Octavia
The driver unloads our bags and brings them inside one by one.
The air is cool but not cold. The place does not feel lived in, but it is clearly cared for, which makes sense given that this is Adelaide’s family chalet and her people will have cleaned and stocked it in preparation for our arrival.
We disperse without speaking. I grab my bag and head upstairs toward the room I occupy every year. I drop my luggage and immediately head back down to haul up the shopping bags.
Once everything is inside, I pause in the doorway and take it in properly.
The room is spacious, centred on a king sized bed with a silk duvet that looks very comfortable. Two bedside tables sit on either side. There is a vanity set against one wall, and the carpet underfoot is thick and soft. Two doors lead off the space, one to the en-suite and one to the wardrobe.
I head for the bathroom. I turn on the shower, undress quickly, and step under the water the moment it heats.
I exhale as the water hits my skin, the tension easing as the travel finally washes away. I stay under the stream longer than usual because I froze out there, everything still numb, my fingers, my toes, even my nose, despite the hat, the gloves, and all the time spent in and out of the shops.
The temptation is too strong, and after washing and conditioning my hair, I rinse and start scrubbing my body with shower gel, unable to stop.
My skin turns raw, and the cuts on my thighs begin to bleed from the force of it, but I don’t care.
It feels grounding. I know it is wrong, but it feels good all the same, and whatever gets you moving, I suppose.
Eventually, I manage to stop myself. I wrap a towel around my body and another around my hair, leave the bathroom, and once back in my room, I dig my toiletry bag out of my luggage and apply serum, then moisturiser. I hiss when it touches my skin.
It has barely been a few hours in this country, yet the cold has already bitten. My face feels dry and irritated. I swipe on some lip balm and feel marginally better.
I find a hair dryer in one of the drawers and plug it in, drying my hair as I brush it out, then going over it again. I clip a small section back so it stays out of my eyes.
I take some clothes out of my bag and get dressed, pulling on a pair of fluffy trousers, a slim long sleeved top, and thick socks. Then I move to the wardrobe and look around.
I grin when I find them and slip them on—my green elf slippers with curled toes and red pom poms.
Perfect.
After a brief search through the bags, I manage to locate my phone. I leave my room and head downstairs.
Adelaide and Piper are already there. Adelaide is barefoot, dressed in wide leg lounge trousers and a deep emerald long sleeved crop top. Her hair is piled into a messy bun, curls escaping as she opens cupboard after cupboard.
Piper stands by the fireplace in a green velvet tracksuit, her ginger hair braided down her back. The light catches her freckles, making her green eyes glow even more.
“It’s still freezing,” Piper says. “We should light the fireplace. It’ll make it warmer. And cozier.”
I smirk as I walk past her. “If you light it, we’ll lose you before the first night. Blanket, book, fireplace. Your perfect setup.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it.
“The fridge is full,” Adelaide says from the kitchen, staring into it. “But I can’t decide what to make for dinner.”
I lean against the wall. “Please don’t.”
She looks at me.
“I don’t think it’ll be edible,” I continue. “On second thought, we’ll all die from a gas leak before food poisoning even gets a chance.”
She lifts the knife in her hand, one I don’t even know when she grabbed, and points it at me without blinking. “Don’t tempt me. I have excellent aim.”
“I actually dare you.”
The look in her eyes is pure challenge.
The knife leaves her hand the next second.
It whistles past my head and buries itself into the wooden wall behind me.
“You two are impossible,” Piper mutters.
Adelaide shrugs, strolls over, yanks the knife free, and walks back to the kitchen like she didn’t just attempt murder.
Piper bends down in front of the fireplace, and I crouch beside her, peering inside.
“There has to be some wood around here,” I say.
A noise makes me look up.
My sister is coming down the stairs, her steps light, her expression amused as she takes in the sight of Piper and me crouched by the fireplace.
“You need wood to start a fire,” she says.
I exhale. “Thank you, genius. Whatever would we do without your endless wisdom?”
She shakes her head, smiling.
Piper pushes herself up from the floor, brushing ash from her hands. “Come on,” she says to me. “Let’s find some wood before it gets too dark.”
It is already pitch black, but I don’t comment on it.
I nod and follow her to the entrance, grabbing my jacket, then adding the hat and gloves I bought earlier, pulling on my boots and tucking my scarf in properly.
We’re almost out when my sister murmurs, “Be careful.”
Piper rolls her eyes. “If someone comes after us, I’ll scream loud enough for you to hear my last words.”
I smirk as I tug on my gloves. “If we freeze to death, blame Adelaide.”
“Blame yourself,” Adelaide calls from the kitchen without looking up.
I glance back at my sister. “Check your blood sugar while we’re gone.” Then I tilt my head toward Adelaide. “And don’t let her near anything sharp or flammable.”
Adelaide looks up, grabs a metal spoon from the counter, and launches it at my head.
I duck easily.
“Pity I missed,” she says, smiling.
I shut the door before I actually lose my temper and spill blood. The fact that she insists on a truce while I am the only one honouring it is absurd, especially given that patience and I have never belonged in the same sentence.
Outside, the snow crunches beneath our boots as we head down the steps.
“Where would they keep the wood?” Piper asks.
I shrug. “No idea. I doubt Adelaide’s ever had to look for it herself.”
We check the garage with no luck, finding nothing but sleek, expensive cars.
Piper sighs, clearly disappointed. “I really want to light the fireplace. Let’s check around the back. Maybe there’s a shed.”
We circle the chalet, but it is dark, and visibility is poor. Trees loom close by, their branches heavy with snow.
Then a noise breaks the silence.
Piper freezes.
“What was that?” she whispers. “Did you hear it?”
“Yes,” I say quietly, then murmur, “Shh. They can smell your fear.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Whoever’s out here.”
“Oh, fuck.”
The sound comes again, closer this time.
“Why the hell did we have to walk toward the trees?” Piper hisses. “Couldn’t we have stayed closer to the chalet?”
We stay perfectly still for several seconds. I lift three gloved fingers and lower my voice. “On three.”
I count it out under my breath, one, two, then three, and we bolt together, running as hard as we can, our boots slipping on the snow as my heart races.
We reach the chalet, throw the door open.
“A bear,” I gasp, bent over as I try to steady my breathing.
“A wolf,” Piper corrects flatly at the same moment. “If you’d ever paid attention in class, you’d know bears hibernate during winter. So it was most certainly a wolf.” She gives an involuntary shudder.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Adelaide says from the kitchen, rolling her eyes. “It is possible for some bears not to hibernate. Hibernation is a flexible process, influenced by food availability and individual behaviour. Some adapt, find alternative food sources, even human waste—”
She’s cut off by the door slamming open a second time.
I scream.
Piper screams.
Everyone screams.
My sister is suddenly there with a rolling pin in her hand, while Adelaide snatches up a barstool.
“Octavia,” my sister mouths, motioning for us to duck.
We do.
The rolling pin flies over my head. Adelaide hurls the chair, and I manage to tear my boot off and throw it at the door.
“Go away, you monster!” I yell.