Ferryman by Claire McFall Page B

though, and she felt her stomach tightening. Her heart started to beat faster and she had to concentrate on inhaling through her nose to keep her breathing under control.
    Tristan continued to stare keenly forward for another moment, then turned to look at her. For a short while his eyes glowed vividly, like blue flames. Dylan gasped quietly, but the next second they were as black as coals in the night and she was left wondering whether she had imagined it.
    The wind seemed to pick up as they stood there, whipping around them. The noise rushed in Dylan’s ears, but above it she thought she detected a faint howling. The same animal noises they had heard earlier. Tristan had said that they were nothing to worry about, but his rigid posture told her otherwise.
    “Wolves?” she mouthed, too frightened to speak. He nodded. Dylan looked back at the landscape in front of them, searching the black grasses for the silhouettes. It was still empty.
    “What are we going to do?” she whispered. Anxiety had pushed her unconsciously closer to him, seeking protection, and she was able to murmur into his ear.
    “There’s a derelict wooden cabin at the bottom of this hill.” His words were whispered too, but fervent. “We need to reach it. We’re going to have to go a little faster, Dylan.”
    “But where are they?” she whispered back.
    “It doesn’t matter right now; we just have to move.”
    His words frightened Dylan. She scanned the dark, half hoping that the danger would reveal itself, half hoping that it would not. She could see nothing, but the darkness was thickening somehow. Even the ground at her feet was now just a black shadow. If she tried to go faster she would fall, possibly taking Tristan down with her.
    “Tristan, I can’t see,” she mumbled, fear making her voice catch.
    “I’ve got you,” he said, and the certainty in his voice gave her courage, warmed the chill in her chest. He reached for her hand, fingers curling around hers and then gripped it tightly. Dylan realised with a start that this was the first time they had touched. She was nearly glad that it was dark. Despite the horror of the moment, she felt almost jittery from the contact. His hand was very warm, and the hold he took on her fingers was strong. Immediately she felt safer. His confidence was obvious in every word, every movement. It gave her confidence, too.
    “Let’s go,” he said.
    He led the way forward at a much faster pace. Dylan tried to keep up, but the darkness was thick and she could no longer see the rocks or clumps of grass, and so she tripped and stumbled often, already unbalanced from descending such a steep incline. Her trainers were old and the treads on them were worn. At one point she put her foot down heavily on a patch of gravel and it slid right out from under her. Her other foot tried to find purchase on the ground but it hit the hill at an awkward angle. Forced to put her full weight on it, the muscles in her ankle wobbled and strained, trying to hold her upright. She felt a sharp pain as the joint twisted under her. With a whimper, she felt herself falling, her leg buckling, but Tristan’s hand kept a firm grip on hers and he tensed his arm, yanking her to a halt and stopping the back of her head smacking against the cold ground. At that moment he seemed to be impossibly strong. With just one arm he pulled her back upright, almost lifting her off the ground before settling her back on her feet. In the next second he was urging her forward again.
    “Almost there,” he said, slightly breathless.
    Looking forward, Dylan thought she could make out the faint outline of a building not far ahead. It was, as Tristan had said, a wooden cabin. As they moved closer the details began to appear. This place had a door still intact, with two glass windows on either side. The roof was a steep apex with a little slightly lopsided chimney poking out at one end. They would reach it in just a couple of minutes with the pace