He doesn’t cherish you. He doesn’t love you, she thought, but the same despairing thought followed that always did—Where can I go? What can I do?
She was completely dependent on him in every way.
As soon as Mattie was on her feet, William jerked her toward the cave mouth. Almost immediately they were bathed in the waft of fetid air. Mattie turned her head away, covering her mouth and nose with her scarf. Even William, normally so self-mastered, made a gagging noise.
Mattie couldn’t help a tiny little smile of satisfaction at that, and since her mouth was covered she allowed herself to have it. William would never know.
He pulled up his own scarf and took a few steps inside the cave. The cave’s deep shadow swallowed him up immediately.
“Smells like a cache,” he said. “But bears don’t usually keep a cache where they sleep, or in places where they can’t cover up the food.”
“If it is a cache shouldn’t we stay out?” Mattie asked.
She did not want to go inside where it was dark and stank of dead things. Her legs felt wobbly and off balance and her vision still hadn’t righted itself. Everything would blur, then clear, then seem like it jumped up and down, then go blurry again and the cycle would start all over.
“If it was in the cave we would know. It would have rushed out the second you started making all that noise. I didn’t come all this way just to turn around because you’re so weak you can’t climb a hill.”
He pulled two candles from his pocket and handed both to Mattie. He lit each one with a long wooden match.
“You stay right next to me so I can see. I can’t hold a candle and the rifle at the same time.”
Mattie nodded. William wanted to go inside, so there wasn’t any point in arguing any more even if this was the most foolish idea he’d ever had. Her throat felt clogged up with her fear, a tangible thing that she couldn’t swallow down.
They shouldn’t go into the cave. Even if the bear (or creature) wasn’t there at the moment it could return at any time. When it did they would be fish in a barrel, trapped with no way to escape.
Mattie kept pace with William as they entered. Hot candle wax dropped onto her mittens, but she’d knitted them thick and tight to keep out the cold. The wax settled and cooled quickly without burning her.
The smell was much worse just a few paces into the cave. The walls took a sharp turn and grew narrower, the ceiling much lower. Mattie and William were able to walk side by side, but only just.
“There,” William said, pointing to the ground in front of them. He tucked the rifle under his arm and took one of the candles, crouching down to peer at the dirt. “Do you see?”
Mattie stepped closer, squinting down. The flickering candle allowed her to just make out two of the prints they’d seen yesterday, side by side and about a foot apart.
“It must have to bend over to get through here,” Mattie said.
“I knew it was up here. I knew it,” William said, triumph ringing in his voice. “Now I can kill it before anyone comes looking.”
“Comes looking?” Mattie said. “Why would anyone?”
“An animal that big will attract trophy hunters and other types,” William said darkly. He didn’t elaborate on what those “other types” might be. “All that has to happen is for one fool to catch a glimpse of it somewhere down the mountain. They’ll all swarm up here like a bunch of ants, stomping through our woods and killing our game. They’ll come knocking at our door, asking idiotic questions and wanting water and food. But if I can stop it all before it starts—”
He seemed to realize then what he was saying and whom he was saying it to. He stood, thrust the candle back into her hand and said, “Come on.”
“But why are we going farther in?” Mattie asked before she could stop herself. She cringed away as he leaned toward her.
“Because I said so. You listen to me now or you know what will happen.” His tone was all cold fury. He marched ahead and she followed, because she did know what would happen if she didn’t follow.
He’s angry because he explained too much. He’s angry because now I know that what he’s really afraid of is people. He doesn’t care about the creature in the woods or what it might do. He just doesn’t want anyone else to come looking for it and find us.
(No. Not us. Me. He doesn’t want anyone to find me.)
Before Mattie could explore that idea further, the stink, which she’d grown somewhat accustomed to, became abruptly unbearable. Then her boot found something round and slippery and she flew forward, crashing onto her elbows. The candles slipped from her hands and rolled away, their meager light winking out.
“Clumsy idiot,” William said. She heard him fumbling in his pockets for another candle and matches.
The darkness was too close, pressing all around her, making it impossible to breathe. There was something under her, several somethings, things that poked at her at odd angles and clacked together like beads.
Bones. The word streaked across her brain like a panicky firefly. She scrambled back and away, swiping desperately at the front of her coat to make sure nothing had stuck.
William struck the match and for a moment all she saw was his face illuminated by the lit match head. Then the candlewick caught. William lifted the candle high, and Mattie shrank away from what the light showed.
They were in a large chamber, the ceiling several feet higher than the passage, and stacked all around the walls were piles of bones. The bones were enough to send Mattie fleeing but she didn’t dare, as William went closer with the candle, muttering, “What in God’s name?”
She saw then that the parts were sorted—skulls in one place, ribs in
