little girl?
Crouching down beside Dessa, he couldn’t imagine how she could sleep so peacefully—how she could make herself so comfortable on the bare ground. Then again, she wasn’t like him. He didn’t even feel comfortable in his own skin anymore—and maybe he only had himself to blame.
Nick felt his chest constrict, remembering his little sisters and the way they had cried out for him as the crushed car sparked and teetered at the edge of the highway. He’d tried to get to them, but he’d been trapped. His legs had been pinned beneath the steering column and the seat belt at his throat. Like a chain, like a tether.
For months afterward, he’d been trapped in that hospital bed in casts, locked up, and he’d sworn to himself that he’d never let himself be trapped again. But what was this life as a chimera, but one more cage?
Dessa startled awake, squinting into the morning light. She was in a forest, but not her forest, and the events of the night before came flooding back.
“Nick?” she called softly. When there was no answer, she realized she was clutching something in her hand. It was a playing card—not the joker, but the queen of hearts. On it was a scrawled note. I’m not a deserter, Dessa. I’m just bad luck for little girls.
So guilt had broken him. Maybe all soldiers felt it. But he didn’t bear all the blame for what had happened in Afghanistan, and Dessa had been wrong to let him think otherwise. She dressed hurriedly, hoping not to run into any tourists as she found her way back toward a concrete path. She worried Nick might be lost, wandering the woods, but she didn’t feel the essence of her heart tree close by. The steady rhythm was missing, leaving an emptiness in her chest.
She was too late. Nick was gone.
Dessa told herself that she should accept it. With her hand absently stroking her belly, she knew that he’d given her the one thing she most wanted. But she was filled with regret for the things she hadn’t said. If she’d tethered him, she’d be able to find him. She’d be able to pull him to her without even trying. But she’d kept her promise and let him free—now she might never see him again.
Stumbling back to the resort, Dessa didn’t even answer the manager when he asked her where she’d been and whether or not she planned to report for work. She just found her purse and keys, went to the parking lot and drove off.
She didn’t know where she was driving until she got there, but once she pulled into the parking lot of the Brisbane Airport, it seemed to make sense. She’d get a flight back to Afghanistan, or at least as close as she could get.
But after she’d purchased her ticket and made her way toward the gate, something pulled her in another direction. She turned, passed the duty-free shops and kept going. The noise of the airport was an assault on her tender dryad ears…but beneath the chatter and announcements, she thought she heard a distinct pulse, and one that she knew.
One she did know.
Nick was in line for a flight to Los Angeles. He was wearing dark shades, and his dress shirt was rumpled from the night before, but he looked still to be one man, and his shoulders were squared like he was marching into battle.
“Lieutenant,” she whispered just behind his ear.
He spun around, his expression both startled and relieved. “You’ve gotta stop doing that, Dessa.”
Sheepishly, Dessa said, “I know, but I couldn’t let you leave thinking that what happened in Afghanistan was your fault.”
Nick seemed acutely aware of the stares of his fellow passengers and, in spite of the flight attendant’s glare, he got out of line and ushered Dessa away from the crowd. “Dessa, it was my fault. I might not have called in the air strike—I didn’t personally shell your forest. But there were other air strikes I did call in and other forests I probably burned. I could’ve made those little girls leave—”
“I don’t think you could have,”
Crouching down beside Dessa, he couldn’t imagine how she could sleep so peacefully—how she could make herself so comfortable on the bare ground. Then again, she wasn’t like him. He didn’t even feel comfortable in his own skin anymore—and maybe he only had himself to blame.
Nick felt his chest constrict, remembering his little sisters and the way they had cried out for him as the crushed car sparked and teetered at the edge of the highway. He’d tried to get to them, but he’d been trapped. His legs had been pinned beneath the steering column and the seat belt at his throat. Like a chain, like a tether.
For months afterward, he’d been trapped in that hospital bed in casts, locked up, and he’d sworn to himself that he’d never let himself be trapped again. But what was this life as a chimera, but one more cage?
Dessa startled awake, squinting into the morning light. She was in a forest, but not her forest, and the events of the night before came flooding back.
“Nick?” she called softly. When there was no answer, she realized she was clutching something in her hand. It was a playing card—not the joker, but the queen of hearts. On it was a scrawled note. I’m not a deserter, Dessa. I’m just bad luck for little girls.
So guilt had broken him. Maybe all soldiers felt it. But he didn’t bear all the blame for what had happened in Afghanistan, and Dessa had been wrong to let him think otherwise. She dressed hurriedly, hoping not to run into any tourists as she found her way back toward a concrete path. She worried Nick might be lost, wandering the woods, but she didn’t feel the essence of her heart tree close by. The steady rhythm was missing, leaving an emptiness in her chest.
She was too late. Nick was gone.
Dessa told herself that she should accept it. With her hand absently stroking her belly, she knew that he’d given her the one thing she most wanted. But she was filled with regret for the things she hadn’t said. If she’d tethered him, she’d be able to find him. She’d be able to pull him to her without even trying. But she’d kept her promise and let him free—now she might never see him again.
Stumbling back to the resort, Dessa didn’t even answer the manager when he asked her where she’d been and whether or not she planned to report for work. She just found her purse and keys, went to the parking lot and drove off.
She didn’t know where she was driving until she got there, but once she pulled into the parking lot of the Brisbane Airport, it seemed to make sense. She’d get a flight back to Afghanistan, or at least as close as she could get.
But after she’d purchased her ticket and made her way toward the gate, something pulled her in another direction. She turned, passed the duty-free shops and kept going. The noise of the airport was an assault on her tender dryad ears…but beneath the chatter and announcements, she thought she heard a distinct pulse, and one that she knew.
One she did know.
Nick was in line for a flight to Los Angeles. He was wearing dark shades, and his dress shirt was rumpled from the night before, but he looked still to be one man, and his shoulders were squared like he was marching into battle.
“Lieutenant,” she whispered just behind his ear.
He spun around, his expression both startled and relieved. “You’ve gotta stop doing that, Dessa.”
Sheepishly, Dessa said, “I know, but I couldn’t let you leave thinking that what happened in Afghanistan was your fault.”
Nick seemed acutely aware of the stares of his fellow passengers and, in spite of the flight attendant’s glare, he got out of line and ushered Dessa away from the crowd. “Dessa, it was my fault. I might not have called in the air strike—I didn’t personally shell your forest. But there were other air strikes I did call in and other forests I probably burned. I could’ve made those little girls leave—”
“I don’t think you could have,”
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