CONFLICT IN THE COVE
ELLIOT LAKE MYSTERIES 3
CHAPTER ONE
ELLIOT LAKE MYSTERIES 3
CHAPTER ONE
October
The headaches were getting worse.
What used to be an unpleasant pressure in her temples had moved to the top of her head where it throbbed endlessly, showing no mercy. Jarring voices swam through her brain, snaked into her soul, rattling her apart, every moment of every day.
A few more steps and she would be out of range—at least for a few hours.
Almost there.
The leaves crunched under her feet. Brown and gold and red. Crisp air blew across her face turning her nose red and her cheeks a ruddy pink as the sun’s rays poked through the spindly tree branches above.
Her jade green eyes looked to the valley below. She’d traveled far, but the smell of campfire was strong and she could still hear voices below—the shouts of her cousins running in the clearing, her uncle yelling to her grandfather, her grand-mother’s laughter. But their thoughts still pushed at the edges of her mind.
She pulled the homemade sweater tighter around her small frame and continued to climb.
Almost there.
The farther she walked above the Cove, the more the pain lessened to the dull ache she’d experienced during the summer months. Her shoulders relaxed as she continued her leaf-crunching, wisps of breath trailing from her mouth as she exhaled in the chilly autumn air. Using the small tree trunks on either side of the path, she pulled herself up the steep incline to reach her destination.
Almost there.
The path wound around a large tree at the top of a short bluff and then she arrived at a rock outcropping above the Cove. From there she could see everything: the trailers in a half circle, the clearing, the tables, the gardens. But she was far enough away that the thoughts of her family and friends could no longer penetrate her mind, the black cloud of their emotions and energy too heavy to rise this high, still stuck in the valley below.
Stay down there, far away from me.
They wondered where she went every day, but it wasn’t her intention to make them worry. It was also not her intention to shirk her chores. It just grew more impossible every day to be around anyone, even her family—her mother, her sisters. Tamping down the thoughts and feelings and reactions and emotions of everyone was becoming too difficult a task. It had become her only chore, and it was taking over her whole world.
She’d left before breakfast but grabbed an apple and oat cakes before escaping to the path that led to her lookout. The food helped her calm down and the clean forest air she breathed was like a promise. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today would be the day she could return to the Cove and the prattling tangle of broken thoughts would leave her alone.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at the Cove below. Her Uncle Tree ran through the clearing after Brook and River who giggled and shrieked.
Luna hung clothes on the line. With this wind they’d be dry in no time.
Her mother cooked over the open fire in the center of the clearing. Oatmeal with raspberries today.
She wanted to be down there. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be happy and free. She wanted to not know things.
She didn’t want to know how Luna felt when Lark ran his hand up her arm, down her back, to her chest when they thought no one was watching.
She didn’t want to know how lonely her mother was with Elliot so far away, how she cried herself to sleep at night, that as each day passed, she chose her children’s safety over her own happiness.
She didn’t want to know how empty her grandfather felt because his career had stopped when he left the North and now he walks around with an empty space inside himself, forced to live a simple life, his mind shriveling up from disuse.
And her grandma, who spent her days keeping everyone together and moving forward, fed, clothed, and happy; was always anxious, always worried, always waiting for the Bad Thing to happen.
She didn’t want to know how light Meadow’s brain was, how easy it was for her to live each day like a dandelion puff dancing in the breeze. She wished she could be like her younger sister. She craved that lightness and to revel in a world that held nothing but joy and beauty and life.
She didn’t want to know how much anger Petal carried in her heart, the darkness so close to the surface, always ready to boil over and overtake them all.
She didn’t want to know how anxious Willow was to leave the Cove, how she thought about it every day, slowly planning her escape.
The tranquil scene below wasn’t a lie. Their lives were full, they were lucky. The North was not where they needed to be, but this wasn’t working either. It had become their prison.
Especially now. They can’t go to town because the people of Alder Bay thought they’d moved on. They’d had to make it look that way when the Retrievers came in July and they’d nearly been caught.
But here they sat in their precious Cove. Trapped like animals, no longer living, just marking time.
Because the Bad Thing was coming. Grandma Glisten knew.
And Fern knew it too.
The headaches were getting worse.
What used to be an unpleasant pressure in her temples had moved to the top of her head where it throbbed endlessly, showing no mercy. Jarring voices swam through her brain, snaked into her soul, rattling her apart, every moment of every day.
A few more steps and she would be out of range—at least for a few hours.
Almost there.
The leaves crunched under her feet. Brown and gold and red. Crisp air blew across her face turning her nose red and her cheeks a ruddy pink as the sun’s rays poked through the spindly tree branches above.
Her jade green eyes looked to the valley below. She’d traveled far, but the smell of campfire was strong and she could still hear voices below—the shouts of her cousins running in the clearing, her uncle yelling to her grandfather, her grand-mother’s laughter. But their thoughts still pushed at the edges of her mind.
She pulled the homemade sweater tighter around her small frame and continued to climb.
Almost there.
The farther she walked above the Cove, the more the pain lessened to the dull ache she’d experienced during the summer months. Her shoulders relaxed as she continued her leaf-crunching, wisps of breath trailing from her mouth as she exhaled in the chilly autumn air. Using the small tree trunks on either side of the path, she pulled herself up the steep incline to reach her destination.
Almost there.
The path wound around a large tree at the top of a short bluff and then she arrived at a rock outcropping above the Cove. From there she could see everything: the trailers in a half circle, the clearing, the tables, the gardens. But she was far enough away that the thoughts of her family and friends could no longer penetrate her mind, the black cloud of their emotions and energy too heavy to rise this high, still stuck in the valley below.
Stay down there, far away from me.
They wondered where she went every day, but it wasn’t her intention to make them worry. It was also not her intention to shirk her chores. It just grew more impossible every day to be around anyone, even her family—her mother, her sisters. Tamping down the thoughts and feelings and reactions and emotions of everyone was becoming too difficult a task. It had become her only chore, and it was taking over her whole world.
She’d left before breakfast but grabbed an apple and oat cakes before escaping to the path that led to her lookout. The food helped her calm down and the clean forest air she breathed was like a promise. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today would be the day she could return to the Cove and the prattling tangle of broken thoughts would leave her alone.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at the Cove below. Her Uncle Tree ran through the clearing after Brook and River who giggled and shrieked.
Luna hung clothes on the line. With this wind they’d be dry in no time.
Her mother cooked over the open fire in the center of the clearing. Oatmeal with raspberries today.
She wanted to be down there. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be happy and free. She wanted to not know things.
She didn’t want to know how Luna felt when Lark ran his hand up her arm, down her back, to her chest when they thought no one was watching.
She didn’t want to know how lonely her mother was with Elliot so far away, how she cried herself to sleep at night, that as each day passed, she chose her children’s safety over her own happiness.
She didn’t want to know how empty her grandfather felt because his career had stopped when he left the North and now he walks around with an empty space inside himself, forced to live a simple life, his mind shriveling up from disuse.
And her grandma, who spent her days keeping everyone together and moving forward, fed, clothed, and happy; was always anxious, always worried, always waiting for the Bad Thing to happen.
She didn’t want to know how light Meadow’s brain was, how easy it was for her to live each day like a dandelion puff dancing in the breeze. She wished she could be like her younger sister. She craved that lightness and to revel in a world that held nothing but joy and beauty and life.
She didn’t want to know how much anger Petal carried in her heart, the darkness so close to the surface, always ready to boil over and overtake them all.
She didn’t want to know how anxious Willow was to leave the Cove, how she thought about it every day, slowly planning her escape.
The tranquil scene below wasn’t a lie. Their lives were full, they were lucky. The North was not where they needed to be, but this wasn’t working either. It had become their prison.
Especially now. They can’t go to town because the people of Alder Bay thought they’d moved on. They’d had to make it look that way when the Retrievers came in July and they’d nearly been caught.
But here they sat in their precious Cove. Trapped like animals, no longer living, just marking time.
Because the Bad Thing was coming. Grandma Glisten knew.
And Fern knew it too.