“What about Griffin?” Jen said, and Mattie heard the tears in her voice. “I can’t go after him like this.”
“I’ll go myself,” C.P. said. “Don’t worry about Griffin.”
“You can’t drag him on your own. And the animal might have hurt him.”
“Samantha will help me. Won’t you, Samantha?”
Every time one of them said that name, Samantha, Mattie had to stop herself from correcting them, from saying, “No, my name is Mattie.” Mattie wasn’t her name. Mattie was the name William had forced on her so that she would forget herself.
She realized that they were waiting for her answer. Did she really want to go to the creature’s cave again to find a man that she was fairly certain was already dead? No, she did not. She thought their hope was foolish.
But as long as there’s a chance . . .
And these people had been good to her. They’d helped her. What kind of person would she be if she didn’t help them?
I don’t know what kind of person I am. William took that from me.
“Yes. I’ll . . . go . . . with . . . you,” she said.
“See?” C.P. said to Jen. “We’ll find a good place for you to wait and we’ll find Griffin and come back for you.”
Mattie heard Jen’s indrawn breath, thought that the other woman was about to argue with C.P. as usual. Then another sound intruded.
The crunch of a boot and then a slide through the snow—the unmistakable sound of a person limping.
Thunk-drag-thunk-drag-thunk-drag.
It was coming from the direction of the stream.
Mattie whispered, “William.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The only reason William would be coming from that direction was because he’d been following their tracks. Mattie couldn’t tell how far away he was but the noise made it clear that he moved steadily, if slowly, in their direction.
“Cabin,” she said, pushing Jen and C.P. along the trail. “Hurry.”
Mattie wanted to run, wanted to sprint for the safety of the cabin, wanted to lock the door and pull the curtains shut and huddle under the bed. She realized then that she was more scared of facing William again than the creature in the woods. William was the boogeyman, the monster in her nightmares. William could hurt her far more than the creature ever could.
Thunk-drag-thunk-drag-thunk-drag.
The creature must have hurt William’s leg and that was why he was walking that way. It explained the horrible scream they’d heard earlier, when she thought （hoped, you hoped with all of your heart） that William was dying.
They hurried as best they could, Jen stumbling frequently, C.P. dragging her along when he had to. Mattie darted ahead and then back again, biting her lip, her throat burning with sick acid bubbling up from her churning stomach.
Hurry, hurry, she thought.
For no matter how fast they moved, she heard the inexorable thunk-drag-thunk-drag-thunk-drag behind them.
They weren’t even trying to be silent now. All three of them knew that William was following their tracks in the snow, and the only thing that mattered was reaching the cabin before he did, so that they could bolt the door against him.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Mattie thought she heard William approaching faster, thought she felt his hands reaching out to grab her braid, pull her down into the snow, his fists pounding into her body, his lips saying, A man’s got to have sons, Martha, and you’re the one to give them to me.
But no, he wasn’t there, he wasn’t dragging her away, he was still behind them, not close enough to see and they could still escape, they could still reach the cabin before he did.
Thunk-drag-thunk-drag-thunk-drag-thunk-drag.
Where was the cabin? She didn’t think they were that far away from it. For a moment Mattie worried that she’d gotten turned around in the dark, that they weren’t on the path to the cabin at all.
Then the clearing was before them, and the little cluster of buildings that had been her home for the last twelve years.
No, she thought as she ran for the cabin door. It has never been a home. A home is a place where there is warmth and love and safety, and I have never had those things here.
Mattie heard Jen and C.P. limping along several feet behind her, and beyond them the sound of William approaching.
Thunk-drag-thunk-drag-thunk-drag.
The cabin could only be locked from inside, not without, so Mattie knew that William could not bar it against her if he wasn’t home. Her boots clattered over the porch and she threw the cabin door open.
Inside it was cold and dark, the fire that she’d carefully tended earlier down to only a few embers.