But there was more level ground to the left leading to deep forest, so she decided to try this direction instead. As she pushed the bicycle along, she muttered, 'Trust me to bring a bicycle along on a hiking expedition! Well, Kara, the road can't be far now.'
She soon found herself at the edge of a deep forest, and the ground seemed unobstructed and level; the skies were becoming very dark in places, but enough blue still showed that Kara took little notice. Taking to the bicycle once more, she traced what she thought to be an arcing course that should eventually lead her back to an open hillside she had seen some distance away. It was very dark and cool in the forest, uncomfortably so, raising goosebumps on her bare arms, so that she began picking up her pace. From her vantage at the top of the slope, the patches of forest had seemed very small. She assumed that they would soon come to an end.
The slope soon became a steepening hill, and she continued down this until she noticed, too late, an obstacle that lay across her path: the ground suddenly became flat stone that was wet, slimy and slick with trickling water. Instinctively backpedalling to engage the brake, she felt a sickening loss of control as the back tyre began sliding, slewing the bicycle sideways. She twisted her body to compensate as she was thrown and landed awkwardly on her chest, leaving her retching for breath and seeing stars. At the same moment, as she struggled to her knees, trying to get her wind back and assess the damage, the forest suddenly got as dark as night . . . and then it began to rain.
Seeing stars, still whooping, trying to draw breath, clutching her sore belly, she crawled to the downwind side of the bole of a great tree and huddled in a leafy crack, hoping to wait out the storm. As the pain in her belly subsided to a dull ebbing, she thought that she was going to remain relatively dry, but the rain, which was becoming a storm, only continued, and soon the floor of her little sanctuary was flooded with little rivulets of water, leaving her wet, shivering and cold.
Hugging herself for warmth, leaning as far into the crumbling wood as possible, she spent the entire day in sodden misery, and by late afternoon decided that, wet and dirty or not, bruised and battered and disgraced as she was, that she'd better own up and return to the Casa.
Retracing her steps was an ordeal in itself. Though the bicycle was undamaged, still it was very heavy and awkward to manage over the rugged terrain. She arrived at the Casa with the last light of dusk, replaced the bicycle in the tool shed as she'd found it, and fumbled her way in the dark through the back way. The door to the house opened a little before she reached it, and Roman stood there framed in the light, looking stern.