three wooden barrels lined up next to each other, acting as a makeshift table on which some wooden utensils had been placed: several bowls, spoons and a comb. Next to the barrels there were two small wooden chests, their lids open but she couldn’t see what was inside them. Her eyes were drawn to several swords propped up against one of the barrels, their metal blades glinting in the sun. Again she recognised the swords as belonging to the soldiers who had been aboard the ship. Their presence reassured her somehow, as they seemed to offer protection against an uncertain future.
Apart from that, there was nothing else, and her gaze shifted beyond the camp, taking in the long sandy beach which seemed to stretch for miles and miles in both directions from where she lay.
In any other situation she would have relished the chance to be on such a beautiful beach, taking in the iridescent blue of the sea and sky around her. But this was different. Could they – she didn’t know how many of course – be the only ones inhabiting this vast expanse of emptiness? If they were, then they would have a difficult time surviving. An uninhabited island meant only one thing – there would be no water.
Metellus! Instantly her brain assimilated the fact that he wasn’t here, and a panic filled her, and heedless of the pain in her head, she shot upwards into a sitting position, fighting back the nausea threatening to engulf her, as her eyes scanned the vast stretches of sand before her.
Where was he? She lifted a trembling hand to her forehead, shocked to feel sweat pouring off her brow, and as she moved her fingers trying to sooth the pain in her head she felt a large lump. It was obvious she was still suffering from the effects of whatever had knocked her out, and she should really lie back down and rest, but her mind was racing.
What if Metellus was injured? Dead even. And, ignoring everything her brain was screaming at her to lay still and rest, instead she sat up, forcing herself up on her knees. The world spun for a moment, and she took a deep calming breath before she stood up. Her legs trembled with the exertion, threatening to buckle under her as she took a tentative step forward. But determination, and an inbuilt desire to survive, propelled her forward. She stumbled, and had to reach out a hand to hold onto one of the wooden barrels to prevent herself falling, before she felt stable enough to try again.
She had to find him. She needed to find him, as a feeling of dread came over her at the thought of being the only person alive on the island. Looking down towards the shoreline, at the vast expanse of sandy beach, she could see he hadn’t walked on it as there were no footprints in the sand. That left only one other option – he must have gone into the forest behind her. Turning, she fought the nausea welling up inside her, and walked towards the relative darkness of the forest in front of her.
Metellus paused to wipe the torrent of sweat off his brow, his chest heaving with exertion. For a few moments he stood unmoving, his head bowed, before he lifted up his makeshift wooden spade and continued digging. The “spade” was the same piece of wood which had crashed out of the darkness on the night of the storm, and had knocked Livia out. It was also the same piece of wood which had saved their lives as it had afforded them the much needed buoyancy to stay afloat during the raging storm on that fateful night.
But now, it was being put to a more practical task, helping Metellus dig the holes he needed to bury the dead bodies. Dead bodies, which had been washed up on the shore in ever increasing numbers over the past five days since he had been attending to Livia…
For a moment he hesitated in his digging, leaning his forearms on the plank of wood, as he remembered how close to death she had been. The bump on her head had been the size of a duck egg, and he wondered if she would ever wake up from the unconscious state she had fallen into.
The days had seemed endless as he’d tended to her, wiping away the fever which had consumed her, and when this morning, she had awoken and asked him his name he had felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was a turning point he hoped, one which would mean they could leave this part of the island and try to find food and water. As each day passed, their small reserve of fresh water diminished, and now there was only a quarter of a barrel of water left. But at least they had some water, and he had thanked the gods when the one barrel had been washed ashore intact.
Because of Livia’s incapacity, he hadn’t been able to explore any further than the periphery of the forest, as he couldn’t leave her alone just in case she woke up to find him gone. But the time was approaching when they would have to leave, and Metellus had even considered making a wooden sleigh of some sort so he could drag her along.
But, with the gods on his side, he prayed he wouldn’t have to resort to that just yet; the lump on her temple had decreased substantially and he was praying she would soon be well enough to walk. Hopefully, with one more day of rest, they might be able to leave.
A grim look came over his face. Before he could return to Livia, and their makeshift camp, he needed to get this grave dug and bury the two bodies which had been washed ashore that morning. So with a renewed sense of urgency, he carried on digging the grave, and once he had finished burying the men, he offered a prayer to Pluto the god of the underworld, and headed back to the camp.
But his steps faltered when he saw the empty space on the red woollen cloak he’d used as a bed for Livia. Frowning in frustration, he glanced down the wide expanse of beach, but there was no sign of her. That left only the forest, and his fists clenched in anger, when he realised how much danger she had put herself into.
He threw the plank of wood onto the ground with a muttered curse; and with a grim expression on his face he charged into the undergrowth.
Livia realised she had made a monumental mistake going into the forest. For a start she hadn’t a clue where she was going, and secondly, she may well now be lost, although she was sure the beach was behind her - somewhere.
She’d lost track of how long she had been here – perhaps no more than an hour – but it was soon becoming the longest hour of her life. She realised she had no choice but to abandon her search for Metellus and try to find the beach, and their camp. So she stopped walking and turned round to make her way back.
A sudden gust of wind came in off the sea, causing the trees behind her to sway and groan as if in protest. The noise was eerie as it blew through the trees, and Livia shivered in fright, afraid of the forest, and what could be lurking deep within its dark depths. She immediately thought of wolves. Would the island have wolves? Again she shivered, and then, as if she wasn’t already scared enough, a disembodied voice came from behind her causing her to squeal in fright.
“What in the name of Hades do you think you’re doing, woman?”
“Metellus!” Relief flooded through her, and Livia spun around, but not before a sudden wave of dizziness came over her causing her to stumble. She would have fallen into a tree trunk if it hadn’t been for Metellus reaching out and catching her, and Livia couldn’t help the shudder of awareness that assailed her when she felt the warmth of his hands on her arms. He was so near, she could feel his breath on the side of her neck, and heat curled in the pit of her stomach, as warmth spread through her whole body. She became aware of his strength, his raw power, a power which seemed to overwhelm her, causing her heart to pound, as much as the pounding in her head.
She had never been aware of a man as much as this one in her whole life, and for some reason it unsettled her, unnerved her, and with a blush of mortification she straightened and pushed him away.
“I am well now. Thank you,” she said, trying to control herself, before she saw Metellus frown down at her and his hands dropped away as he took a step backwards, breaking the contact between them.
“I asked what you were doing in the forest, Livia.”
Stiffening at the harshness of his voice, she looked him square in the face, her tone cool, “I was looking for you, I…I thought you may be hurt or something.” Her words trailed off when she saw him raise an eyebrow in disbelief; and now she’d said the words aloud, she realised how stupid they sounded. Here he was, the most physically perfect specimen of manhood she had ever seen, and one who looked none the worse for wear after their ordeal, and she was concerned about him!