I shake my head slowly and take his hand when he offers it, pulling me up slowly. “Easy, Echo,” he coos. He holds onto my shoulders and waits for me to steady myself. “There we are. Good girl.”
“I’m going to go past the tree line out to the west,” the old lady interrupts after clearing her throat. I glance over at her briefly, and I’m caught between shock and nausea as I watch her bones twisting and contorting under her skin, which is rippling as if I’ve just tossed a pebble into water. As I stare in horror, the shopkeeper’s appearance morphs from wrinkly, hunched over a cane, and slow to a younger, smooth-skinned woman with legs for days. She rolls her head from shoulder to shoulder, stretching. “I’ll circle back if I see anything, but hopefully we can just get the fated back to the castle before they notice she’s arrived. No news is good news.”
“Thank you, Veyra. Safe travels,” he replies, and his well-wishes sound genuine.
She winks at me before disappearing into the dark, gone in a flash. She is unnervingly quick.
I swear my brain is short-circuiting, because when he gently puts his hand under my chin to tilt my head up and searches my eyes, I can feel everything. There’s the warmth of my blood pumping through my veins, and when the pad of his thumb rests on my bottom lip and he searches my eyes, I know that if I am, in fact, dead… I’m okay with my afterlife.
“Forgive my manners,” he rasps as his gaze drops to where my lips meet his thumb. “I am Finnick.” When he says his name,my heart goes up in flames. Something inside of me is burning, but not in a bad way. It’s screaming that this is where I belong, that this is what I’ve needed, why all the houses I grew up in never felt like home. It’s because of him. He is my home.
“Finnick,” I repeat in a whisper. A noise comes from deep within him, and his eyes close for a brief moment. The name feels like a prayer on my lips, and am I fucking crazy? I’ve known this guy for half a second, and I feel like if I ever get separated from him again, my soul will be split in half. My heart physically aches at the idea. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, though, really, because I’m just dreaming. Or dead. Still undetermined.
“I’m Claudia,” I say after a too-long pause.
“Claudia. My Echo. I’ve been waiting on you.”
The words that should have me on edge do the opposite. I know that I’ve been waiting on him, too.
Chapter Four
I’ve never really been a dreamer before. Sure, I’ve had dreams, but never so vivid.
Finnick leads the way, navigating the terrain like he’s the one who placed every stone, log, and ankle-twisting hole on the ground himself. I, on the other hand, am not as confident. I’m an indoor soul. I love painting, drawing, and throwing clay; I am not outdoorsy. Nature, for the most part, is my enemy.
Bouncing from foster home to foster home was whiplash. Some parents wanted me outside from sunup to sundown, and some kept me in my room. Art was something I could do anywhere, and I relished that. No matter where I went, I would at least have access to a pencil, pen, or marker.
My lack of outdoorsmanship is evident when the toe of my boot snags on a tree root. My arms fly out in front of me as I try to regain my balance. The only thing that keeps me from becoming one with the forest floor is Finnick. His tall frame is in front of me in an instant, his large hands grasping my biceps, eyes wide.
“Are you okay, Echo?”
I nod. My heart is racing, but I am okay. I want to ask him why he keeps calling me Echo, but each time I start, I change my mind. It feels natural and calming, so I’m not upset about it. I’m just curious.
“We are almost there,” he tells me, his assessing eyes running over me to make sure I am telling the truth. Eyes the same icy blue that I’ve spent months mixing on my palette again and again.
“Where, exactly?” I realize now that I’ve asked no questions, gathered any clues, or done a single thing that would count as a survival instinct. I made eye contact with this man, and everything sensible went out the door. With as many true crime podcasts as I listen to, I am ashamed of myself. Do better, Claudia.
“Here,” he states, as if that’s any answer at all. He steps into a patch of moonlight in front of us. It was as if the second he decided this is where we needed to be, the trees opened a path for him. He takes my hand and gently pulls me forward into the clearing. A massive horse is waiting there, and it stomps the ground once, impatiently. Finnick huffs out a laugh and moves towards the creature, talking to it as if it had been nagging him, and he was explaining where he had been. I watch him as he pats the horse lovingly on the muzzle. “We’re going, boy, we’re going,” he soothes. “We just have to get Claudia settled.”
The horse snorts, a cloud of steam coming from its nostrils as it stares at me like it’s sizing me up, seeing if I’m worth the trouble. He must give me grace, because after a moment, he paws at the ground. Finnick looks at me and offers his hand. “Come, Claudia,” he insists softly.
I take his hand, and he guides me to the horse. “I’ll help you up,” he tells me, turning me towards him when I am close enough to be able to get on. He puts his hand on my waist, and I’m frozen. His palms are firm, steady, and I can feel his warmththrough whatever excuse of a dress I’m wearing. He takes a slow step closer to me, moving like he doesn’t want to startle me. His gaze roams my face before he meets my eyes again. “You’re real,” he breathes.
“That’s debatable,” I respond, my voice barely louder than a whisper. I feel my cheeks heating. “Dream logic.” I can’t take my eyes off him. I want to soak this in for as long as I can.
“You’re looking at me like I’m going to bite you,” he teases, reaching up to tuck a stray curl that’s escaped from my hair tie behind my ear.
“Maybe I’m hoping you will,” I respond quickly, not even realizing what I was saying before it came out. Finnick lets out a genuine chuckle, and his palm moves to cup my cheek briefly before moving back to my waist. His face is inches from mine. I can feel his breath against my lips.
His eyes dip to my mouth, lingering, and my knees don’t seem so sturdy anymore. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
“How?” He breathes. He leans in just a fraction. Enough that I can feel the promise of it, ready for it to devastate me. His nose brushes against mine, and his fingers flex at my waist, gripping me. I didn’t notice that I’ve also leaned in, but now there’s barely space for a breath to come between us. His lips part, and mine do the same.
“If you mean I’m looking at you like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you,” he starts, speaking lowly, the sound coming from him like a growl. “It’s because I have been.”
A soft whimper escapes me, and his lips are grazing mine, so close…
“And you’ll have to continue waiting,” a sharp voice snaps from behind him. Finnick jerks away from me like someone has splashed cold water onto him, his jaw tenses, and his eyes snap back into focus. His softness is gone, replaced with good posture and even better manners. Veyra is back, and she lookspissed. “The fae archers are closing in. You need to take the fated and move.” She turns her back to us and motions to something behind her. What seemed like only a few men quickly turns to many as they slink through the trees, all heading the way Veyra had silently commanded them. My jaw drops as I look between her and Finnick, confused. Everything feels so charged now, so urgent, and my heart is starting to pound. Is this turning into a nightmare instead?