Slow, slow, she told herself. She had to cross the stream, and she couldn’t see well enough to pick out dry rocks to hop on—not that she had the agility at the moment to do so in any case.
There was nothing for it. She’d have to wade through and hope it was shallow enough that only her boots would get wet.
Mattie flinched as she splashed into the water. Every sound seemed magnified a thousandfold, designed to draw the attention of the very creature she wanted to avoid. There was every chance the animal was still nearby. It might have woken only a moment before she did.
Freezing water seeped through the tongues of her boots and over the tops, soaking her heavy knitted socks. Mattie never did such a good job with her own socks as she did with William’s, for it was a chore that she greatly disliked. As a result there were a great many loose holes for the water to pour through and chill her bare skin. By the time Mattie reached the opposite shore she was shivering all over and couldn’t feel her feet. She still didn’t feel entirely sturdy on her legs, either. They wobbled uncontrollably with each step, the steps of a baby toddling for the first time, not the steps of a grown woman.
Mattie climbed the bank, using her hands to steady herself as best she could, scrabbling in the snow. After what seemed like a very long time, she made it to the top. She was on the same side with the deer path that would lead home.
Home. Not my home. William’s home.
She trudged forward, hardly able to lift her feet. They felt like two heavy blocks of ice attached to her ankles. It was even darker under the trees, with the moon still hidden by the clouds and the branches crouching over the path like giants’ arms.
They might grab me up and take me away, take me to a place far from here. She knew she was on the verge of hysteria, that exhaustion and terror and pain had sapped her so that she didn’t know how to think in a straight line.
All that nonsense about Samantha. That’s a fantasy, a dream. There is no Samantha. There’s only Martha.
Her left eye throbbed. There was a faint buzzing in her ears and just under it she heard the crunch of her footsteps in the snow and her own labored breath.
A branch broke nearby, the crack of wood as startling as thunder.
Mattie stopped, listening hard, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself from exhaling.
It’s out there, she thought, and there was no doubt, no attempt to convince herself that it was a deer or a squirrel. The sound came from the creature. She knew it with every terrified beat of her own heart.
She peered into the trees, trying to detect any shape that wasn’t a tall, slim tree trunk, but it was hard to see anything properly with only one eye.
It could stand right next to me and I wouldn’t know. I’d never see it until I turned my head.
Mattie didn’t move for several moments. There was no other sound so she cautiously started forward again, trying to make less noise. She was conscious of every rustle of clothing, the swipe of her long braid against the back of her coat, the squeak of her leather boots, the rough exhale of her breath.
Something else was breathing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mattie stopped again, terror making her whole mouth numb. This time she heard the sound of its claws against the snow for just a half second before it, too, paused.
It’s stalking me.
Panic bloomed inside her. Sweat trickled over her ears.
It’s stalking me. It’s playing with me.
Mattie had no doubt that an animal that large could kill her with one disinterested swipe. It had no need to hunt her.
Unless it wants me to be afraid first.
But it was impossible that an animal would think like that, or that an animal could really even think.
Only humans enjoy the fear of others, Mattie, don’t be stupid. It’s only being cautious, the way predators will be, making certain of their prey before they strike. You need to get away before it does.
But how? She didn’t know exactly how far she was from the cabin. The path to the stream and the traps from the front door normally took about a half hour or so round trip, but she wasn’t going at anything near her normal walking pace. The cabin couldn’t be too far from where she stood, but would she reach it in time? Would the creature allow her to get that far?
Just walk forward. Just move forward and try. If it attacks then you can . . . what? What can you do against a thing that size? You can’t even stop William.
She stifled a crazy laugh, the kind of laugh that only emerged when a person was at the end of their rope.
You won’t be able to stop it if it attacks.
(but I don’t want to die)
That stiffened her spine, because it was comforting to realize that despite everything, she didn’t want to give up and die right there. She still wanted to live, no matter how painful life was, no matter how much God had forsaken her.
Mattie moved forward again. Now that she knew the creature was near, she heard its subtle movements, the way it carefully mirrored her pace.
It’s not a normal animal. It’s not natural.
The creature was on her left side, the blind side. If she turned her head she might catch a glimpse of its shape out of her right eye but she didn’t need to see it to know it was there.
She felt it, felt the way it disturbed the air between them, felt
