Jen's Legacy.

She and Royce walked away from Badger’s Crossing with a feeling of relief, glad to have escaped without anyone finding them and seeing what they were doing with each other as they laid back in the sand after getting rid of their clothing.

She was carrying the half empty gallon of milk in one hand, and the staff in the other as he followed behind.

She’d fastened her shirt but didn’t bother with shorts, which were in the top of his pack. They would have been uncomfortably tight on her, and they aggravated her in a suddenly sensitive place without more delicate clothing between her body and them.

His pack was heavier this time too, with cans of food and other things retrieved from the food bin; enough for them both for the next two days, and none of it dehydrated or light in weight.

They walked steadily and slowly for about three hours, stopping often so that he could be sure about Claire’s feet, which he insisted upon seeing for himself each time they paused to rest or to drink.

She had become suddenly shy before they left Badgers, because of new thoughts beginning to weigh upon her mind; about a rescue effort that they might not be able to evade, and her reception at home, as well as how to explain Royce to her family.

When she explained how he had saved her life, that part of it would be easier. It would be the obvious closeness between them that neither of them could hide, that would be difficult for them to accept.

She and Royce had been relatively carefree while they were far from everywhere, discovering each other, but now that they were getting closer to people, and where she needed to think about her life, after this dream-like interlude with Royce, her emotions caught up with her again. She began to worry about what her family would think of this, and how they would deal with Royce being in her life from this moment forward: intimately so, and her being pregnant, though she wouldn't say anything of that until she had to; when it became obvious.

She kept telling herself that she didn’t care so much what her parents or her grandmother thought of this relationship, but she did. They could make her and Royce’s lives difficult if they chose to.

They made camp an hour short of Marsden; a name given to another landing place for the rafts.

Their camp was in the middle of nowhere by a small spring coming out from under a rock precipice. It was another place he’d camped with his father, and then later, with Jen. It was accessed easily enough by walking a few hundred feet from one side of the track, up into the trees. Up there, shielded from view, they were unlikely to be found by any rescue team and would be well out of the way.

Royce cleared around where they would be staying, getting all flammables moved back from where he would start their fire for their evening meal. The Park-Rangers frowned upon camp fires being lit outside of the designated camping areas, but there were no Rangers within miles of them, and there was a good supply of water to make sure everything stayed under control, though the undergrowth was still damp after the storms of the last two nights.

They would make camp in the shelter of the rock face which had served as a suntrap all of that day, as they both brought wood in for the fire, never straying far from each other (that issue with the cougar, stayed with her) and cooperated in building a simple lean-too, in case the weather turned against them.

He got a small fire going and brought a pan of water from the spring to heat. They often touched hands as they worked together, pausing to look at each other. She was nervous and close to tears but did not understand why, except she did not want any of this to change. She did not object to him touching her to comfort her, as he did often, holding her close as he worshipped her with his eyes, wanting her to confide in him about what was upsetting her, trying to encourage her.

They would have hot chocolate for a change, rather than weak tea or coffee. There had been some sachets of chocolate powder in a box in that Food Bin.

Claire moved around easily now, but still seemed to be shy, even nervous, but that had nothing to do with him. Other things were beginning to catch up with her. Her mood of uncertainty would soon change once it got dark, and the risk of others finding them decreased. Then, when they snuggled up in that sleeping bag together, her shyness would soon be gone when they made love once more.

He would keep the fire small enough to cook a meal, and once they’d eaten, they could let it go out, or keep it burning as they talked, until they were ready to sleep.

They had shelter, warmth, water, food, and each other. They needed nothing else. It was as though this was now her life. She knew of nothing else but to be with him now, and wanted to know nothing else. But she also knew that it would soon change, and she was not comfortable with that unknown.

Her first twenty-one-years of life were now behind her; gone into the past, and when she joined up with it again, she would be changed; a different person, seeing things through different eyes and all because of this man in her life and what he was doing for her. What they were doing for each other.

She had no regrets other than a feeling of guilt that others would be worrying about her until she could let them know that she was safe. She would need to explain those changes to them, but where she was now, was a turning point in her entire life and she must not lose this, or this man who was now firmly fixed in her life; an essential part of it; completing her.

She was nervous for another reason, wondering how Royce would respond to the impossible things she needed to tell him, though it was slowly becoming clear to her how she could approach it.

Once they knew there would not be others stumble across them in the dark, attracted by their fire, they could settle themselves better with each other, and could move under that small lean-to if it rained again, which it looked like it could do. That, would also keep others away.

After they’d eaten, Royce laid back onto his sleeping bag and brought her down beside him. It was getting dark now, and the chance of anyone blundering over them began to decrease. They held each other, not needing to say anything, each with their own thoughts.

She made up her mind, rising up from beside him to straddle him, looking down upon him, and began to undo his shirt without saying anything. He lay still, and let her, feeling her hands slide into it as she rested forward onto him. Then she sat up again and began on her own shirt, opening it from her, bringing his hands up onto her breasts as she moved to lie upon him again.

“Royce?” He kissed her to acknowledge her question.

“Please hold me close.” He did, but that was not what she had been about to ask or to say.

He held her close anyway and kissed her again, giving her time to decide what to say.

“I feel shy, all of a sudden when I didn’t before, but I think I know why.”

“Why?”

“The knowledge that this will all change again when we get out of here, and it frightens me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose any of this.”

He stroked her face and kissed her.

“You won’t lose this, or me. Not unless you want to.”

“I wish I could be sure of that.”

“You can. You know how you feel about me. I know how I feel about you. We are both of an age to make up our own minds what we do from here. I can look after you. I have enough for us both. We just have to let each other know what we want in a relationship, and where it can go. I am very flexible. All I want is you, in my life. We will both be living in Culver. That’s most of the battle over.” He made it sound so simple.

That answer seemed to satisfy her, but there were still too many unknowns.

“Royce?”

He touched her by her face and kissed her to encourage her to continue.

“Did Jen have a birthmark under her right breast, as I do?”

He paused, wondering what had brought on that question.

He encouraged her to sit up from him and lifted her breast in the light of the fire, leaning in to kiss her exactly there.

“Yes, my love, she did, in exactly the same place as this”—he touched her there— “but hers was much more crimson than yours. How did you know about that birthmark on Jen?”

She wasn’t ready to answer him just yet. He felt her reaching down behind her body, opening up his shorts from him and adjusting other things she could reach, as she twisted her body to do so.

She needed to distract him from what she was going to say as she moved back on him, guiding him, feeling him find her and move into her.

She was getting good at this.

She let out a long, slow breath, as she settled back onto him, flexing her hips, fidgeting to settle him deeper into her and to make sure he was fully into her before she spoke. This would distract him sure enough.

She remembered to breathe again. It was still strange to feel him in her body. “I met her not long ago. Last night.”

Impossible! She felt how that statement hit him by his look and what she felt. But he rode with that, knowing what she intended, in one direction if not in another. It didn’t harm to listen.