The deeper I go into the wood, enveloped by yellow cedar, the more I can remember. I've began to move at a pace faster than I thought possible, hands pressing off birch, jumping over mounds a mixture of insects, twigs, dirt, kicking off of entangled roots. The smell is liberating, recalling memories and inciting nostalgia I can't remember the source of, it feels so close – beating – inside.

I look ahead, and there I see dense clouds the size of mountains, ready to storm. Water sprinkles atop the treeline, eventually dribbling onto my head, running down leaves and tickling the dirt. I go forward towards what looks to be a cliff, time escapes me-

The sounds of waves becomes more-and-more until I can hear them splashing, breaking along the beachrocks.

I can now feel every bit of the ocean gust envelope my body, one step forward and my foot is shaking at a danger my conscious mind has yet to register. I lurch over and see that I'm a leap away from tumbling and crashing to a sure death.

From here I can see the sea-foam brush up against the coast, receding, receding, a plunging wave breaks along the rocks, and sends my heart racing.

On my hands and knees now. I crawl towards the edge, my fingers embedded with dirt, clutching until they're interlaced with little roots. I'm crying – I'm crying and I don't know why!

I've been to this place before. I know it. It's a place I've passed, stepped over, walked to another ground, but there's nothing else here to explore. I stand. I stand and search. There is only one direction.

“Mr. Lamper! I advise you retreat to me!”

Engle. His voice is so peculiar, broken by age, but imbued with a youthful urgency.

“Mr. Williams is searching for you! To say good-bye before the weather becomes too dangerous to traverse! I will keep this a secret between you and I! I believe we will become close friends over your stay, which I will do all that I can to extend beyond your one-month assignment!”

I stand and look at him bewildered, he looks me, assured.

“You've made extraordinary ground, Mr. Lamper.” Engle says, making a conscious effort to remain close to me as we walk.

He continues. “You're a man full of surprises, I have no doubt.”

“Call me Dean.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I laugh, and then take a glance at him, he's smiling, happy, joyous.

“What if we don't make it back in time?”

“I'll make up an excuse. None of this was your fault or doing. And if they don't believe whatever story I concoct, I will take every bit of the blame.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“You'd do that for me?”

“I am here for you, no-other reason, Dean.”

“Hey, Engle.” I stop.

“Yes?” He turns towards me, clearly wanting to make ground.

“How did you find me?”

Engle nods and then looks at the ground.

“I've been following you. It is a part of my job, detailed specifically in line seven-hundred-”

“Is there anything in your contract that details lying, Engle?”

“Yes, Mr. Lamper.” He pauses. “But I will not lie to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I find us to be kindred spirits, as silly as that may sound.”

We're now walking, breaking from the brush into clearer ground, where our feet are only battling shrubbery, trees behind us. Far ahead is the dock – the operator is pacing, while pointing up at the mass of clouds, hearing loud rumbles, but without seeing any thunder nor rain, it's holding out on us. Pascal sees us, and begins to jog, until we meet. He first looks at Engle, their eyes lock.

“It turns out that I don't know the island as well as I thought, Mr Williams. I was taking Mr. Lamper on a tour, and turned a little too- Pascal interrupts Engle with a leap, two arms swing around my back, and now we're together in a tight embrace.

“What do you think?” He whispers into my ear.

“It's everything I've ever wanted.” Those words – I don't know why they left my lips, so quickly, so surely. “I want to stay here forever.”

Pascal almost chuckles, his hands are now gripping my shoulders, the space between us the length of his arms. “That's exactly what Sofia said to me.”

“I imagine Sofia and I have a-lot to talk about.”

Lightning strikes the ocean afar, the water looks bruised, angry.

“Either we leave now or you're staying the fucking night!” The operators yells, looking as if he wanted to take back the words either we leave now. “Hey, are you fucking listening to me?!”

It was aimed towards Pascal, who heard, but is still gazing into my eyes.

“Go.” I say.

“Okay.” He nods repeatedly, palming my cheek. “I'll be back soon to check up on you.”

“I'll make sure you don't have to do that, Mr Williams.”

“It won't be a wellness check, Engle.”

“Oh.” He looks at me and then Pascal. “I see.”

Engle and I are shoulder-to-shoulder watching the boat pull away, the engine gunning as if they were in center of a maelstrom, attempting to escape its pull. If there was an ocean to birth something monstrous, it would look as daunting as this one. I wave at Pascal, and he waves back at me, our eyes match until we're unable to see one-another, the silhouette of the boat is gone. I presume they're somewhere swaying at the mercy of the ocean, perhaps behind the wave I see, larger than all others.

“Say. Do you still have that beer I gave you ... Dean?”

“I dropped it somewhere along the way to the cliff. You might have stepped on it.”

Engle laughs.

“I wasn't joking.”

“I'm glad you didn't drink it.”

“Why not?”

“I'll tell you more when we leave this cursed dock.”

We begin walking towards the place of which we came.

“There's going to be a terrible storm soon. I recommend we spend the night at Marybel's old home. I'd much rather go over all of these... details in the warmth of stone walls, where's there's not a hearty risk of getting electrified, or crushed by a falling tree."

After some time in silence, when our feet hit paved roads that assure our path, I ask. “About Sofia. Have you met her?”

“Oh yes.” He almost laughs. “She's a wonderful woman. You're close, I assume? From all that Mr. Williams has talked about you two, together.”

“Yeah. Well, we used to be. Not that anything bad happened, but you know, time.”

I continue. “Hey, does she have anyone like you? Following her around?”

“That's for the fireplace, Dean.”