22. || common man.

Rolling amber and umber mountains surrounded River and the woman as they rowed to the middle of the reservoir. Autumn's crisp peak colors still clung to this side of the ridge, warming the belly of the valley, but fingers of winter's grays had begun to creep over the hills. Even the rich evergreens had faded to a smoked verdant.

The smell of rain filled the air, heavy and humid, but River took their time. Though the woman had wanted to return to the hollow, she hadn't seemed to mind the scenic detour. Perhaps just glad for the distance from Devil's Elbow and whatever had occurred at its boundary between her and the hemlocks and the Demon. Fog still sunk low against the surface of the water and she leaned over the edge of the boat, trailing her hand through it.

"Ya know, those dainty little fingers probably look mighty enticing to a snapper from below," River snickered. "But some turtle soup sure sounds good, don't it?"

The woman flicked her wrist their way, sending a spray of cold water down their shoulder with a smile. River let go of the oars and shook out their arm, returning her playful grin with one of their own. Sliding their suspenders down, they tugged their shirt up over their head and flung it to her lap.

"Was gettin' a bit balmy anyways," they chuckled, retucking their undershirt.

Her smile softened as her eyes traced over them, a little slower than before to look away. She ran her hand through her dark hair, letting it spill down her shoulders in waves and glanced back at the golden ridge. "It's funny how beautiful autumn is as everything's dying."

River hummed in agreement, but they weren't really looking at the trees. "Autumn's lovely sure, though I'm quite partial to spring myself. Watchin' the buds on the trees grow red, blossoms pink up and bloom, everything goes green and ferns start unfurling. There's nothin' like the rebirth of spring after winter's stark loneliness."

The woman looked down at their shirt in her lap and began to fold it, pressing it smooth. "Maybe winter won't be so bad this year."

"Maybe not..." They couldn't quite catch her eyes, but some kinda understanding passed between them. "So it's uh, supposed to storm tonight, but if tomorrow ain't too bad, we should hook some solar panels up for ya, enough for your basics at least. I got plenty extras."

"You don't have to do all that, River. Once we pawn that diamond off, I'll just have the electric turned on."

"You got some kinda ID on ya?" The woman's face dropped as she bit her lip. "Even if ya did, I don't think ya want anything in your name—everwhat that may be." River nudged her knee with their own, trying to tease her outta her head before she sunk in too deep again. "You gonna at least gimme your stage name from Busty's at some point?"

"Not a chance." She managed to laugh a little, but worry still wrinkled her brows. "Besides, I like you calling me Boots."

"Well, then," River lifted a scrap wooden board from the floor of the boat to lay from their seat to hers as a makeshift table, "Boots it is." They twisted around to grab the cooler from the bow and then started to spread out the assortment of smoked sausages, goat cheese, crackers, and pepper jams. Sinking their teeth into a shiny red apple, they smiled. "Let's eat."

And there they floated and ate and spoke about normal things because out in the middle of the reservoir it was a little easier to forget the confines of the mountain, especially when River could just listen to Boots talk all day about her travels, her taking pictures and trying new foods from all sorts of cultures they'd never even heard of. But there was moments she'd get all ate up with silence and River knew that as far as she'd been and as much as she'd seen, she'd still been trapped in her own hell hollow, rooted to her own violent end of the curse, hardly no different than them.

As she was finishing up her last bite, River took out that jagoff's phone and double checked all its info once more before powering it off a final time.

"I honestly didn't expect you to own a cell phone," Boots mumbled through a bite. "At least not a trendy brand new one."

Tossing the phone over their shoulder, they watched as her face went from amusement to shock when it plopped into the water. "What phone?"

"What—what'd you do that for?"

River grabbed the oars and began rowing back towards Two Lick. Already, the sun had slipped behind the ridge. "Them damn things are pert near useless on this mountain."

Her eyes sharpened on them, far more curious than concerned, but she seemed to know enough not to pry at this point. "You could always go up to Hart's Content," she whispered its name like a curse. "The lodge has service."

"Oh, I got a spot too. And a fancy flip prepaid, for that matter." River slowed their strokes, noticing the tightness in her shoulders, her back all rigid. "Do you need to make a call to someone?"

She shook her head. "I don't have anyone to call anymore. No family left. And what friends I thought I had all took the Demon's side when I tried to leave the first time. Convinced them all I was crazy. Hell, convinced me too," she laughed without a smile and hugged her arms to her belly. Whatever darkness tugged at her, she pulled herself out on her own this time. "But fuck them. This is the healthiest I've felt in a long time."

Rain began to patter against the wooden boat and she leaned back, letting the drops soak her shirt, streak her face. River continued to row, still taking their time as she seemed more than content to just let herself be washed clean of that old darkness. They knew that life, and especially healing in particular, was never linear, but the quiet mountain rain always had some kinda power to cleanse, to purify. Its water, along with the lonely snowmelt of winter, replenished the spring afterall.

"Hey Boots, what falls down, but never gets hurt?"

As she sat back up, her knees slipped between theirs, rubbing against their thigh and River tried to ignore that little electric shock that went straight to their core. Her damp hair now twisted into curls, all pushed off to the side and they especially tried to ignore how see-through her shirt was getting. A sly smile spread across her face and they knew they were caught. Or maybe she'd just figured out the dumb riddle. Or both. Probably both.

"Who needs family or friends," she murmured, "when you have a long-legged, brown-eyed, smart as hell, immortal hillbilly up the road who has a dad joke for every occasion?"

River kept their eyes fixed low to the oars between them. "Ain't we sorta friends by now?"

A flush of heat rose to their cheeks and swept through their body as she reached for their hands, pulling them from the oars to cup them together. Rain rolled down the creases in their palms, soaking into their skin. She rubbed the drops into their fingertips as she met their gaze through the fog's haze that crept around them. Like blued gun metal, her eyes stirred something wild in River's chest.

"Rain, right?"

But River had already forgotten the damn joke. "Huh?"

"What falls down, but doesn't get hurt. Rain," she answered again.

"Oh," they exhaled a little heavier than they meant, unaware of their captive breath. "That'n was a mite bit obvious, huh?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "A mite bit."

Once they reached the shore near the overgrown trailhead, the rain began to fall harder and faster and they hurried to strap the rowboat to the jeep's roof rack. As River tossed the keys to Boots, they ducked into the passenger seat before she realized what was happening. And she tried her hardest to protest driving, standing out in that rain all worried about flash flooding and losing control, but River assured her she'd do fine and with a reluctant smile, she climbed behind the wheel.

Fortunately, not another soul was on Triple 6 from the dam clear home to the hollow because she sure drove like a dog peeing in high weeds, but they would never tell her that, at least not til much later when they both could laugh about it. Instead, River just reassured her that she was doing good and she did eventually get the feel for handling the jeep on the twisty mountain roads. The jeep rolled to a stop right outside her place and she tugged the shifter into park with a gentle sigh.

"Thank you for being patient with me." Her voice was quiet again, barely a whisper against the hum of the engine. "I'm sorry we wasted a day at the dam."

"I'm not." River watched as her lips quirked up some. "This mountain's been cursed for over a century. Grant yourself some grace, Boots. Your grandpappy and me hunted them talismans for years and didn't turn up a-one. Then, here you show up and fearlessly abseil into an abandoned mineshaft—"

"I dunno about fearlessly..."

"—Stumble upon my good buddy all torn to shivers, transcend some water ward, and come up with a talisman in less than twenty-four hours of settin' your feet on this mountain. Not to mention everything ya went through to get here. What's your rush in findin' them otherns? That Buckmouse got ya on some kinda time frame?"

"It's more just a feeling." Looking down, she adjusted the garnet ring on her finger. "And I guess it's not just about me anymore."

"If you're worrying about me, don't." River reached over and took her hand. "I've got a rifle that shoots straight, a great 'shine mash recipe, and a River-built rocker on the porch if I do indeed ever grow old. I am perfectly content to stay here as I am for the rest of my days, ever how long that may be. So you do what you gotta do to rid yourself of the curse and clear your name, but don't ya worry about me none."

"There's two rockers on your porch."

"Hmm?"

"You built two," she clarified. "You may say you're content, but I know you want someone to fill that other chair. And you can't grow old with someone if you're still cursed. Unless..."

"Unless that someone else was maybe just as cursed?"

Her thumb softly traced over their hardened knuckles and she finally looked up at them again. Words seemed ready to leave her lips as they parted, but before she could speak, she slipped her hand away from theirs and unclipped her belt buckle. "I uh, I think I should stay at my place tonight."

And the way she said it didn't seem like she meant it, like it wasn't what she was gonna say. But River nodded and pulled their hand back too. "I gotta go check on some stuff at the springhouse tonight anyhow." They peered past her at the logs on her porch they had stacked earlier. "Do ya need me to help start your fire?"

Her eyes remained focused on the edge of the woods through the windshield. "I don't think I should invite you in tonight."

"Oh." Even parked several feet away from the wards around her cabin, River could feel the charge of them go back up, blocking them out once again. "Well, I'll uh, leave the jeep here in case ya change your mind about coming over. It's a long walk uphill in the rain. Kitchen door's always open."

As they leaned over to turn the jeep off, Boots fumbled for the door handle and practically fell out the car. She stumbled between the line of hemlocks, pushing past their branches and then hurried up the steps of her cabin, screen door slamming behind her.

River dropped the keys on the driver's seat and leaned back hard into the headrest. They didn't blame her one bit for trying to get away as fast as she could. She was trying to get better and they'd foolishly suggested she just sit around and stay cursed with them for the rest of eternity. Unbuckling themself, they flung the seat belt against the door and yanked its handle open. They hopped down from the jeep and grabbed the coyote cowl from the backseat, then trudged up the side of the mountain towards the springhouse.

But as usual, the mountain never gave them much time to contemplate their emotions. Beyond just the rain, there was something else heavy in the air, a feeling, maybe like the one Boots had alluded to. And not just in the air, but seeping from the split bark of the sugar maples, that same black sludge dripped in gobs down their trunks. A chill slipped beneath the coyote's fur, pricking River's neck and they spun around.

"Vera?" They called out, first in a whisper, then a little louder.

But she wasn't sat atop the eroded hemlock roots as she'd been the last two nights.

Turning towards the springhouse, they crossed the brook and walked up to the wooden door. Right inside, they reached around the corner for the long-handled shovel and just as they went to shut the door, they spotted the sack of lime on the floor. Glancing over their shoulder, they scanned between the trees for any sign of Vera again, but it didn't feel like it was her eyes on them.

River lifted the sack of lime to their hip and carefully spilled out a solid line, fully encircling the springhouse with the bone white powder, leaving just a gap at the door. It wasn't much, certainly not compared to the kinda blood ward that marked the springkeeper's cabin, but as the rain returned the lime to the earth, the springhouse ground and its reservoir would be protected once the gap was closed.

They placed the rest of the lime right inside the door again and carried the long-handled shovel over to the hemlock where that jagoff's decomposed body should have been heaped over its mangled roots. He should have been stinking something awful, all full of worms and beetles and thousand leggers.

But like the othern, he too was now missing.