Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Emma
We’d been out in the cold woods for what felt like a week, but Henry’s phone shockingly said only forty-three minutes.
Between the biting wind, the temperature, and the creepy woods, it was taking everything in me to not run screaming back to the cabin.
Not that I knew the way back. I was about to ask if we could take a rest for just a minute, when Beth stopped so suddenly I ran into her.
"Ow," she said, but not to me. She rubbed her arm and squinted at something behind a fallen log. "There’s magic out here. Did you know that?"
Daniel grunted up ahead but didn’t break stride.
He moved like he owned these woods, which, as a shifter, he sort of did.
He’d shifted back into his human form a while ago, following the scent without needing to be in his bear form.
Daniel’s beard caught the pale light like frost. The woods here had never heard of a straight path, so we stumbled after him over roots and under dripping firs, each step a new opportunity for Beth to groan about her shoes.
"What kind of magic?" I asked, already regretting it.
She hunched her shoulders. "It’s old. Feels weird. Not from here."
I glanced at her. "Did you bring any of those salt things?"
She tapped the messenger bag at her hip. "I’ve got everything a witch might need in this," she said.
Daniel didn’t turn, but I saw his ears lift. "I don’t need salt. I need a scent. She came out here, then she doubled back. I lost her at the fence, but there’s something else."
Beth bent down, poked a muddy boot print. "That’s a someone, not a something."
Daniel shook his head. "No. It’s a something. Human, but off." His boot snagged a loose stone and it tumbled away, lost in the undergrowth. "Henry, you getting anything on your phone?"
Henry was texting. "No service. Why do you think she ran out here? Isn’t that what she’d least want to do?"
The woods thickened as we walked, trees pressed together. The farther we went, the heavier the silence grew, muffled except for Daniel’s footfalls and Henry’s periodic sniffs. My brother wasn’t crying, but he wasn’t far from it.
We’d been searching for Alice for hours.
"Hold up," Daniel said, raising his hand. It was a cop’s gesture. He used to be the chief of police, and his body still remembered how to order a crowd even if we were the only idiots within five miles.
We stopped, all in a row, and listened. A squirrel darted across our path up ahead and disappeared into a nearby bush. Something colorful in the bush, not the squirrel or the plants, it was a color not found in nature.
"That’s not her," Daniel said. He took another step, and we all took three, clumped together like sheep behind a border collie.
Then Henry squatted, peering at the ground. He picked up something small and fuzzy and held it out. "Isn’t this…"
It was a scrap of orange yarn. Like the yarn Alice used to make her lopsided mittens, or the yarn that peeked from her bag when she came over for soup and Netflix.
I took the scrap and rolled it between my thumb and forefinger. "She was working on a scarf. Said she needed to finish it before the cold came." I looked at Daniel. "Do you think—"
He nodded. "She’s leaving a trail." He didn’t sound hopeful, more like he wanted to believe it but also believed in statistics and the odds weren’t good.
Beth picked at the leaves and found another scrap, this one stuck to a prickle bush. "It goes that way," she said, pointing downhill.
"Let’s go," I said, but Henry was already moving, his scarf billowing behind him. I tried to keep up, but Daniel lengthened his stride and caught up to my brother with no effort. Beth and I jogged after, limbs numb from cold and nerves.
The scraps continued you on for some time. Every time we thought we’d lost the trail, we’d spot another one. My heart was racing with fear and anticipation. This trail was going to lead to something, I just knew it. I only hoped Alice would be happily waiting there at the end.
Even though that sounded too good to be true.
There was so much happening here. We could hope for the best, but we needed to be prepared for the worst. That thought entered my mind as we escaped a particularly thick patch of trees.
Up ahead… we found Alice near a little creek, huddled on a stone with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around her head.
She was wearing an orange sweater, but the yarn had been pulled out on the bottom, probably to leave the bits of it we’d seen in the woods.
Her sweatshirt was muddy, her face streaked with tears.
Henry got there first. He stopped, hands out like he’d spook her if he got too close. "Alice?" he said. "Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. I’m here."
She looked up. Her eyes were swollen, but her lips tried to form a smile. She let out a wobbly little gasp, not quite a laugh, and reached for him. Henry took his jacket off and wrapped her in it, then wrapped himself around her in a hug that said everything he wasn’t.
Alice clutched him like a life raft. “Grandma,” she rasped.
“It’s okay,” Henry said, but we didn’t know enough to be sure that was true.
Daniel scanned the trees, muscles tense like he expected wolves or worse. "Let’s get her back," he muttered.
Beth hung back, biting her lip. I joined her, and we watched as Henry talked soft nonsense to Alice, then gently lifted her off the stone and started leading her toward us.
I expected her to walk, but she was trembling, so Henry, with a grunt, picked her up and cradled her.
I never thought he’d be able to carry more than a large watermelon, let alone a person, but adrenaline makes people do weird things.
We all turned and followed Daniel back up the hill, retracing our steps. The path was harder now, mud slicked up and roots even more treacherous. Henry stumbled a few times but kept Alice steady, talking to her the whole way.
"You’re safe, you’re good, we got you, it’s fine, it’s all fine," he repeated, as if saying it enough would make it true.
Beth looked sideways at me. "She’s not okay," she whispered. "She’s not even close."
I nodded. "Can you do anything?"
She shook her head. "I don’t have anything that will help. She needs food and sleep.”
The word settled between us, cold and thick.
Daniel led us straight to the edge of the woods, then along the gravel road to the house. My toes went numb, then tingled painfully when we got to the cabin and Daniel hustled us all inside.
The interior was toasty warm thanks to the fire we’d left crackling in the old stone hearth. Daniel got to work filling the kettle. Beth guided Alice to the couch and wrapped her in a faded quilt, then sat beside her, hands at the ready.
Alice was still shaking, her hands twitching in the fold of the blanket. I got her a glass of water, found a sleeve of saltines in the pantry, and set them on the coffee table. "Eat," I said. "You’ll feel better."
Alice took a cracker, nibbled it, then stared at her hands.
The kettle shrieked, and Daniel poured hot water into a chipped mug, then dropped a bag of tea in the water. He brought it to Alice, and she wrapped her fingers around it, sipping slow, letting the warmth back into her bones.
Beth took out her phone and tried to get a signal. Nothing. "I’ll try again in a bit," she said, but she didn’t move away from Alice.
We sat like that for a long time, the fire popping, the wind outside rattling the windows. Henry staying close to Alice, his hand draped over her shoulder. I paced the small kitchen, made more tea, and cleaned the few dishes I could find.
Eventually, Alice started nodding off. Beth whispered a little spell, just a couplet under her breath, and Alice’s breathing steadied. She went from tense and alert to limp in seconds. Henry closed his eyes as she sagged against him.
Daniel took the opportunity to step outside. I joined him, even though the cold was miserable. "You think the grandmother is out there?" I asked.
He stared at the woods, jaw clenched. "I wish I knew.”
We stood in silence, watching the moon rise above the pines. I wanted to ask what he really thought, but I already knew. He’d seen too much not to expect the worst.
Inside, the cabin glowed. My brother and his girl, safe for now.