I knew I fucking heard it.
It was faint.
Quiet.
Like it was really, really far away.
But it was there…a fucking lifeline.
“Beth, did you hear it—”
“Move.” She glanced over her shoulder and kept working.
I quickly grabbed the bags and went back to work, knowing they were watching me, and I did my best to act like nothing had happened. I picked up the bags and held them against my chest as I approached the nearest wagon, feeling all of them stare at me. I added them to the cart then turned around to grab something else.
But I tripped in the snow, falling face first.
One of the guys on the horse laughed. “You can tell she’s new.”
My hands pushed through the snow to find the ground to lift myself back up, but I found an object against my hand, a piece of the crate that had come apart and fallen into the snow. I didn’t pause to look at it and discreetly slipped it into my pocket as I got to my feet.
Maybe it was something useful.
But I didn’t even care that much, because that bell continued to ring in my mind, a distant echo. It started to build louder and louder, ringing in my mind like a bell from a church in Paris, right in front of me, making me feel like I was far away from here.
7
The Count of Monte Cristo
When I woke up the next morning, it was a clear day once again.
The storm had passed, the cabins didn’t rattle, and it wasn’t nearly as icy—but cold all the same.
My guard woke me up like clockwork.
My boots were tightened, my jacket was zipped up, and then I stepped out onto the porch.
He hadn’t spoken to me about anything other than work in days. When he delivered my dinner, he left immediately. When he fetched me in the morning, he didn’t give any orders because I was always ready to go. “You’re shoveling today.”
“What?”
“Shoveling the snow at the camp.” He took the stairs then stepped into high drifts of snow. “Happens after every storm.”
At least it was a deviation from the same mindless work. And it was a break from the clearing, where that woman’s body still hung. “What’s your name?”
He walked ahead of me, handling the accumulation of snow better than I did because he was nearly a foot taller. His legs were more muscular than mine, so he cut through the snow like he had blades on his boots. “Why? I don’t know yours.”
The church bell in the distance gave me hope of escape, so now I needed to get all my ducks in a row. The more information, the better. “Raven.” There was no incentive to be difficult at this point.
He walked ahead.
“This is where you tell me yours.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
I trailed behind him, moving through the snow that reached my knees. I had to swing my arms far to get through the powder, my legs burning because they were still sore from the trek into the wild yesterday.
Then I tripped and fell right into a pile, my face hitting the slush on impact.
Now I’d be frozen all damn day.
I pushed out of the pile, losing my grip and sliding through the frictionless wetness.
A gloved hand appeared.
I stared at it and almost didn’t take it.
I was cold, achy, and exhausted. I placed my hand in his and felt his strength pull me to my feet, my tired body lifting effortlessly.
He turned away and continued to walk.
“Thank you.”
“It takes time to get used to.”
I moved behind and followed him until we reached the front of the camp where the main building was located. It faced the open landscape, the sea of whiteness until the next line of trees in the far distance. Women were already there, wielding heavy shovels as they dug into the snow and disposed of it near the trees. “Do you guys stay in that bigger cabin?”
He shook his head. “You’re still on that, huh?” He was fully aware of my desire to escape, but he never tattled on me, never punished me for it. He seemed more amused than anything else.
“Just curious…”
He stopped near the porch, where a group of guards sat in their comfy chairs and drank from mugs with steam rising to their faces, probably hot coffee. “Grab a shovel and get to it.”
“Am I doing this all day?”
“You’re doing this for several days.” He turned around and disappeared—like always. The guy was an enigma, because he seemed separate from the rest of the men even though he wore the same clothing. It was unclear if his station was lower or higher than everyone else.
I grabbed a shovel and moved into the crowd.
That was when I spotted Melanie.
She stuck the shovel into the snow, pushing down on the handle to scoop it up, and then picked it up and carried it to the pile.
I was so happy to see her that my elation chased away the cold—just for a moment.
I moved to where she’d been working, near the corner of one of the cabins.
She came back to me, her eyes full of surprise when she saw my face close up. Before this, all the eye contact we had took place across the clearing, far away from each other. Emotion filled her eyes, the guilt written all over her face.
I was just thankful to see her.
I wanted to rush to her and hug her, to hold my sister in my arms again, to tell her I would solve this problem like all the others. But the guards watched on, and if I did anything out of the ordinary, they would separate us.
I carried the shovel to her area and dug it into the snow, using my foot to push down. “Do it like this. It’s easier than pushing with your arms.”
She was still beside me, like she was too upset to do anything, too overrun with emotion.
“Melanie, come on.”
She breathed
