Jacob grinned at her, a mischievous quality in his smile.
Like an idiot, Rena grinned back. A nagging voice in her head reminded her that a bedroll and relative quiet awaited her, but her feet remained fused to the floor. “How does a human barge worker with a background in archeology learn to write fluent Bajoran?” Rena said, thinking aloud. She rested a hand on her cocked hip, tilted her head thoughtfully. “Not who I would have expected to find in this obscure corner of Bajor.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I consider myself more a writer by profession than a barge worker or an archeologist.”
A writer, too? Next thing he’ll be telling me that Kai Opaka’s his distant cousin.What was it with Jacob that piqued her curiosity so? Peel back one layer, find a fascinating discovery only to find yet another intriguing bit beneath the first. As much as she was inclined to sit and talk with him for a while longer, she knew she ought to be going to bed and she said so.
“I’ve got some work to do, first,” he said, removing a padd from inside his jumpsuit.
“A story?” she said.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You’ll have to let me read it.”
“If I can see your sketches.”
“Fair enough.” Impulsively, Rena leaned up and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek, hoping he would know how much she appreciated his kindness, and slipped into her room without a second look. The sight of the duranjaon the floor triggered a wash of guilt; she immediately regretted her parting gesture. I have nothing to feel bad about. I’ve done nothing wrong. I keep my promises, Topa.
She prepared for bed, stripping down to her chemise, cleaning her teeth and brushing her hair. Just as she was ready to dim the lights, she decided she ought to visit the ’fresher.
As she exited into the hall from her closet, she heard the boisterous shouts echoing from the ongoing “games” Ganty had been intent on her joining. She discovered evidence from their most recent visits pooled on the stone floors—wine, possibly urine—a few doors down from her closet. A chilling scream stopped her. Soundless, she stood and listened. The laughter resumed and she breathed easier, relieved that whatever had prompted the scream hadn’t been too serious. Nevertheless, she walked more swiftly, wanting to avoid any more encounters with Jacob’s inebriated crewmates. Turning the corner, she nearly tripped over Jacob, leaning against the wall, padd on his lap, mouth gaping open in sleep. Why would he be out here? He has a room of his own. This doesn’t make—
In an instant, what seemed to be random pieces clicked into place, especially his odd behavior at supper: Jacob’s reassurances to the contrary, her ongoing safety concerned him. Her initial disappointment at discovering the true motivation for his attentiveness quickly gave way to anxiety. She shivered, perceiving Ganty and the others anew. The sooner she could be asleep behind her own locked door…
Her door didn’t have a lock.
She slept in a seldom-used storage closet intended to house nothing more valuable that empty bottles and crates. If anyone for any reason wanted to get into her room, nothing could stop them—save maybe a self-appointed steward armed with a padd and a good heart. If Jacob had reason to worry, sheought to be worrying. Her heart slammed in her throat.
Rena turned back to her room, pulled her clothes on, and packed up the few possessions she had removed from her knapsack. The noise from the revelers grew louder, increasing her sense of urgency. Her fingers trembled as she fastened up her boots, her mind racing through her options. She had no idea where she would go—back toward the River Road, probably. It couldn’t be as bad as the rangers claimed it was. If she moved quickly, she could reach the bridge crossing to Mylea before dawn.
Hefting her knapsack onto her back, she turned on her heel to leave, spinning smack into Jacob. Startled, she jerked back with a shudder. “You scared me.”
“I’m going with you,” he said, bleary-eyed, obviously still fuzzy from sleep. “Just wait for me to get my gear.”
Rena shook her head. “I’ve lived in this province my whole life. I know the back roads and the dangers better than you do,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. Without waiting for Jacob’s reply, she started off down the hall, going toward where she remembered the entrance as being. Unsurprisingly, Jacob was beside her within moments, carrying his own gear.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he said.
“How do you know?” Rena snapped, her nerves getting the better of her.
Taking her by the shoulders, he looked her hard in the eye. “I know we barely know each other and there’s no reason why you should trust me, but I need you to believe that I’ll help you get wherever you’re going. You’re facing treacherous weather and terrain and you’re at least six hours from daylight. You’re in as much danger out there as you are in here.”
She broke eye contact and slumped forward, the need for sleep aching in her bones. Heavy-limbed with exhaustion, she rested her forehead against his chest for a fraction of a moment. “Fine,” she whispered.
Jacob slipped an arm around her waist and propelled her forward. How they wound their way through the halls and stairs of the winemaking facility, Rena couldn’t precisely say. Once she heard the drumming rain and smelled the fresh, stirred-up scents of soil and the esanishe remembered seeing growing beside the main doors, she knew they had found their way. Renewed energy filled her. They stepped out onto the porch.
As Rena’s will supplanted her fatigue, she became acutely aware of Jacob’s hand splayed against her waist and the warmth of his body beside hers. She disentangled herself and stepped out onto the rickety wood steps, immediately losing her balance on the slippery surface. Jacob caught her by the elbow and helped her upright. As she straightened herself, she glanced up at the dusky sky in time to see beams of moonlight fanning through the mist.
Jacob was a nimble-footed traveling companion, Rena discovered. Swiftly, they moved in tandem toward the River Way, avoiding mud slicks and water-filled divots in the few paved spots. Occasionally, the saturated ground gave beneath their weight, forcing them to scramble to avoid a fall or an injury. Within a kilometer, Rena had settled into her traveling mode, in spite of the problematic terrain. The eerie wine-colored sky prevented darkness from eclipsing their path. Eyes drilled ahead, she glanced infrequently at him, wanting to avoid the intimacy she felt creeping between them earlier. Instead her gaze meandered from the Pah mountain range in the distance on her right, where the dark silhouettes of former volcanoes stood on the edge of the rocky valley floor near Mylea, to the tabletop-flat grasslands spread as far as the eye could see on her left, down to the Sahving Valley, where she’d come from.
The loamy scent of rain-soaked peat and the gingery perfume rising off the reeds and marsh roses saturated the air. She knew they would join the River Way shortly when she heard the rain’s steady hiss on the Yolja’s glassy surface as the river rambled toward the ocean, but Rena didn’t mind the weather. The sweater she’d knit last year proved sufficient insulation from the light rains. Rena imagined that Jacob, having spent time on the river, felt similarly. Up over a slight rise in the landscape, they would find familiar territory. She nearly wept with relief when they took their first steps onto the pathway paved by the ancient Bajora. Relieved of the burden of watching each step, Rena increased her pace to a gentle jog; Jacob followed suit.
As they drew nearer to the coast, sour marsh gases gave way to brine-tinged winds. The road no longer gently rose and fell, but instead sloped steadily downward. Bowed clusters of willow trees gave way to bedraggled shrubs, half-hidden by drifting sands. When white, water-polished boulders began appearing, Rena knew they would shortly arrive at the crossroads and the bridge to Mylea. She almost didn’t recognize the junction when she saw it, having never before seen the intersection marked with a placard written in both Federation Standard and Bajoran. Another sign of change,she thought wistfully, wondering if this road would feel the same the next time she passed through, or whether it would be the way everything else in her life seemed to be: transitional, shifting like the shore dunes.