Page 2 of Avenging Angel

“And then another. And another. And another.”

Hours pass before I hear the faintest echo of my captor yelling in frustration when he discovers I’m gone. The sound freezes me in place because he has a way to see and knows the cave system, while I’m walking blindly, listening to a voice give me directions and getting weaker by the second. Thirst and hunger overcome me.

“Keep going. The path ahead of you will challenge your will to survive, Sadie. There will be times you’ll pray for death. But know that you are meant for a greater purpose.”

That’s when the sound of trickling water hits my ears and gives me the burst of strength I need to keep moving. Keeping one hand in front of me and one hand on the wall to my right, I make my way toward the noise. The cave floor becomes slick with moisture the closer I get. Eventually, I find the source of the water along with a source of light coming through a hole high above the underground lake.

After a week of darkness, the beam of light reflecting off the water appears bright. I fall to my knees at the edge and add my tears to the sparkling pool of liquid salvation. It’s not a way out, but it’s just what I need to keep going. I drink my fill, not caring if it’s safe to do so. It’s worth the risk if it means a few more days of life. The water is blissfully cold and soothing to my parched throat.

I can’t stay here for much longer with my captor closing in. I look around and see several tunnels from where the water has eroded a path to escape. I just need to follow one of them. Any of them should take me in a different direction from where I came from. Unfortunately for me, my “friend” is no help in choosing, remaining silent while I decide. As I skirt around the water, I feel a tug on my coat toward the second tunnel. I check and see that I’m snagged on a protruding rock.

“I thought you were pulling me in the direction you wanted me to go,” I say out loud. Waiting a beat for a response that never comes, I figure this tunnel is as good as any.

What feels like days later, and just when my hope is nearly gone, the tunnel opens up and daylight floods the exit. Mountain peaks and snow-covered trees come into view. Blessed tears of joy stream down my cheeks and turn into tiny ice crystals the moment they hit the ground. The words I heard in my head come back as a reminder while I stare at nothing but a vast wilderness sprawling further than my eyes can see.

“Keep going. The path ahead of you will challenge your will to survive, Sadie. There will be times you’ll pray for death. But know that you are meant for a greater purpose.”

With nothing more than the clothes on my back, the boots on my feet, and the reminder that faith has gotten me this far, I choose to walk the path laid before me. I don’t know where it leads or whether I have enough strength left to reach the end, but standing still means giving up, and I refuse to do that. One step at a time, I choose to believe that this is not the end for me.

The sun has risen and set 18 times since I escaped the caves, making my way down the mountains and surviving off cattail shoots near the edges of lakes and various berries I’ve found along the way. I stuck to the huckleberries, thimbleberries, and nagoonberries that I was familiar with from the times my family and I would forage during our hikes. The temperatures have been dropping to the point where my coat is no longer keeping me warm, and I’m losing the feeling in my fingertips.

As the clouds above my head darken, I know it’s time to seek shelter, though the thought of spending another night alone in the cold makes my already-heavy legs feel even heavier.

“Are you Sadie?” a man asks as he walks up to me with a pack on his back. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, with olive-colored skin, hair as black as coal, and eyes the color of Caribbean waters.

Despite his beauty, I take a step back and prepare to run. “Wait,” he says in a way that instantly stops me from bolting. It’s commanding, but not urgent. He holds his hands up in a placating gesture that I’m sure is meant to calm me. Surprisingly, it works, as does the soothing and gentle tone of his voice. For some reason, I feel at peace in his presence, but don’t have the courage to tell him my name.

“Who wants to know?” I squeak out.

He chuckles. “My name is Uri. Sadie, you’ve been missing for almost three weeks. It’s quite a surprise to find you out here in the middle of nowhere. You’ve been written off as either a runaway or presumed to be dead. To think that you survived all this time.”

“Well, you’re out here,” I say, still keeping my distance even though every part of me wants to step closer to him. “That means nowhere can’t be far from somewhere.”

“That’s true,” he replies with a soft chuckle. His voice sounds an awful lot like the one in my head that has been urging me not to give up, to pick myself up off the snow-covered ground, or to curl up under exposed tree roots when a storm came through. Three times I prayed to die, and each time a whispered word gave me strength to go one more day.

Have I gone from imagining a voice to giving it a face?

Uri holds out his hand to me. “Let’s get you to safety, Sadie. Let’s get you home.”

With trembling fingers, I hesitantly wrap my fingers around his. Instantly, warmth infuses me and thaws every part of my body from my ears to my toes. Hope fills my chest, so sudden and overwhelming that for one precious second, I almost forget how tired I am. Yet, when I use the last bit of energy left and take another step, my knees buckle underneath me. “I don’t have the strength to go any further,” I tell him as my eyes close of their own accord.

He lifts me from the ground and whispers in my ear. “Don’t worry, Sadie. I have enough strength to carry you.”

When I wake up, I’m lying in a bed with wires and tubes coming from my body and the sound of a machine beeping to the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“Good morning, little one,” a woman with graying hair and kind eyes says as she stands in the doorway with a mug in her hand. Next to her is an older man that emanates the sweet “grandpa” vibe without him having to say a word. “You’ve been asleep for two days. My name is Sarah, and my husband’s name is Abel. You’re fortunate to be alive.”

“Where’s Uri?” I ask in a hushed voice.

“Oh, is that his name? He never said who he was. Just told us who you were and warned us to keep quiet about it. Then he disappeared. There one second, then gone the next! Craziest thing I’ve ever witnessed, let me tell you! He did say that we can trust Officer Petrov, so she’s who we called. Are you hungry?”

My stomach rumbles and answers for me.

Sarah steps into the room and offers me the mug. “It’s homemade chicken bone broth, and it should be easy enough on the stomach. We’ll get you something more substantial when you can handle it.”

I sit up and take the offering with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Sweetie. You’ve been through a lot. Everyone in these parts thought you were dead. At least that’s what the news was saying. The other story circulating is that you ran away. To survive alone under such conditions at such a young age is a testament to your strength and will to live. When your friend found you and brought you to us, you were hypothermic and on death’s door.”