“。 . . have to hurry because Jen is going to meet us on the trail in about an hour and we don’t want to miss her,” C.P. said.
She hadn’t seen his face yet, this friend of Griffin’s, just the back of his head covered by a red knit cap with a large fluffy ball at the crown.
I had a hat like that once. Except it wasn’t red. It was blue and white and maroon stripes with a blue puffy ball at the top, and there was a big “A” on the front.
Mattie couldn’t remember what the “A” was for, though. She had a flash of men swooping around on ice, holding sticks in front of them, but she couldn’t quite remember what they were doing or why.
She shook her head. That wasn’t important right now. She had to know what the strange men were doing, and if they had moved on. Mattie had a vague notion of going outside to sweep away the evidence of their prints, and then her own. Then William would never know they had come and she wouldn’t have to face his wrath.
Mattie stepped silently into the bedroom. She knew of old where the boards creaked and how to avoid them. This was practically second nature now, as she never wanted to wake William if she got out of bed in the night. And she didn’t want the two men outside—if they were still there—to know she was inside.
She inched away the curtain and peered out.
Griffin’s camera obscured his face and Mattie saw his finger depressing a button over and over. C.P. was gesturing excitedly at the symbols in the snow, the ones the creature had left the night before, the ones that had convinced William that the creature was a demon come to try him.
Mattie couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but their intention was very clear. They were interested in the creature, like William was. And they were going to follow its tracks.
No, she thought. They can’t.
If Griffin and C.P. followed the creature from the cabin, then the animal would think that she and William had ignored the warning. The creature would kill Griffin and C.P., and it would come back to the cabin for her and William.
It sounded crazy, even in her head—the idea that an animal could think and reason like a person. And maybe it didn’t think and reason exactly like a person, but it clearly wasn’t simply made up of instinct like every other animal in the woods. Mattie couldn’t let the two men outside risk being sorted into piles like the creature’s other victims.
And I don’t want it to come back for me, either.
But what should she do? Go outside?
No, I had better not. It’s not safe. It’s not just about William, either. I don’t know if I can trust them.
But she couldn’t just allow the strangers to wander blithely into danger.
She stood, irresolute, unable to warn them, unable to force herself to break William’s dictate.
How will you ever run from him if you can’t even do this?
Samantha again. She was very sassy for such a small girl.
“You’ve got a sassy mouth on you.” William’s voice, one of those long ago and far away threads that seeped forward from the back of her mind, followed by a memory of pain—a great swipe of his hand across her face.
Just go. Just tell them before it’s too late.
But I can’t go outside.
Mattie’s hands moved, seemingly without her own thought or consideration, but they were trembling. They pushed the curtains back, lifted the window. Cold air rushed into the cabin, stinging her face.
Both men turned as the window scraped in its frame.
Mattie opened her mouth, tried to say, “You can’t follow it,” but nothing came out except a little croaky sound.
“What the hell?” C.P. said, but Griffin was already moving toward the cabin.
He must not have had a clear view of her face, for when he drew closer she heard his quick indrawn breath. His dark eyes snapped with anger as he rushed closer.
“It’s you! My god, what did he do to you?”
Griffin reached through the open window but Mattie retreated a few steps in shock. No one ever touched her except William. She hadn’t even spoken to another person in years.
Mattie tried to steady herself, but she couldn’t stop wringing her hands and her heart was beating so hard she felt sick. The back of her throat was clogged with acid and her legs shook.
“I’m sorry,” Griffin said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just so . . .”
He trailed off, and she saw him making an effort to hide his surprise and anger.
William never does that. Once his anger bubbles up he lets it spill over, lets it burn me.