Not a bear. Not a bobcat or coyote.
Then...what is it?
I’d never heard such wretchedness. Never had a noise stop my heart and scratch itself over every inch of my skin, leaving me shaking and out of breath.
Leaving me desperate to know what it was.
It came again. A lament as well as a roar. A thundering shockwave of pure suffering.
An instinctual part welled deep inside me. My hand curled around my knife, not in self-defense this time, but in preparation to do what was necessary and put such a broken creature out of its misery.
The sound came again. Haunted and low, dismembered by the slight breeze and carried away before I could determine if it was animal, human, or otherworldly.
Crawling from my temporary bedroom, I climbed to my feet, swaying in the bracken, my socks catching on leaf debris, my hand raised with my knife.
Still no moon, no stars. Without my lantern, I couldn’t see two steps in front of me.
If I went exploring, I might fall down the cliff not far from where I’d set up camp. I could break a leg and never get out of this place.
I could die here.
The howl came a final time, echoing with grief and the undeniable moan for help. It sounded like fury melted with sadness, throbbing with terror and torment.
It made me ache.
Made me desperate to help.
And then, it was gone.
And no matter how long I stood outside, a single girl exposed to the elements with every instinct straining to find such a creature, only silence and leaves existed.
CHAPTER FOUR
I’D BEEN DIGGING AGAIN.
Holding up my hands, I scowled at the dirt beneath my nails, the mud up my arms, and the soil spread through my single bed.
Fuck.
That hadn’t happened in a while. It’d been years since I’d had the faculties to unlock the multiple barriers on the dormitory door and sneak my way outside in my sleep. To move with the moonlight. To slip between shadows, naked and silent, before falling to my knees in the earth.
Looking past my dirt-caked hands, I narrowed my eyes at the window.
It was ajar.
Vaulting from my bed, I bolted to it. Grabbing the wrought iron frame, I fisted the old-fashioned latch.
Why is this open?
Who?
How?
My eyes shot around the room, flying over empty beds, searching barren walls, and probing into dark corners.
I stilled and stopped breathing, waiting to hear an intruder cough or command. My skin bristled, and if I’d been graced with fur instead of pitiful flesh, I would’ve shuddered with a warning hackle.
Just like it’d been years since I’d been digging in the night, it’d also been a while since I was young enough to fantasize. To pretend I was another beast—any other beast—than what I was. I’d read every single book in this godforsaken place three times over. I’d devoured economics, cooking, horticulture, and mechanics. I’d indulged in thrillers, sagas, and even romance, but my favorite literature was fantasy.
It was the only thing that had the power to pull me from my existence and place me in the skin of another. The magic of a written word could transform me into a wolf or a giant or a sorcerer so awfully wicked that his hands were caked with a millennium of blood instead of earth.
There’s no one here.
Previously, I wouldn’t have believed myself.
These days, I’d learned to trust my instincts.
Slowly, I relaxed.
The room was empty. Just me, a few cockroaches, and the resident raccoons who’d set up home in the attic above.
But why is the window open?
Pushing it further, I glanced down to the roof of the ten-car garage. To the small overhang where the bottom level spread out wider than the second story above.
There, on the dusty metal, were footprints.
My footprints.
My shoulders crumpled in relief.
I hadn’t gone out the door. I’d used the window. The trap I’d set to alert me if anyone tried to break in had been disarmed. The string attached to the ladle that would crash to the floor had been simply ripped off the handle and set aside.
It should probably worry me that I could do something like that when I had no memory of where else I’d been, but this was an old habit.
A habit I’d outgrown...or so I thought.
Where did I go?
Find out.
Nodding, even though I didn’t truly want to know where I’d gone last night, I left the dormitory. I traveled naked with my back still prickling with warning, stalked down the narrow servant stairs, cut through the kitchen, and barged out the back door.
Sparrows took wing with insulted squawks. Vines shuddered, dropping a few leaves onto my shoulders as I ducked under the overgrown arch that led to the woods and away from the chef garden.
It was warmer than usual today. Muggy and heavy, living up to the stifling summer so far. The ground was dry after being damp from the thunderstorm only a few days ago, and a couple of fallen leaves rested beside dusty indents of my journey last night.
I was skilled at tracking. I’d hunted for years. I’d read game books and how to preserve caught meat.
It was strange to be hunting my own footfalls, but I did it because I had to know.
Had to see if I’d regressed.
My hands balled into fists as I followed the trail into the forest. It wasn’t too far from the house. I’d needed it to be close enough back then, but now, it seemed as if darkness had claimed it as its own.
Nothing grew here. No grasses, no berries, no trees.
A blank scar in the dirt.
A blank scar with nail marks on the perimeter and handfuls of fresh earth piled on top.
I backpedaled.
Fuck.
Grabbing my hair, I yanked at the roots, wishing I could rip out the memories that continued to swarm inside me.
Why had I come here?
What was I trying to do last night?
The answer to that question almost made me vomit all over my recent claw marks.
A flurry of birds suddenly took flight behind me. Squawking indignantly, their wings creating a fluttering raucous of feathers. They bolted from the treetops ringing my ravine.
I spun in panic.
Had they spooked because of me? Because they sensed my rising terror?
They squawked again, circling over the top of the cliff where I’d never ventured. They hovered and dived, investigating something I couldn’t see before taking off in a choreographed cloud.
Something’s out there.
Self-preservation sliced through me.
Rage and hate sent violent possession for my valley down my legs.
No one else was welcome here.
Ever.
I broke into a run, back the way I came, slamming to a stop by the cliff to look up, up, up the craggy ravine that both imprisoned and protected me, through the crisscrossed branches that blocked out the sky, to the swaying treetops beyond.
I waited for another flock to spook.
My eyes darted in the new sunlight, searching for whatever had made them take off. I’d lived here long enough to read the forest, and birds didn’t suddenly perform a mass exodus unless a predator was in their midst.
Was it the bear from last summer?
The coyote that I’d snared and then let go?
I strained to hear. I listened for far longer than usual because something felt off. Something wasn’t quite right.
Nothing.
Silence. Just the bicker of birds, the rustle of leaves, the soft hum of insects.