The trek back to the village felt longer than it should have. The weight of the unconscious man between them was not heavy in the physical sense, but it was heavy in a way that made every step feel more significant. Daniel, Ruse, and Clyde moved in silence, the only sound the occasional rustling of leaves underfoot or the distant chirp of crickets.
The man, who seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties, was still breathing, but his face was pale, streaked with blood, and his clothes torn. Every now and then, Daniel caught glimpses of the man's features—dark hair, a strong jawline—but there was something in his expression, even in unconsciousness, that seemed oddly familiar. It was as if Daniel had seen him before, though he couldn't place where or when.
Ruse was the first to break the silence. "This is crazy. I can't believe we're carrying some guy who just fell outta the sky."
Clyde grunted in agreement, though his voice was quieter. "Not just any guy. He's a pilot. That plane wasn't built for these mountains."
Daniel nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was trying to make sense of the situation, but his mind kept returning to one thing: the way the man's face had looked. There was something more to this, something that felt... out of place, even for the strange events of the day.
They reached the edge of Stone Ridge not long after, where the small, unpaved road led them past the creek and toward the village. It was late now, the sky darkening with the last remnants of daylight. As they neared the center of town, Daniel's thoughts turned to what they should do next.
The village wasn't much to speak of—a few dozen homes scattered along the main road, the local diner, a gas station, and the old high school up on the hill. Everyone knew each other, and word traveled fast. Someone would have heard the crash, but they needed to get the man to safety first. He couldn't stay out in the open, not like this.
"Where are we taking him?" Ruse asked, his voice still laced with nervous energy.
"Gran's place," Daniel said, glancing at his friends. "She's got the old cabin by the creek. It's away from the main part of the village. We can hide him there until we figure out what to do."
Ruse raised an eyebrow. "You sure your gran won't be pissed about this?"
Daniel gave a half-smile. "She's tough. She'll understand."
Gran had raised Daniel since he was little. His parents had passed when he was young, and Gran had stepped in without a second thought, keeping their family traditions alive in the old cabin and teaching Daniel everything she knew about the mountains. Tough as nails, Gran could handle just about anything.
They took the narrow path along the creek that led to Daniel's cabin, making their way through the trees. The smell of pine and earth mixed with the faint scent of wood smoke from the nearby houses. The cabin came into view, nestled in a clearing at the edge of the forest. Its wooden exterior was weathered by time but sturdy, the kind of place that felt as if it had been part of the land for generations. Daniel had always found comfort in its quiet, in the steady rhythm of Gran's life.
When they reached the front door, Daniel knocked lightly, but there was no answer. Gran was probably out by the woodshed, working on something or another, just as she always did. He gently eased the door open, motioning for his friends to follow.
Inside, the cabin was as cozy as ever. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, and the smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air. Gran was indeed at the back, her frame bent over a workbench as she carved wood. Her gray hair was tied back in a loose knot, and she was humming a song that Daniel didn't recognize. She didn't look up when they entered, too focused on her task.
"Gran," Daniel called softly, stepping into the room with Ruse and Clyde close behind, the unconscious man still in their care. "Gran, we need your help."
Gran didn't flinch or stop humming. Instead, she slowly turned her head, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned the boys and the man they were carrying.
"Lord help us," Gran muttered, her voice rough from years of use. "What have you gotten yourselves into now, Daniel?"
"We found him," Daniel explained quickly, lowering the man onto the old couch by the fire. "He's hurt. We need to get him patched up."
Gran's gaze softened, and she moved quickly to the fire, grabbing a thick woolen blanket and draping it over the stranger. She pulled a chair over and began to inspect the man's injuries with a practiced hand. Despite her age, there was an efficiency to her movements that spoke of a lifetime spent mending wounds and tending to the needs of the land.
Ruse stepped back, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. "Who is he, anyway?"
Daniel's mouth went dry, but he couldn't answer. The man's face—it nagged at him. He knew he'd seen him before, but where? His gut twisted with a mix of curiosity and something darker, something more urgent.
Gran paused, wiping her hands on her apron as she turned to face the boys. "He's a stranger to me, but I reckon you'll find out soon enough who he is. Let's get him stable first." She met Daniel's eyes. "You did the right thing bringing him here. But you best be prepared. People don't crash planes into the mountains for no reason."
The air in the room seemed to thicken, the fire crackling louder as if it, too, sensed the gravity of the moment. Ruse and Clyde exchanged uneasy glances.
"What do you mean?" Ruse asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Gran didn't answer immediately. She bent over the man again, checking for any signs of consciousness. Her fingers moved quickly over his pulse, and after a few moments, she looked up, her expression grave.
"We'll see soon enough," she said, her tone not quite reassuring. "But if you ask me, something tells me you boys might've just found yourself a whole lot more than you bargained for."
____
As the night settled around them, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Something had been set in motion, and he wasn't sure what it meant, but he could feel it in his bones—the world, his world, was about to change.