Chapter Five

I woke up to the sound of something off. Not the sharp crunch of a branch snapping under the snow or the cabin creaking with the wind. It was deeper and sharper. The kind of sound that makes you question if you're hearing it… or if someone is hearing you. My eyes snapped open to the blinding white light and the bite of cold air on my lungs. It was seconds later that I realized I was outside. I was sitting on the porch steps, arms hanging between my knees, exhaling into the winter day like smoke from an unreal burning chimney. The air was sharp and clean, but with a sour bite that was not quite identifiable. Snow was everywhere and in all directions, the tree line a black wall of pine and shadow. I didn't remember getting out of here. I didn't remember anything. Not dreaming, not waking, not even putting one foot in front of the other to walk out onto the porch. The last thing I remembered was the weird sound against the cabin’s window last night.

The wood I rested on was cold enough that it would have frozen me but strangely, I was warm. Warm? No. Hot, fever hot. My hands were slick with sweat, my forearms flushed as if I'd been standing too near fire. My feet… my feet were bare, toes clenched together. They should have been screaming in pain, should have been numb, but they weren't. They simply had this strange, crawling heat spreading up my calves, insinuating itself into bone.

I rose slowly. The porch boards creaked beneath me, the sound loud in the stillness. My heart pounded in my ears, slow and laborious, and I found myself glancing down the row of trees without actually looking for something in particular. The snow had stopped and the branches were still. But there was something in the atmosphere, it was heavy and poised. As if I'd been awakened in the middle of someone else's breathing.

"Sebastian."

The voice was close enough. Rowan leaned on the porch railing as if he'd stood there long enough to build frost on his jacket. His arms were crossed, one boot on the step, his eyes glinting with an intensity that ratcheted my shoulders up tight.

"What the hell…" I started to say, and he pushed himself off the railing, the boards creaking beneath him.

"Were you planning on freezing your toes off, or is this some new drill procedure?" His voice was flat, but his eyes weren't. They kept staring down at my feet, to my ankles, which were bare, then up to my face, and every return made something twist down in my belly. I stared down at myself, at my red skin, my hair so wet it managed to have snowflakings in it. "I… I must've gone outside without thinking."

"Without thinking?" He took a step forward, his boots crunching on the ice. The air between me and him was colder despite the heat in my skin. It's six o'clock in the morning. You're barefoot in the snow. And you're pale enough to suggest that you've been running a fever for the past week. "I'm fine," I told him, weaker than I meant to sound. My voice cracked just hard enough to betray me.

His gaze did not falter. He was studying me like I was a puzzle might to be studied- the tilted head, the furrowed brow, expecting the last piece to fit. He did not trust me. He was not trying to.

We just sat there for a moment, paralyzed. Then he pulled out of his coat pocket a pair of fat wool socks. "Put them on before you lose something you'll need." I stalled for some reason believing that to take them from him would mean something I was not yet ready to acknowledge. But his expression left me no choice. Later, after practice, we stayed behind for cooldown. The other guys had long since gone, the rink echoing with the sound of my blades tracing slow arcs on the ice. Rowan was sitting on the bench, watching me.

When I finally made it across the ice, he wordlessly tossed me a water bottle. There was a thick silence, not just between us but inside the building as well, as if the entire universe had been bottled up to where we were.

"You've had prior injuries," he said finally, his voice low. I stopped mid-sip. "What exactly am I supposed to say to that?"

It means," he spoke, elbows forward, "you've got scars that aren't caused by blades or sticks. And I've seen the way you lose it. The temper. The. blackouts."

"I don't blackout.".

“Don't you?" He stared at me, his eyes unwavering, and for a crazy moment I thought he would lean forward and touch my cheek, my throat, something to confirm whatever was going through his mind. Instead, he settled back. "You should be careful, Sebastian. Before the full moon…" He stopped.

"Before the full moon what?" I asked. He clenched his jaw, looking angry. "Forget it." I didn't.

I wanted to get some groceries and although I had the map, Rowan insisted on taking me. We went into town that afternoon. The grocery store was so small that I could see all of the aisles from the door. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee. I was approximately halfway to the counter when I sensed some eyes on me.

A man stood in the aisle of canned food, as white as frost, staring. When our eyes locked, something passed over his face. Was it recognition? Fear? I couldn't quite tell and then he dropped the basket in his hands and ran, the doorbell above it ringing as he went through.

I stepped outside a minute afterwards and saw Rowan leaning against his truck.

"Lost his brother," he said before I could speak. "Years and years ago. Hiking." His tone was quiet but cutting. "Body was  never found and people have their ideas."

"And you?" I said. His gaze moved to mine, unreadable. "He looked at you like he'd seen a ghost, I think."

I said nothing. The sun was low by the time I headed home, the snow reflecting light that made my eyes ache. The woods rose along the road, black and thick, each tree heavy with ice. I kept my eyes on the path, hands buried in my pockets.

But the feeling came before I even saw it. The prickling at the base of my skull, the instinct to turn… I obeyed it.

And there they were. The same glowing eyes from my dreams. Too bright, too steady, locked on me from the shadows of the trees.

Only this time, it wasn’t night and I wasn't dreaming. And they were real.