That stiffened her spine, because it was comforting to realize that despite everything, she didn’t want to give up and die right there. She still wanted to live, no matter how painful life was, no matter how much God had forsaken her.
Mattie moved forward again. Now that she knew the creature was near, she heard its subtle movements, the way it carefully mirrored her pace.
It’s not a normal animal. It’s not natural.
The creature was on her left side, the blind side. If she turned her head she might catch a glimpse of its shape out of her right eye but she didn’t need to see it to know it was there.
She felt it, felt the way it disturbed the air between them, felt the intensity of its stare—its watchfulness.
Mattie was so frightened she could hardly feel her body. Her limbs seemed both stunningly heavy and light as air, and she felt caught in a kind of slow-motion haze. Her head throbbed, especially the left eye, and her mouth kept filling up with saliva, forcing her to swallow convulsively over and over. All the while she felt the shadow moving in time with her, smelled the rank scent of its fur and the blood on its breath.
The blood in the snow and the animals hanging from the trees. Why does it do those things? Why does it not eat its prey the way an animal is supposed to? Why is it following me? Does it want to eat me or add me to its collection?
The atmosphere seemed to shift, the quality of the creature’s attention changed. She sensed it, the way she could smell a storm approaching on a sunny day. Mattie’s heart beat even faster than it already was doing—a little rabbit sprinting away inside the hollow of her body.
It’s had enough of this game. It’s going to attack.
She curled up her fists, though she didn’t know what to do with them, didn’t know how she might hurt the creature, didn’t know if she’d even have a chance. Her hands seemed like tiny, pathetic things—weak and useless.
You’re useless. That’s what William always said.
And then the clouds shifted and the tiny sliver of moon was revealed and she saw the end of the path just ahead of her. The end of the path, and the clearing and the cabin beyond.
“William,” she said, and a surge of energy she didn’t know she still had pushed her into a run.
William had the gun. William could shoot the creature. He’d wanted to anyway—that was what the ridiculous, exhausting trek was supposed to be about earlier. And now Mattie was bringing the terror right to their door. All he had to do was stand on his porch and shoot it and she wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore, wouldn’t have to spend any more terrified nights out in the woods.
Her sudden movements must have surprised the animal, for she didn’t hear it follow as she half-ran, half-staggered to the cabin.
The lights were out—of course they were out. It was the middle of the night and William was asleep. The door seemed so far away, then it abruptly jerked closer, like time and space had suddenly shifted.
Almost there, Mattie thought. Almost there.
The creature hadn’t followed. She sensed its hesitation, its reassessment of potential threats. It snorted and pawed the ground, much like it had before it settled down to sleep, except this didn’t sound like settling. This sounded more like it was deciding to charge or not.
The cabin door was suddenly before her, though she didn’t know how she’d managed to get there. A thrill of triumph shot through her as she grasped the knob, turned it, and pushed. The door rattled, shifted, stopped as it met the pressure of the bolt on the other side.
William had locked the door.
“William!” she called, pounding the wood with her fist, but her cries were small and feeble things just like her fists. He’d squeezed her throat too hard and she couldn’t scream even though she wanted to.
“William!” she cried again, banging her forearms against the door. It rattled the bolt but stayed fast.
She threw her body against it with all the strength she had left, calling her husband’s name, all the while thinking, How could he? How could he lock the door against me? How could he leave me out here?
He was a heavy sleeper, so it was possible he hadn’t heard her knocking, but she had to wake him. If she didn’t wake him she’d be out in the clearing all night, and sooner or later the creature would come out of the trees. She didn’t think it would wait much longer.
And when it did, it would open her up, take her bones, string her to one of the branches that lined the path to its cave. All William would find in the morning would be a splash of scarlet in the snow.