Hope in the Mountain River by Misty M. Beller

Author:Misty M. Beller [Beller, Misty M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Misty M. Beller Books, Inc.

Every part of Joel ached, but at least he was alive. The fire in his belly had finally dulled to a low burn. Now, a parching thirst consumed his mouth.

He pried his eyes open, and this time he could see more details than before. Nothing moved around him, but the light was dim, maybe the faint glow of early morning. Or…maybe that glow was a fire.

He turned his head to see better. Yes, a campfire and…he squinted at what lay beyond. Was he in a lodge? This felt so much like the smoky interior of the lodge he’d shared with Caleb, French, and Beaver Tail last winter in Beaver’s village.

Did that mean…? He lifted his head to get a better look, but fire shot through his gut again, fiercer than any blow he’d ever experienced from a fist.

He dropped his head back and focused on inhaling steady breaths, not moving anything except his lungs. At last, his mind cleared enough to think. Had they reached the village where Adam had gone?

Was his brother here, even now? Where were the others?

He focused hard on his surroundings, staring up at the hide stretched over him, the hole in the center he could barely see at the corner of his vision.

Sounds slipped into his awareness. The murmur of distant voices, probably people outside the lodge. The crackle of the fire, a small one from the faint noises. Steady breathing. Not snoring, but the slight rhythm of someone small. Elan?

Keeping his body still, he eased his chin to one side, toward the fire. His vision blurred again, but he gave himself time to focus, sweeping his gaze slowly around the area.

A lump of something sat nearby, maybe an arm’s reach away from him. As he focused on the object, an outline took shape. A person. He tried to make out Elan’s shape, lying on her back, face pointed upward. He could see the rise and fall of the chest, but that certainly wasn’t the form of a woman.

He studied the profile of the face. That flat, sloped brow, the deep-set eyes, the nose slightly bigger than Joel’s own, but exactly the same rounded shape. Under the thick growth of beard would be a slight cleft in his chin. And if he opened his eyes, the rich orange-green color would make anyone looking at him stop and stare.

Adam.

As certainty sank through him, determination flooded his veins. He had to touch his brother. Had to know for sure that really was air lifting his chest.

He swallowed to summon moisture into his parched throat. He didn’t manage much, but hopefully enough. “Adam.” He croaked the single word, his voice not sounding at all like usual. But Adam would know him, surely.

The figure didn’t move, only the slight lifting of his chest with each breath.

Fear clutched in Joel’s chest. “Adam.” This time he sounded more like himself. But still, no movement from his brother.

Summoning his strength, Joel reached across the short distance between them. His fingers barely touched the fur the man lay on.

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