Daphne
I lay there, tense and anxious, and waited for him to ask me about the t-shirt.
His next quiet question threw me off guard. “Why did you go there, why that particular place?”
I rolled to face him. He was stretched out across his bed, his long, powerful body relaxed, one arm tucked under his head, staring up at the ceiling. Just looking at him made my heart pump harder in my chest. “There are caves there. Well, not really caves, but some hallowed-out pockets under the slate.”
He turned his head, and I could see the fatigue in his eyes. “I’ve been on that trail,” he said, “I never saw any caves.”
“They aren’t on the trail,” I explained. “You know that marshy, swampy area?”
He nodded.
“If you work your way around to the other side of that, they are there. Not many people
