nick turned to look at her.
    “It’s
not as cold here,” she said. “Is the climate more temperate?”
    “It’s
about the same,” he responded. “We’re a season behind where you lived on Earth.
It’s autumn now. It’ll start getting colder soon, but it should be better
travel for us.”
    “That’s
good.” Rocking back on her heels, she glanced away, toward the distance where
she thought he had been looking. Through the darkness, she could see the faint
outline of a mountain range. “Can you sense any better how far we have to
travel?”
    He
shook his head. “I won’t be able to tell where we are until daylight. We’ll
need to stay put for the rest of the night.”
    The
apprehension in his voice drew her gaze back to him. She scanned his face in an
effort to sense what he felt, but again found emptiness. He walked to a fallen
tree and sat down.
    “I
think it would be best for you to get some rest,” he told her. “If you lay the
blanket on the grass here, you should be comfortable enough to sleep for a few
hours. I’d like to be moving again at dawn.”
    She
slipped the backpack off her shoulder. Opening it, she removed the blanket and
spread it on the ground before joining him on the log.
    “You
need sleep too,” she said.
    “I
slept enough. I’ll stand guard. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
    She
frowned, then clasped her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, attempting to
see if she could force her power past his block. She soon realized the effort
was as useless as trying to speak a foreign language without taking any
lessons. The ability to read emotions came naturally to her and as a result,
she knew nothing about controlling it. She tightened her hands in her lap and
turned her gaze toward the mountains again in an effort to hide her growing
frustration.
    There
were four peaks. They followed each other, black against the night sky so that
she almost could not make out the last one in the distance. They reminded her
of the mountains near her home where she and her parents had camped every year
since she was a small child. Their most recent trip had been at the end of the
summer. She could still smell the campfire and hear her mother laughing at her
father’s ghost stories. It had been one of their best trips, although they had had
to cut it short so Meaghan could meet with her advisor at the university. The
appointment had seemed important then, but now she wished she had moved it to
have more time with her parents. Grief stabbed through her and she closed her
eyes against it.
    “What’s
wrong?” Nick asked. She opened her eyes, but did not respond. “Meg, talk to
me.”
    “I’m
fine.”
    “You’re
not.” He placed a hand on her arm. “You’re upset. You’re trying to hide it, but
I can tell. What’s going on?”
    “I’m…”
she hesitated, and then sighed, “frustrated. I don’t like this.”
    He
raised his hand to her cheek. “I realize the situation is hard, but by