“Charlie? Charlie, can ye hear me, lass?” Through a fog, I could almost feel a hand brushing hair off my face, then resting on my cheek. “Charlotte?”
“Ben?” I mumbled.
“It’s nae Benny, love. It’s me, it’s Gracie. Can ye open yer eyes?”
It took several minutes before I succeeded. “Gracie?” I looked up at my friend. “Where’s Ben?” I asked, hearing the roughness of my voice.
“I havena seen ’im, love.”
I sat up straight. “Oh, no!” I pushed myself onto my knees as hands reached out to help me stand. “Oh, Jimmy, I didn’t realize you were here.” Where is Ben? “Ben?” I called, hoarse with the dryness that comes with travelling. “Ben?” I tried again, a little louder. We listened, but no answer came.
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