Run

The stranger in the doorway moved like a man on a rope. He shoved in, rain rolling from his jacket, a gun in his hand. Thorne! You move and I shoot!

Clara's chest kicked. Everything felt loud. Ash stood in front of her without thinking, a slab of muscle and purpose. He kept his hands open so the men could see them. Who are you? he asked, calm as a knife.

A friend of the town, the man said. He kept the barrel aimed. Behind him, the leader from before hovered with the scar through his eyebrow.

Dr. Wells stepped forward slowly. You need a warrant, he said. We do not do this.

We came fast, the leader snapped. We heard a shot. People are scared.

Clara felt the word like a stone. People were always scared of what they didn't understand. The bearded man with the gun shifted his weight. He looked younger than his face said.

Let her go, he said suddenly, voice rough. He kept the gun aimed but his hand shook.

Ash did not let go of Clara's hand. He kept his body between her and the doorway. You won't use her as bait," he said.

We won't hurt her, the leader said. We just want to talk. Come with us and you'll be among people who can watch and keep everyone safe.

Clara thought about what 'watch' meant. People watching could be protection or a slow form of violence. I am not an exhibit, she said. Her voice was plain. I am not a prize.

The leader's jaw twitched. You were found with a man who doesn't belong to our kind.

He was wounded, Clara said. He was at the hospital. He needed help.

A shot of cold went through the cabin. Someone in the doorway asked, Who fired?

No one answered. The bearded man's hand tightened. Flashlight beams cut the room. The men listened like wolves.

Dr. Wells tried again. Sit. We will talk. If someone fired a shot, we will call the sheriff. Violence isn't the answer.

It took a long moment, but the gun lowered. The leader's voice was rough with decision. We can put you in a place to stay. The town has houses for this.

Clara laughed, short and raw. You mean cages. I will not be locked in for your peace.

Then what? the bearded man muttered. He sounded tired, not cruel now. Stay with him in the woods?"

Yes, she said. For now.

The leader's face hardened. Then the town will guard itself. We will not stop hunting what we see as a threat.

They left with flashlights and splashes. The rain swallowed them. The bearded man paused at the edge of the porch and looked at Clara, eyes flicking with something like apology. He nodded once and then he was gone.

When the door fell closed and the dark pressed at the windows, Clara felt the cabin shrink. Ash sat opposite her, wet and raw and somehow whole. He looked at her like he kept a small sun in his chest.

You're dangerous, he said, not like a threat.

So are you, she answered. Her voice was bare.

They traded small plans supplies, bandages, who to trust. Dr. Wells made calls. The lamp hummed. Shadows moved like hands.

At some point Ash laughed, a sound half bitter, half tired. We go from one kind of watch to another, he said. Either the pack claims you or the town chains you with fear.

Clara swallowed. Either way, I've lost the life I picked.

Or found a different one, Ash said. He reached and took her hand. His fingers fit like two pieces that had been held apart. The contact tightened something in her ribs. She thought of the memory that had come with the touch the moss and the moon and a promise left like a bruise.

Outside, something moved in the trees. The rain softened to a whisper. A flare of light arced in the distance like someone walking a line.

We have to plan, she said. We can't wait to be pulled apart.

Plan what? Ash asked, his voice small.

How to stay free enough to make a choice, she said. How to keep from being forced.

He nodded. We find allies. We make the town see you as more than a threat."

Allies who won't judge, she added. Allies who will help because it's right, not because they fear.

They made a short list Mara, Dr. Wells, people who had been kind at the hospital. They wrote names in the lamplight.

We need proof, Clara said. Proof he wasn't hunting people, that he's been hurt, that he's not what they say.

Ash flexed his hand. Proof and patience, he said. Two things we don't have much of.

The cabin settled. Outside the trees breathed and the town did too. Somewhere a branch snapped and silence followed. Clara felt the weight of the night's choice.

Whatever happens, Ash said quietly, I won't let them make you pay more.

Then fight, she said. With me.

He smiled, small and fierce. They held hands and planned in low voices. Rain tapped the roof in time with their breath.

Dr. Wells sat by the window. I'll help, he said. I know people who won't jump to guns. Clara felt a small match of hope.

They named allies. Mara will believe me, Clara said. They planned how Mara could bring supplies, how Dr. Wells would document wounds, where to find a steady lawyer. They agreed to move in shadows while they gathered proof.

At dawn Clara stood and faced Ash. We do this together, she said. He nodded. They moved like conspirators, the cabin their small, stubborn world against the dark.