The Stranger in the Mist

Transcribed by Charity

The water pounded in his ears, reviving memories of his last return to the Valley, of the little, dark-haired girl who had pulled him free of the stream and befriended him. She was almost a forgotten memory, some ghost from the past, lost in the deities of manhood. And yet he could still hear that gentle voice telling him her name... "Lorna," and see the dancing light in her almond eyes.

Coming out into the bright sunlight, he barely believe his eyes, for a girl stood where Lorna had, playfully fishing with her hands. One flipped into the air, its silver skin gleaming in the sunlight, and it was then that she saw him. Fearful of an intruder, Lorna ran, following the curve of the rocks. And half not believing of himself, John took pursuit. She scrambled up the straw rope, casting one last look behind her before she darted in amongst the trees.

He had a length upon her, and was then at her side, pulling her around to face him. Fear mingled with anger in her eyes, and she jerked her arm free, crying out, "If you lay a finger on me, you'll regret it!"

"I'm not going to hurt you!" Holding up two hands, as if to signify that he no longer had her, he sensed the relief - bridled with curiosity - that swept through her face. She was indeed lovely, and his first impression had been correct... she was Lorna. The face had changed, the eyes growing more dark and impressive, her beauty beyond that of which he had ever glimpsed in his own sheltered world.

Lorna studied the face, some faint tinges of recognition pulling justly at her mind; and yet she refused to yield to them. "What do you want?" she inquired gamely. The boy gave her a wide smile, one that lit up his features as if they had been sun kissed by angels' wings, and replied stupidly, "Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

John's brow creased. "Well, don't you know me... ? Lorna?"

His use of her name made her uneasy, and yet she rose to the challenge with gleaming dark eyes. "Why should I?" This, she was pleased to see, took him aback for a moment, before that mischievous grin reappeared. It was almost as if he were playing a game with her, a game that she had no control over.

"What?" he said indignantly. "You never thought of that half-drowned boy you once found on the river bank?"

Her eyes swept from his face to the shoreline for an instant, as the memories came pouring back. The blonde-haired John Ridd. And yet she would never give him the satisfaction. It was far too dangerous for him to be here. Carver was known to prowl the woods, and his appearance would mean this man's death. "Never!" she proclaimed without a twitch.

"Oh." John's eyes were again playful, wandering her face in a never-ending caress. "See you learned how to fish, though."

Lorna let out a little laugh that rang like the water rippling in the brook, but her smile swiftly transformed into an accusing stare as she said sharply, "I warned you never to come back."

"I know."

"They'll kill you if they find you here!"

"Well, I'll take my chances." He was frustrating her - he could see that clearly. But there was something else in her eyes. Perhaps a profound interest that he would not flee swiftly at her bidding. Lorna cast a glance over her shoulder, sweeping the trees, and whispered, "You should go now."

"Only if I can see you again."

"It's impossible!"

John shrugged and glanced around for a seat. "Alright, then I'll stay!"

"No!" Lorna gripped his arm with surprising strength, her eyes pleading. This was no longer a game to her, but very real. How long would the Doones leave her alone in her little place of safety? It was not safe, even now... when an intruder had stepped boldly in from the moors. "Please," she pleaded, and something in her eyes drove him to obey, "for your own sake. You should have never come back!"