Timothy went to the window. There was a quarter moon in the sky, enough to light the fresh dusting of snow on the ground. He took his coat and opened the door.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Just outside, it looks so pretty.”
“I’ll come with you.” She swirled a long, russet-colored cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood up over her head.
The smell was cold, almost sweet. The branches were still, and snowflakes clicked as they touched the ground and crunched under Timothy and Aenya’s feet as they wandered near the birdbath. The light from the windows cast shadows around the bushes over a canvas of white.
Aenya stopped and turned her face upwards. A gentle breeze ruffled the fabric surrounding her face. She closed her eyes and sniffed the air. Timothy moved closer to the tree line, wanting to put the light behind her, to frame her in silhouette.
“I think I may have made an error in judgment,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“What do you mean?”
“It would have been better not to leave your car parked in front of your uncle’s house.” There was tension in her voice.
“Why?”
“He suspects.”
“What?”
“Shhh.” She held up her hand and pulled the hood back from her head, turning to one side, listening to the quiet.
A sharp rushing sound broke the silence, followed by a clap against the tree next to Timothy. It sounded like someone had thrown a hard-packed snowball. Bits of bark pelted his face. A second and third barely missed him, and only because he’d staggered to the side.
“Timothy, run!” His blood turned cold at the sound of panic in her voice. “Now!”
He darted headlong into the trees, not knowing why or what he was running from. The sound of scurrying came from behind, and from more than one creature. The silence that came with the snowfall made whatever they were sound close and gaining. Tiny branches whipped his face, the stings more painful from the cold. Timothy held his hands out, trying to shield himself from what he couldn’t see, praying his feet wouldn’t catch on the underbrush.
Off to the left, he heard a yelp and a thud; whatever it was had been injured and silenced. Fewer were following, but still more than one. What were they? Hearing them, feeling them close behind, but not seeing them in the dark was terrifying. His chest was pounding, and his lungs screamed as frigid air filled them. He increased his speed as he hurtled through the trees.
There was a clearing in the trees, and alarm bells went off in his head: the lake. He didn’t know if it was still frozen, but if it wasn’t, he’d be trapped between the trees and the water. If it was, there was no telling how strong the ice would be. He might escape onto it only to break through the crust and drown. Talk about going full circle. Turning to his right, he veered down an incline. His footing gave way, and he fell to his side, sliding down the hill, grasping at the brush. Timothy fought to regain his feet, spinning around and cracking his face against the base of a tree; the taste of blood filled his mouth.
Something growled from ten feet away. Timothy got his footing just as the bark of the tree next to him exploded. He took several steps away from the sound, but the underbrush was thicker than farther up the hill. He had no choice but to turn toward the lake. He hitched left as a deep moan echoed through the trees. Now only one set of footfalls were coming for him.
He broke through the trees and pounded across a twenty-foot beach and onto the ice. The dusting of snow offered some traction, but it was still slippery. He risked peeking over his shoulder, desperate to see what was chasing him, but there was nothing. Had it stopped? He took a chance and turned around. A short, heavyset figure stepped from the trees and stood on the bank. It raised something like a bow and pointed it in his direction.
He spun on the balls of his feet and started to run. It was a ridiculous idea; he couldn’t outrun an arrow. He hoped that the dark and whatever distance he could put between them would make it more difficult.
A sound echoed across the lake, slight at first, then longer and louder—cracking. Timothy tried to stop, but his feet slid out from under him, arms swirling to keep some balance. He went down hard on his back as several dark lines spread from his body like a spider web. The ice was giving way. Sliding to a stop, he expected to sink into the icy depths of the lake any second. Trying to kill himself in the river had taught him the shock of cold water, and he was terrified of feeling that again.
A fluttering noise came from somewhere above. He strained in the darkness, trying to locate it.
A black shape was hurtling toward him, growing larger by the second; its sides rippling in the wind, hands reaching toward him like death come to snatch its victim. He yelled just as it swooped and grabbed him.
“Got you,”
“Aenya?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Timothy laughed hysterically as they soared up and away from the lake into the swirling mist of snow.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Just outside, it looks so pretty.”
“I’ll come with you.” She swirled a long, russet-colored cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood up over her head.
The smell was cold, almost sweet. The branches were still, and snowflakes clicked as they touched the ground and crunched under Timothy and Aenya’s feet as they wandered near the birdbath. The light from the windows cast shadows around the bushes over a canvas of white.
Aenya stopped and turned her face upwards. A gentle breeze ruffled the fabric surrounding her face. She closed her eyes and sniffed the air. Timothy moved closer to the tree line, wanting to put the light behind her, to frame her in silhouette.
“I think I may have made an error in judgment,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“What do you mean?”
“It would have been better not to leave your car parked in front of your uncle’s house.” There was tension in her voice.
“Why?”
“He suspects.”
“What?”
“Shhh.” She held up her hand and pulled the hood back from her head, turning to one side, listening to the quiet.
A sharp rushing sound broke the silence, followed by a clap against the tree next to Timothy. It sounded like someone had thrown a hard-packed snowball. Bits of bark pelted his face. A second and third barely missed him, and only because he’d staggered to the side.
“Timothy, run!” His blood turned cold at the sound of panic in her voice. “Now!”
He darted headlong into the trees, not knowing why or what he was running from. The sound of scurrying came from behind, and from more than one creature. The silence that came with the snowfall made whatever they were sound close and gaining. Tiny branches whipped his face, the stings more painful from the cold. Timothy held his hands out, trying to shield himself from what he couldn’t see, praying his feet wouldn’t catch on the underbrush.
Off to the left, he heard a yelp and a thud; whatever it was had been injured and silenced. Fewer were following, but still more than one. What were they? Hearing them, feeling them close behind, but not seeing them in the dark was terrifying. His chest was pounding, and his lungs screamed as frigid air filled them. He increased his speed as he hurtled through the trees.
There was a clearing in the trees, and alarm bells went off in his head: the lake. He didn’t know if it was still frozen, but if it wasn’t, he’d be trapped between the trees and the water. If it was, there was no telling how strong the ice would be. He might escape onto it only to break through the crust and drown. Talk about going full circle. Turning to his right, he veered down an incline. His footing gave way, and he fell to his side, sliding down the hill, grasping at the brush. Timothy fought to regain his feet, spinning around and cracking his face against the base of a tree; the taste of blood filled his mouth.
Something growled from ten feet away. Timothy got his footing just as the bark of the tree next to him exploded. He took several steps away from the sound, but the underbrush was thicker than farther up the hill. He had no choice but to turn toward the lake. He hitched left as a deep moan echoed through the trees. Now only one set of footfalls were coming for him.
He broke through the trees and pounded across a twenty-foot beach and onto the ice. The dusting of snow offered some traction, but it was still slippery. He risked peeking over his shoulder, desperate to see what was chasing him, but there was nothing. Had it stopped? He took a chance and turned around. A short, heavyset figure stepped from the trees and stood on the bank. It raised something like a bow and pointed it in his direction.
He spun on the balls of his feet and started to run. It was a ridiculous idea; he couldn’t outrun an arrow. He hoped that the dark and whatever distance he could put between them would make it more difficult.
A sound echoed across the lake, slight at first, then longer and louder—cracking. Timothy tried to stop, but his feet slid out from under him, arms swirling to keep some balance. He went down hard on his back as several dark lines spread from his body like a spider web. The ice was giving way. Sliding to a stop, he expected to sink into the icy depths of the lake any second. Trying to kill himself in the river had taught him the shock of cold water, and he was terrified of feeling that again.
A fluttering noise came from somewhere above. He strained in the darkness, trying to locate it.
A black shape was hurtling toward him, growing larger by the second; its sides rippling in the wind, hands reaching toward him like death come to snatch its victim. He yelled just as it swooped and grabbed him.
“Got you,”
“Aenya?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Timothy laughed hysterically as they soared up and away from the lake into the swirling mist of snow.