“’Fraid you’re going to have to excuse ol’ Rufus,” Wallace had explained back at the pub. “Set in his ways, he is. And I’m embarrassed to say he’s a bit of a bigot. Took a bite out of a Pakistani grad student last spring.”
Rachel had looked aghast.
Seichan had not reacted at all. She merely stared at the dog until its tail sank, and it retreated into its master’s shadow. Afterward she joined them at the table.
Rachel, having been recognized, had come clean about their true intentions with Wallace, though she kept some details sketchy. She didn’t mention the mummified finger.
The professor had listened soberly, then shrugged. “No worries, lass. Your secret is safe with me. If I can help you catch the boggins who killed Marco and sent your uncle to the hospital, then all’s the better, I say.”
So they had set off.
But even now, they still had a long way to go.
Gray mounted his stallion, Pip, and after a bit of a shuffle, they left the farm and headed overland. Dr. Boyle led the way atop his gelding. They followed single file up a winding trail.
Gray had not been on horseback in ages. It took him a good mile to feel comfortable, to fall into an easy rhythm with his mount. Around him, the English fells climbed higher and gathered closer. Off in the distance, the snowy crown of England’s highest mountain, Scafell Pike, shone in a last blaze of fire as the sun sank away.
As they trekked, a wintry silence blanketed the highlands. All that was heard was the crunch of snow under their ponies’ hooves. Gray had to admit that Wallace’s estimation of their mounts was not all bluster. Pip seemed to know where to place each hoof, even through the snow. Going downhill, the stallion never lost his footing and kept a steady balance.
Another two miles, and the way opened enough for Gray to sidle his mount next to Rachel and Seichan. The two had been whispering together.
As Gray joined them, Rachel struggled to free her plastic canteen. Seichan noted her difficulty and dropped her reins. Guiding her horse with her legs, she freed a thermos and unscrewed the top.
“Hot tea,” Seichan said and held a cup out to Rachel.
“Thank you.” Rachel took a sip, the steam bathing her face. “Ah, that’s good. It warms right through you.”
“It’s a special herbal blend of mine.”
Rachel nodded her thanks again as she finished her tea and passed back the cup.
Ahead, Kowalski slouched in his saddle, half-asleep, his head nodding, trusting his pony to follow behind Wallace’s.
They rode through a sparse forest of alder and oak, over ferny bracken in a landscape of snow-covered turf and icy trickles of streams. Gray was glad to be on horseback, not trekking on foot. Unlike Rufus, who didn’t seem to mind as he trotted alongside them, hopping from hillock to hillock through the damper areas. The air grew colder as the sun sank away.
“How much farther, do you think?” Rachel asked. She kept her voice hushed. The cold silence of the place had that effect.
Gray shook his head. Wallace had refused to give any more detail than “far up in the wilds of the fell.” Still, Gray didn’t worry about finding their way back. Before he set off, he had activated a handheld GPS unit in his pocket. It monitored their trail, leaving little digital bread crumbs to follow.
Rachel huddled deeper into her heavy jacket. Her breath puffed into the cold air. “Maybe we should have waited until morning.”
Seichan spoke hollowly. “No. If there are any answers out here, the quicker we find them and move on, the better.”
Gray agreed, but right now a roaring fire sounded pretty damn good. Still, he noted a strained set to Seichan’s lips. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead of her.
Dropping back, Gray used the moment to truly observe the two women. They were studies in contrasts. Rachel rode easily, swaying in a relaxed but ready manner, adapting to her new environment. She spent much of the time looking around her, taking it all in. Whereas Seichan rode as if into battle. She was plainly a skilled rider, but he noted how she corrected even the slightest misstep by her pony. As if everything had to bend to her will. Like Rachel, she also took in her surroundings, but her gaze darted about, pinched with calculation.
Yet despite their differences, the two women bore some striking similarities. Each was strong-willed, confident, challenging. And at times, they could take his breath away with a single glance.
Gray forced his attention away as he realized there was one other trait both women shared. He had no future with either one of them. He had closed that chapter with Rachel long ago, and it was a book best never opened with Seichan.
Lost in private thoughts, the group continued silently through the mountains. Over the next hour, the trek became a blur of rocky escarpments, snowy cliffs, and patches of black forest. At last they crested a rise and a deep valley appeared ahead. The way down was staggeringly steep.
Wallace drew them to a halt. “Almost there,” he said.
Under a crisp starry sky, they’d had little difficulty riding in the dark, but below lay true night. A dark wood filled the valley.
But that wasn’t all.
Against that black canvas, a few ruddy glows dotted the forest, like tiny campfires. They would’ve been easy to miss during the day.
“What are those glows down there?” Gray asked.
“Peat fires,” Wallace said, blowing into his gloved palms to warm the ice from his beard. “A goodly part of the fells is covered in peat. Mostly blanket mires.”
“And that would be what in English?” Kowalski asked.
Wallace explained, but Gray was familiar enough with peat. It was an accumulation of decayed vegetable matter: trees, leaves, mosses, fungi. Piles of it formed in damp areas. Deposits were common in places where glaciers had retreated and carved out a mountainous landscape, like here in the Lake District.
Wallace pointed down into the valley. “Below is a forest growing out of one of the deepest peat bogs in the region. It stretches thousands of acres from here. Most of the peat deposits in the region only go down ten feet or so. The valley here has spots that are ten times as deep. It’s a very old bog.”
“And the fires?” Rachel asked.
“Aye, that’s one good thing about peat,” Wallace said. “It burns. Peat has been harvested as a fuel source for as long as man has been around. For cooking, for heating. I suspect such natural fires as those below are what gave ancient man the idea to start burning the bloody muck to begin with.”
“How long have these valley fires been burning?” Gray asked.