Storm stumbled on the path, the vision of what she had witnessed in the clearing blocking out all else. There had been an excruciating, searing burn as the Gatherer’s corrupted field had stripped away her energy, leaving her bare and raw. She could feel the damage that underlay the wonder and the sheer awe of what she had seen.

It had been a glimpse of what had brought all the people to the clearing. It wasn’t a path or a channel or even the Gatherer, but an awareness of something bigger. Something so infinite it had shut out all else. Part of her wanted to go back to it, for even the slightest touch of it again. Yet the part of her that wanted to live kept her stumbling down the path. 

She struggled to find the trail in the dark forest and used the rough bark of the trees as guideposts. She anchored herself to the wetness of the ferns against her legs, the strike of water drops on her face. When she reached the log they had climbed over on the way in, she pressed her hands into the wet sponginess of the moss and turned to let Maria and Amanda catch up.

A new rush of rain pattered on the empty path. When had they last been behind her? She had no memory of their footsteps or their breath. She had seen only the spectacle of the Gatherer, the exquisite up-front view of a tiger’s face before it eats you alive.

Rain ran onto the back of her hands and formed rivers over her skull.

She leaned against the log, not knowing whether to go forward or back. Maria had drilled into their heads that if they were separated, she was to return to the vehicle. Yet it made no sense that they weren’t here with her. They had only been steps behind.

She was saved from her indecision by a movement further back on the trail, a bobbing light coming towards her. A white flash raced in front of the light that formed into the shape of a dog, darting silent and fast through the ferns. It stopped abruptly in front of her, its head held high, the short rhythm of its panting crowding in between the sound of the rain.

It was a beautiful creature, with long white hair and a patch on its face; no hint of aggression, simply the joy of running free in the woods.

She felt a short ache for Blue, her sole companion for so many months in the Yukon.

“Hey, bud.”

The dog gave a short wag of its tail, before a single high-pitched bark.

“Yeah, yeah. We know. You found me.”

The dog looked back to the lights that had almost reached them. One of the figures holding them was tall and male, the other short, the underbrush at the side of the trail as high as her waist.

The dog barked again; its ears perked forward.

“Sasha!”

The woman’s voice split the quiet of the forest.

The dog pranced backwards and the woman rested her hand on its back, her short stoutness at odds with the elegance of the dog.

Gwyneth, the smiling, self-proclaimed spiritual leader of the retreat that was home to the corrupted Gatherer, was breathing hard, her dark curls plastered to her head. The man shone his flashlight in Storm’s eyes, and she raised her hand to block the light.

Gwyneth stepped closer. The dog took it as a cue to say hello and Storm opened her free hand to it, and carefully rubbed behind its ears. Its wagging tail thumped against the log as it pressed its body against her knees.

“Is it really you?”

Storm could see nothing beyond the flashlight shining in her eyes. 

“Can you point that somewhere else?”

The light moved down, highlighting the dog pressed against her legs.

“Sash, come here!” The pressure on Storm’s legs eased, the dog’s ears tuned to something in the woods. “Come here!”

With a casual leap, Sasha cleared the log and raced into the woods.

Gwyneth frowned as she watched the dog go, before her focus returned to Storm.

“How can you be here?”

Gwyneth had partially recovered, suspicion replacing the reverent awe. The man stayed behind her, holding something in his hand that she couldn’t see. She sat down on the log, a sudden, deep exhaustion swirling around her feet.

“I came to see your Gatherer.”

The water from the moss was seeping into her pants, but she didn’t have the energy to stand.

“Why would you do that?”

Storm searched the path for Maria, wished for her strong competence to deal with this woman.  

“So I could understand it.”

There had been that moment when she had understood everything, beyond the Gatherer, beyond this isolated place.

“Didn’t you invent it?”

The man’s voice was deep and hostile. Gwyneth raised her hand to silence him, with a control far better than she had over her dog.

“I was told this one was different.”

She thought she might lie down on the log, let herself drift towards the vision she had only glimpsed.

“And is it?”

Gwyneth’s expression had gone flat, her tone smug.

“I didn’t get close enough.”

The man shifted beside Gwyneth, the beam of the flashlight having crept up to Storm’s chest. Storm drew back at the sight of what he held in his hand: the smooth plastic of a taser, the tip pointed to the ground. The perfect weapon to terrorize the afflicted.

Gwyneth stepped closer.

“We’re having a ceremony tomorrow night. You should come. I can give you full access to the Gatherer.”

Storm inched sideways along the log. “I can’t be that close.”

“You were just in our clearing. Why not show yourself? The congregation would love to see you.”

“Congregation?”

Storm slid further down the log, stopping when her hip pushed up against the stub of a broken branch.

Gwyneth was smiling, with the same pandering she had used when Storm had watched her dealing with the man in the clearing whose suffering had been so acute. She waved her arm to take in the wet forest and the clearing behind it.

“I know you witnessed the truth tonight.” An undercurrent of reverence ran through her words. “Because you are the person who delivered it to us. Showed us the path to that higher place.”

Storm tried to scramble over the log, except the man was too fast. The hard plastic of the taser pressed into the tender skin of her neck.

She froze.

“I can’t go back there.”

Gwyneth clapped twice, like a primary school teacher.

“Nonsense. You were sent to us for a reason. This is not the time to be a coward.”

Storm saw the expanse of it again, its emptiness. She wouldn’t survive prolonged contact. She couldn’t help but see the irony, that she would be killed by the Gatherer not when she tried to stop it, but because some zealot still believed she was the savior.

There was a strike on her shoulder and the taser scraped down her neck. The man grunted as he hit the ground. Storm caught a flash of Maria’s ponytail and vest, and then she was standing above him, the taser pointed at his face, the flashlight on the ground at her feet.

He lifted his hands to shield his face.

Gwyneth stared, her expression changing to that of someone who had just witnessed a miracle.

“Of course, you are here too.” Her voice rose with excitement. “You both have to come tomorrow. Truly. This has to be a sign.”

“You okay?” asked Maria.

She picked up the flashlight and stood between Storm and Gwyneth.

“Yeah.”

The forest had changed, the rain quieter, withdrawn into the simple potential of a spring evening.

“Hop over the log,” said Maria.

“No. No. No.” Gwyneth came forward, her hands held up in supplication. “You need to come back with us.” She stopped within reach of Maria, her self-assurance bullet-proof.

“That Gatherer isn’t what you think it is,” said Storm.

There was the sound of shouting in the distance, like an angry mob coming towards them. Storm climbed over the log but halfway over she stopped, the cries turning into words. There was a level of panic to them that could only mean fear.

Gwyneth’s eyes widened. Her head turned to the voices, even as her hands were still held out to them.

Fire. The barn is on fire.

Gwyneth whirled back on them, her face wide with shock and confusion. Storm almost felt sorry for her.

Maria lifted the taser. Blocked her path to Storm.

The man was already running back towards the growing cries as the first smell of smoke reached them.

Gwyneth hesitated and took a step towards them.

The smell of charred wood thickened, and the first trace of doubt broke through her forced benevolence. She gave a small gasp, almost a choke, before she turned and ran.

There was more shouting now, a glow of orange visible in the sky. Gwyneth’s outline blurred the further she got from them; her short legs not able to carry her fast enough.

Maria hurried Storm over the log.

“Should we go?” asked Storm.

“Only if you want to take the blame.”

Maria climbed over behind her.

“Was it you?” asked Storm.

Maria looked back towards the fire.

“No.” Though there was hesitancy there. Concern.

She shone the light in front so Storm could see the path. Storm started walking, listening to the cries of fear behind them. Within a few minutes, they no longer heard the commune, the rain muffling the cries, the forest floor calm and quiet. Storm struggled to walk, the strength of her fatigue too much to overcome.

Maria slipped beneath Storm’s arm and held her around the waist. Storm was grateful for it, the final hold of the Gatherer peeling away as they moved further from the barn.

“Where’s Amanda?” Storm asked as they splashed through a puddle. There was the barest return of strength in her legs from the water, the agitation in her nerves calming.

She felt Maria stiffen, her grip around Storm’s waist tighter.

“I don’t know.”

Storm tried to stop but Maria kept moving her forward.

“Is she okay?”

Maria shook her head, her stride never faltering.

“She knows how to look after herself.”

There was more hope than conviction in the words.

Storm tried to look over their shoulder, back the way they’d come, but the woods were too dark. They wouldn’t know if Amanda was there until she was on top of them.

“You should go back,” said Storm.

Maria pushed a branch out of the path.

“Gwyneth will make damn sure that the world knows we were here. What better publicity for her spiritual retreat than having the inventor of the Gatherer show up?”

“That’s not what’s happening there.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s how she’ll play it. Our job is to get as far away from here as possible.”

“What about Amanda?”

There was the barest hesitation in Maria’s stride.

“We can’t worry about that right now.”

Storm twisted her head for a final glance behind them. They had known they could be separated, or worse; she just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.