Untethered: The Steamy Bits

Epilogue | A New Legacy

Gradually, the ground began to slope upwards, and the deciduous trees began to thin out, being replaced by rows upon rows of red cedars. A sweet, spicy scent surrounded them as they trod on the thick carpet of cedar needles, releasing the fragrant essential oils.

Soon, even the cedars became sparse, though. The steel, grey color of the stone that made up the ridge was ahead of them, and the incline became steeper. They crested the ridge shortly, and stopped, both panting to catch their breath.

Ryan gazed over the familiar valley below, and shrugged the pack off his back. Lifting the hem of his soft, grey t-shirt, and exposing his firm stomach muscles, he soaked up the sweat dripping off of his forehead.

Emma's smoky, hazel eyes drank him in hungrily. Perspiration dripped off of him, he was smelly and dirty, and she still wanted to jump him right there. He was the epitome of male, sex-drenched pheromones on two legs-as far as she was concerned, anyway.

Damn hormones. She snapped out of her lust-filled thoughts when she noticed him glancing her way, with a knowing smirk.

"You know," he purred, in that low, gravelly voice that he knew drove her insane, "Sex up here probably wouldn't be very comfortable, but I'm game if you are."

"Fuck off," she muttered, her tan darkening as blood rushed to her face. She might not say every single thought that popped into her head, but she couldn't hide her emotions. Her face and body language broadcast her thoughts like a megaphone, even when her mouth was clamped shut, and Ryan was an expert at reading her.

"I'm just teasing," he cajoled, snaking his arm around her waist and tugging her to his side. "We're almost there, the tree is just a little bit further along the ridge." He pointed, and she saw the ancient cedar immediately. Slinging the pack up on one shoulder, he started forward, and she followed.

When they reached the foot of the cedar, he lowered the pack again and drew a packet of tobacco out of the front pocket, sprinkling it over the roots. She rose a questioning eyebrow and he caught it.

"Gramps was half Ojibwe," he explained, "He always said if we were going to make a prayer to the Creator, we should bring a gift of tobacco. I always bring some when I come up here to visit him."

"And you're sure this is where she would want to be?" Emma asked.

"Yes. She wanted to be with Gramps and her Mom. This is where they're both laid to rest. He used to bring me up here often-always said it felt spiritual to him. His grandfather told him the ancestors spirits lived in the cedars."

"Oh, I just thought they were Catholic," she murmured.

"Well, Ma was, and so was my grandma. Gramps just converted to marry her, but I think he was always a little closer to his Native roots, belief-wise." He shrugged, "I think it's the same Creator, and I always feel at peace up here."

Emma nodded and sat down on a large boulder. "Are you ready to do this?" she prodded gently.

"Yeah." Ryan pulled the urn out of the pack and held it carefully, tracing the engraved words unconsciously with his fingertips. "It's been a year, and she would scold me for holding onto her 'dusty, old bones' this long." He gazed at the remote, but beautiful surroundings, "She'll like it here."

He knelt on the ground, carefully pouring the ashes over the roots, and mixed them into the soil until the urn was empty. Then, he made his way over to Emma and sank to the ground next to the boulder, leaning against her legs. Her hand slid into his hair, and a heavy, reverent silence settled over them. The sun slowly rose, spilling it's light and vivid hues over the valley below. The forest awakened around them, and early morning birdsong broke the stillness in a cacophony of music.