Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Within the span of a month, Nat’s dad had died - partially her fault - and her soccer team’s plane had crashed in seemingly the middle of nowhere - probably somehow also her fault. She had planned to stick with the team and head to nationals, even after ‘the accident’ in hopes of distracting herself… and getting away from the police, but apparently her misfortune followed her and this is a bit more than she bargained for. 

I guess she doesn’t have to worry about getting a summer job anymore.

≫------»

Natalie is awake and the plane is hurdling at hundreds of miles towards the earth, with her in it of course. Natalie is awake and was in fact, never asleep, because Natalie Scatorccio is terrified of planes. This is partially on account of her having never been on one prior to this. Great introduction . 

So they’re probably not winning nationals after all. 

Her nails dig into the arm rest and her head throbs, she thinks it may be due to the fact that her stomach is now lodged next to her brain and there’s just not that much space in her skull. Even with the current location of her organs, she’s pretty sure she’s about to throw up. She scrabbles for the mask now hanging inches above her head, sliding it over her face and tightening the strap during the moments of lesser turbulence when she isn’t gripping the seat for dear life. Her heart is beating out of her chest, reverberating through her already crammed skull and contending with the volume of the engines. Her face is hot and her legs are numb. Tears and sweat pool around the seal of her mask and she briefly wonders if she has asthma because she cannot fucking breath, even with the thing on. It must be doing something though because she sees it inflate one or two times before getting thrown forward, the seat belt cutting into her stomach in a way that sends a sharp pain up her sternum just before her vision goes black and she is plunged into the darkness.

So maybe she can sleep on planes after all. 

≫------»

She wakes up coughing. Flames climb up from the back of the plane, licking at her boots. Her chest feels heavy, it’d be fucking ironic if smoke is what did her in. She wastes no time debating her death, she’s not so eager to reconnect with dear old dad. She rips the mask off of her face and starts struggling with her seatbelt. The metal burns, but she grits her teeth against the pain. No one rushes to her aid, but it’s not like she’s new to saving herself. 

Once she is free she bolts for the nearest exit but the numbness in her legs shoots up to her hips and she stumbles, collapsing into the aisle. Determined, she drags herself forward, eventually getting a knee then a foot under her and staggers to the emergency exit, using the chairs as support. The exit door is already torn off its hinges and she all but rolls out, landing on a bed of pine needles and ash. 

It’s chaos outside, girls screaming, some are crying, some have stoic expressions, hiding their fear in favor of helping the others. The scene is a little too familiar and she finds herself fading. Aimlessly floating between groups, not really gathering what they say to her, if they say anything. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. 

Slowly, she returns to herself, to reality. Her ears stop ringing and her vision focuses and she’s just standing there, a teenage girl, a burnout really, next to a massive pile of what is now mere scrap metal. There's also fire, a lot of it, some spare luggage scattered here and there, and a few bodies. Great. Just another day in her cursed fucking existence, sucks for everyone else that they got dragged into it. 

And she’s pissed - because even if she deserved this, they certainly didn’t.

≫------»

Okay, maybe Travis deserved it. Who the fuck lets their little brother run into a burning, falling apart, piece of shit plane without so much as a flinch?! 

≫------»

Lottie

Before vision, before smell or hearing or taste, Lottie feels. She feels hands in her own, fingers grasping at her own. She desperately mirrors the action, clinging to the lifeline anchoring her to the earth, to her seat. Next she tastes metal, hears terror; maybe the rapture came early and Laura Lee was wrong about its peaceful nature. Lottie always had a feeling her kind wouldn’t be welcomed past the pearly gates. 

But that’s not the case after all, because her next comes her vision and the hand tangled in her own is Laura Lee’s and God would never destroy the planet with his best still on it. Every sound is amplified and every movement in her peripherals sends a sharp pain up her spine, making its home in the base of her skull in the form of a raging migraine. She’s focused on everything at once and somehow nothing - none of it makes sense, there is no big picture. She can’t hear her own thoughts and she can’t process a single thing she hears or sees. 

Fuck having heightened senses. 

One voice she recognizes amidst the cries. It’s close to her ear, just a little louder than the rest. “Lottie, we have to go.” 

And she sounds so sure, the fear is easily concealed by her resolve. Certain that she will be protected by her faith. Lottie believes her. For a second, it’s all Lottie hears. She wants to wrap herself in that voice, hide from the reality outside of their row. Hide from the hellfire berating her senses. But she can’t, because the hellfire is no longer just metaphorical. The hair on the backs of her arms and neck have started to singe and she feels as though she’s getting sunburned and boiled from the inside out simultaneously. The veil of her friend’s voice is fading, the hyper-awareness taking its place once more. She has to get out of this plane. She has to get Laura Lee out of this plane. 

So they’re on their feet, running down the aisle and tripping over stray scraps of metal and fallen luggage, smoke filling their lungs as the plane shifts and creaks under their every step. Tai and Misty are at the exit door, pushing on it frantically and screaming for help. Lottie slams into the door behind them, feet sliding as she heaves against the metal as it rapidly rises in temperature. It whines and shifts under the added weight and a moment later bursts free from its hinges, the girls tumbling out in a conglomerated heep. The air is crisp and relatively free of smoke compared to inside the metal tube. Lottie feels her senses relax as she gulps it down. 

≫------»

Hours pass and a familiarity settles about Lottie. The sun has begun to set and there’s an eerie buzz in the air, like the trees are alive, spreading the good news of their arrival. It’s off-putting and wrong, but it almost feels like they’re welcoming her home. Just as the thought settles uncomfortably in her mind, a familiar smell wafts past. Her stomach shifts and her throat tightens. 

That’s when the realization hits her. She’s hungry .

The lurch in her stomach had been caused by Misty moving Coach Ben closer to the fire Lottie is kneeling in front of. The smell of fresh blood wafts off of him, washing over her relentlessly. The movement must’ve reopened the wound - if it ever stopped bleeding.

Her eyes grow wide and she stands abruptly, backpack in hand. Thank god it was one of the luggage items salvageable from the crash, far enough from the flames to be collected, mostly unscorched, once they were put out. Scanning her surroundings, it seems like most of the girls are either distracted treating each other's wounds or going through supplies, so she easily slips past to the corner of the clearing.

She rifles through her scorched bag, her fingers find the cool plastic of the ziplock bag she packed just this morning. Her heart drops. As she lifts the bag just enough to get a glimpse she sees deep red liquid- there shouldn’t be liquid. It fills the bag and drips out of the seal at one end. Some of her pills must have burst in the crash.

She’s going to starve. 

The reality should hit harder than it does, but the sweet metallic smell has reached her nose and fills her throat. It’s intoxicating and she hasn’t eaten all day. Her head jolts up, eyes running over each survivor, ensuring their focus is elsewhere, before ducking her head to the bag puncturing the side, her fangs fully extended. 

She’s not used to feeding like this - normally she swallows the pills before they even have the chance to burst in her mouth, scared that she’ll become addicted to the taste, the smell, the way the liquid pools on her tongue and slides down the back of her throat. She could only imagine what it would feel like warm, fresh - 

She stops, pulling her fangs from the plastic and whipping her head back in disgust at her own thoughts. She cuts her lip in the process and a single drop slides down her chin. She swallows the urge to swipe her tongue over it - not like her own blood would do much for her hunger - and wipes her mouth on her arm instead. 

In a more stable state of mind, Lottie peers down at the plastic bag, the remaining pills visible now that the liquid has been… removed. 

There’s enough for two days. She always packs extra, especially for competitions with the extra exertion they bring. But with the ones that had broken open, this is all that’s left. She curses herself under her breath for indulging, maybe it would have lasted longer if she hadn’t. She knows that’s not true, it would have congealed and made the whole batch useless. 

Sighing, Lottie wads up the bag and stuffs it to the bottom of her bag, shifting her clothing and toiletries to conceal it. The blood that leaked out has already soaked into the fabric at the bottom. The others will just assume it's from the crash, only she can smell the difference anyways. She slides on her fuzzy jacket and pulls up the hood, not because she is cold - her meal warmed her stomach and flushed her cheeks - but to shelter her from the ever-seeing pines. Their branches shift and sway above her, the rustling of their leaves telling stories of all she keeps hidden. She has no secrets here. Not with them.

≫------»

Nat

The next morning they spend digging graves. Sheets of scrap metal from the crash are used to loosen the soil and their teammates are laid gently down into the very earth that stole the breath from their lungs. 

They hold hands and pray. Nat isn’t much for religion, whether people pray or not, death finds them anyways. And yet her eyes are screwed shut anyways because she fucking hopes there’s something out there that might take pity on her and just for once - cut her some damn slack. Or at least her teammates… they’re innocent. 

She doesn’t catch all of what Laura Lee says, but she’s catches the phrase “the valley of the shadow of death” more than once. It flutters through her chest and to the base of her stomach, light as a feather. When it lands it’s a rock. Heavy and uncomfortable, knocking around in her gut, settling somewhere between her liver and large intestine, making itself right at home. She has a discomforting feeling they’ll be getting familiar with each other. 

≫------»

Three days pass and she knows her prayers were ignored. No one is coming to save them, her luck. 

Or so she thinks until Taissa bursts through the treeline, nearly tripping over her in feet in - excitement? “There’s a lake!” 

It’s no rescue helicopter, but its something. And as appealing as camping next to their fallen teammate’s burial site for the unforeseeable future sounds, the allure of fresh water wins. 

And god was it the right decision. 

The water is fucking freezing , but after three days with no shower and trying to manually scrape off the dried blood and grime from under their nails and skin, nothing could be more refreshing. Natalie finds herself stripping off her clothes and running in without a second thought, her chest feeling almost light… giddy even. The weight of their situation lifts off her shoulders for just a moment as she wades out, stumbling multiple times due to her excitement. The cool waves lap at her thighs and finds herself giggling at the sensation - actually giggling - maybe she’s hysterical. 

“Oh my god - Scatorccio are you actually laughing right now?” Van, of course. 

“I can enjoy myself from time to time” Natalie splashes at her in retaliation. Van’s smile only spreads, then shifts into what can only be described as sinister.  

“Oh… you wanna play that game, huh?” and suddenly Natalie is drenched. I guess she’s clean now. You’d think Van was hiding a bucket with how efficient she is at cascading entire fucking waterfalls around. 

But Nat isn’t mad - some water definitely got up her nose and she sputters and coughs for the next few minutes, swearing to get Van back for her crimes, but deep down she’s grateful for it. It had seemed like everyone was trying to one-up her tragic character, walking around looking at their feet or shielding their emotions with stern expressions - which really isn’t fair to her, that’s her brand. It’s good to see Van back to her normal, slightly annoying, self.  

She finds herself perched atop Van’s shoulders not long after, having followed Van to deeper waters after she had called out “ Chicken fight! ” and grabbed her arm. 

When Shauna climbs up to face her she knows she’s gonna be back in the depths shortly. 

“Natalie.” She greets, polite, yet a smirk hides painfully obviously behind her tight-lipped smile. 

“Shauna…” 

With a glance towards Jackie on the shore, who quickly breaks eye contact, turning away to giggle about something with Mari, Shauna’s shoulders tense and her grip tightens on Natalie’s hands. 

“GO!” Van bellows. 

It doesn’t take long for cold water to be up her nose, again , as she’s nearly catapulted off Van’s shoulders. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Van had actually let go, but Nat is not so fortunate and she is left hanging from Van’s shoulder’s by her knees, head dunked thoroughly like she’s fucking apple-bobbing on Halloween. 

“That’s it” She spits out lake water. 

“Switch.” 

Shauna’s grip is the same on her thighs as it was on her hands. Nat faces some JV girl now, it’s a little embarrassing to admit she doesn’t know her name - but not too embarrassing. 

She slides her fingers between the girls’ and risks a glance down at Van who has a look of pure determination painted across her face. Scary . 

This time Natalie has the upper hand and the other girl waivers, tilting back awkwardly. However, Van was not about to lose again. She pushes forward - which Nat isn’t even sure is allowed - and Shauna stumbles back head going under. And she’s falling backward again, fucking Shauna. 

Losing twice does not look great on her track record and her throat is starting to actually get sore from swallowing lake water. She shakes her head and waves Van off. “No more - you’re gonna have to find someone else to witch dunk.” But her smile betrays her tone. It’s hard to fake anger with the laughter of your teammates filling your ears like birdsong - especially after three days of its absence. 

She wades out a bit and after finally catching her breath, she notices Lottie. She’s just standing there, waist deep, back turned to her. The outline of her shoulder’s is slumped… She looks defeated. Unsurprising, but the water seemed to cheer everyone else up. Odd that the sentiment didn’t reach her. She looks like she’s staring, maybe at the horizon? Nat isn’t sure. 

She chooses to ignore her for now.

Instead Nat leans back into the water, letting the icy chill slide up her back. The prickling sensation shoots up her sine, settling comfortably around her skull. Waves of soothing numbness spread out from there, engulfing her body in a tranquil cocoon. It’s like she can finally feel again and can’t feel anything all at once - like there’s nothing else in the world besides the tingling across her skin. 

Apparently Lottie hadn’t just been staring at the treeline, because Nat is pulled from the icy darkness all too soon by the sound of her voice, alerting the others that she had noticed a reflection.

It was a cabin.

≫------»

The buzz along her spine and chill in her head doesn’t fade until that night. 

They had found an actual cabin, a chance. It was filled with winter clothes - which they desperately need this far north - and a Rifle. The site of it did not bring back pleasant memories but Natalie’s well aware that it will be key to their survival.

There was also a knife that Shauna had picked up quickly. Noted. 

And a corpse. Tai had found him in the attic and had flown down the ladder, looking like she was about ready to puke. He had looked… empty, cheeks sunken in and ribs protruding through his near vacuum-sealed pale skin. Or whatever of it he had left. 

It’s just the decomposition she tells herself, but she doesn’t really believe it. She’d seen too many bodies with sunken cheeks that are perfect reflections of these - fresher of course. They had buried him under pink and orange clouds as the sun retired beneath the treeline. Dirt making its home once again beneath their nail beds as they dug. 

When they settled in, spreading the blankets scrounged between the cabin and the salvaged luggage, Nat found herself between Shauna, Jackie, and Lottie. Shauna and Jackie weren’t really talking and she could feel the tension radiating off of the pair, it was incredibly uncomfortable and she could really use some comfort right now. Shauna was staring at Jackie who had fallen asleep pretty much immediately after laying down, that or she was faking it to avoid the look in Shauna’s eyes, both seemed equally as likely. They had been fighting since Shauna voted to leave the crash site - or well, Jackie had been ignoring Shauna and Shauna didn’t know how to handle it so she’d been trailing her like a lost puppy. God it made her sad just thinking about it. 

She ended up rolling over, trying desperately to create some distance from the scene, even if just by turning her back to it - and found herself nearly curled into Lottie because of it. The blankets aren’t nearly big enough for the girls to spread out, after all. That’s when the buzzing faded and the chill thawed. 

Lottie is warm, like really warm. Not in a way that burns, but in a way that you’d want to stuff your hands under her shirt to heat them up when it’s snowing out. Her faint snores match the steady rise and fall of her chest , but her face is contorted -  brows knit together tightly. It seems so out of place with her breathing. 

With the confirmation that Lottie is asleep, Natalie lets herself stay curled into the brunette’s side, sucking up the heat that attempts to leave Lottie’s body and escape the blanket. It’d be a crime to let such precious body heat be lost at a time like this, right? 

She drift’s off - breath slowing to eventually match Lottie’s. Her eyes closed involuntarily as the exhaustion works its way into her shoulders and her mind is dragged deep under the floorboards, to a place where there is only darkness, soil, and the occasional tree root. It’s comforting, even if just for a moment. 

≫------»

Cushioned luxury seats and the feeling of falling at speeds that are definitely not disney-land approved meet her in her dreams. 

Her eyes snap open - they feel like they may bulge out of her head. No- not again I can’t fucking do this again. 

Her throat itches and a thick heat rises from her stomach and rests right behind her tongue. Hot tears well up in her eyes and she blinks repeatedly, hoping - praying - she might wake up. Because asking god for help has always worked out so well.  

The engine roars in her ears, it’s distorted, wrong . 

She finds herself grabbing for anything nearby in hopes of steadying herself, grounding herself. She finds an arm on the rest beside her. It comes as a surprise, she doesn’t hear any yelling or crying this time, she had assumed she was alone. 

Her head snaps up to follow the arm to a shoulder, then a face. It’s her dad. Of course. 

His head is on wrong, neck twisted at an angle that no human’s head should be twisted at. He’s smiling at her, it’s upside down and crooked - maybe he’s actually frowning, she isn’t sure. 

But his eyes feel like daggers right to her insides and she feels her throat close up, trapping the heat that had been rising in it previously. 

“... dad?” she manages to choke out. 

“I don’t know what you’re so scared of, Natty.You’ve already got blood on your hands.” 

The familiar chill of metal slides beneath the pads of her fingers. She knows before she sees it - a shotgun. Her dad’s shotgun.

“We’re almost there. It’s been waiting for us”

She wakes up in a sweat. 

She can hardly catch her breath and the warmth she craved just hours ago now seems like a curse. She struggles with the blanket, it’s wrapped around her arms, her legs, her neck. She can’t fucking get out and she feels like she might suffocate. She kicks at it before finally freeing an arm and pulling the cloth down from her chest. Cool air rushes in and chill runs along her arms, goosebumps rising in its wake. 

And finally, she breathes. 

Her mind calms and she does what she had been trying to do all night - she grounds herself. Her dream wasn’t real, her subconscious had imagined it up to fuck with her. Well, parts of it. 

When the pounding in her ears resides and the rise and fall of her chest returns to a normal enough pace she notices Lottie. Sitting up, but not facing her. She seemed to not notice Natalie’s panic. Good, that would’ve been embarrassing. 

But she’s sitting straight-backed, just staring at the dark opening in the ceiling that leads to the attic. A black hole, its presence ever-growing. A pang of empathy twists in Nat’s gut at the sight. She should have said something hours ago, back at the lake. She crawls forward to her, now, concern painting her face. 

“It’s okay.” She tries to lace as much comfort into her tone as possible, but it comes out shaky. She hardly sounds like she believes it herself - she doesn’t.  

Lottie doesn’t so much as blink in response. 

“He’s gone. Remember? We buried him.”

She shifts a little now, tilting her head towards Nat but she never fully breaks eye contact with the ladder. She never meets Nat’s gaze. 

“I think bad things happened here.” 

It’s a statement - so quiet Nat almost misses it. As soon as the words reach the open air, Lottie turns around and lays back down, facing away from Nat. As Lottie’s face hits the pillow the words hit the bottom of Natalie’s stomach. They’re heavy and uncomfortable and she finds herself sitting there now - in Lottie’s place - unmoving. Slowly she forces her gaze up, rung by rung to the hole in the ceiling. She feels it too, bad things did happen here. She’s sure of it. 

Her breath catches in her throat and her blood runs cold. She purses her lips and forces down the hot spit that had been building on the back of her tongue, eyes darting back to the floor. Whatever happened here… It’s none of her concern for now, they’re safe here.

Chapter Text

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that - not that she really wanted to after what had waited for her last time. Instead, she tossed and turned, replaying what both her nearly decapitated father and Lottie had said. That rock still sat between her organs, scratching at her insides every time she shifted or rolled over. The attic seemed to have gained sentience on top of that; its presence impossible to ignore - even with her back turned. 

Eventually, she gives up on the idea of being well-rested and decides to go for a walk, maybe it’ll clear her head, who knows. The sky is that pale gray hue right before the early morning light touches the horizon. The morning air is crisp - definitely crisper than inside the cabin. She’s pretty sure that place hasn’t been dusted in the last century. 

She sits out there for the better half of the morning, picking at sprigs of grass and watching colors she hadn’t known existed slowly make their journey across the sky, followed by the same comforting blue that she knows would meet her gaze if she were looking up from Seattle or home, in Wiskayok. 

Eventually, she must’ve passed out because as she comes too she hears sharp voices - arguing about something - they’re slurred and made soft by her dreary state. It feels like home, waking up delirious to the sounds of fighting - shouting or banging. She sinks into the feeling, it twists in her gut and her eyebrows furrow, but in a way… it’s peaceful. There is a certain stability in what is known.

The idea that she’s home with her fucked up family, her father with his head properly on his shoulders and her mother sleeping on the couch, is far more palatable than her current situation. 

A shot rings out, cracking her skull in half and effectively jolting her from her daze. Her eyes flare open with the urgency of an animal displaying a fight or flight response. It sounds like it’s next to her ear, it feels like she was the one shot, her fingers tremble and she’s out of breath. She may have given herself whiplash from how fast her head snapped up, she can already feel the muscles in her neck stiffening around her spine - great, like the wooden floorboards weren’t hard enough on her back . She shakes it off.

Nat doesn’t let herself freeze this time; she’s up and barreling around the corner of the cabin to the porch. And of course, it’s Travis. Rifle in hand, Van standing in front of him with her hands up in surrender, like she was next. 

“What the hell?!” Nat’s just about ready to grab the nearest rock and hit Travis in the back of the head with it when she notices the torn bark and bullet-shaped hole in the pine behind Van, not in her. Still definitely doesn’t follow firearm safety guidelines…

She finds herself stepping back, instead. No one is injured - even if Van came close - she doesn’t need to escalate. Plus the gun still sits threateningly in the grasp of a boy who's just lost everything and she really doesn’t need to be in the middle of a situation like that again. 

Luckily, Misty appears in the doorway a moment later, Coach Scott hobbling after. He looks annoyed more than anything - it is too early for this to be fair. “Travis. Give me the gun.” He’s stern but calm . Natalie feels a twinge of respect in her chest. It almost conceals the sour twist of jealousy in her gut. 

Travis hands the gun over with a grunt, refusing to make eye contact. Coach empties the mag quickly, though not effortlessly, gritting his teeth against the pain Nat knows is searing up his leg. After giving the expected general safety spiel, he says what they’re all thinking; they’re going to have to start hunting for food. Shauna’s brows knit together with… worry? Odd, she seems like the type to want to shoot things. Conversely, a grin lights up Mari’s face, which is strangely in character. Many of the other girls' faces fall -  the statement alone is proof enough that they’re on their own. No one is coming to save them. Jackie’s jaw is tight and her lips are sealed in a thin line, giving nothing away, but her eyes reflect her fears ineffably. She doesn’t believe they’ll survive on their own. It’s obvious.

A different fear falls on Natalie. She knows how to shoot, she knows how to hunt - maybe a little too well. She can save them. That expectation is almost more horrifying than the prospect of starvation.

≫------»

A coin. That’s what her success will be judged on. If she fails, she won’t be in possession of the rifle, and whoever will either won’t be as knowledgeable or skilled as her - or they’re Travis - who is probably neither and also is probably a threat to everyone else if in possession of a firearm. 

She won’t lie, it’s a smart idea. If the coin doesn’t budge, your hands are steady. It’s not like they have endless bullets -  every shot counts, so steady hands are sort of the end all be all. If you miss while actually hunting you go hungry. Everyone goes hungry.   

Misty acts as an aid, positioning the coin on the barrel for each team member when it’s their turn. It’s almost like soccer try-outs, if the soccer ball was a dusty old rifle, the goal was a deer, and the opposing team was fucking nature. 

Tai fails, Jackie fails - basically before she even began, and then it’s Travis’s turn. With each failure Nat’s fingers shake more. With each failure she digs her nails into her palms harder, white-knuckling them until the shaking stops. Travis strolls forward with far too much confidence for someone who's never hit an intended target. He scoffs as Jackie hands off the weapon, which she apparently chooses to ignore.

“Uh, yo Javi! Come try this.” It’s cruel. It’s not an invitation, it’s a tease. 

The boy stands abruptly and begins to walk towards his older brother, but turns curtly away “Fuck you.” His eyes never leave the floor as he storms off. 

Now her hands shake with more than just her anxiety. Javi doesn’t deserve that, he’s going through the same fucking thing as Travis, why the hell can’t he see that?! Travis only rolls his eyes and positions the butt of the rifle between where his shoulder and arm meet. He barely spares Misty a glance as he alerts her that he’s ready for the coin to be placed. Even with all of his overexaggerated quips at the others, he isn’t entirely wrong to be confident. His stance isn’t perfect, but it’s sturdy and his hands are steady. She wonders if his dad ever took him shooting, or maybe he’d had a gun in the house Travis would practice with when backs were turned. 

The coin doesn’t fall. It sits pretty on the tip of the barrel, waiting for bullets to be loaded - unmoving. “And that ladies, is how it’s done.” He smirks and Nat’s eyes almost roll back into her skull. God, he’s such a prick. Multiple middle fingers meet his comment, confirming that everyone is pretty fed up with his bullshit. Van’s laughing at him and Lottie’s face contorts a bit. 

Before she can join in making fun of him the words she had been dreading reach her ears.“Nat, you’re up.” 

She shouldn’t be nearly as concerned about succeeding now that Travis’ attempt went well, but the thought of her team relying on him for food - or even just the thought of him being in sole possession of the rifle - rubbed her the wrong way. She should be able to do this, she’s got more experience than anyone here. It’s only been a month or so since she nuzzled a similar wooden stock into her shoulder. 

Misty places the coin on the barrel. Her hands feel sweaty and her grip feels all wrong. The stock sits awkwardly against her body and the barrel stretches to eternity in front of her. She can’t see the thin pines of the wilderness at the end of the barrel. Instead, she sees the gnarled trunks of oak trees. She sees her father and a boy - no, not a boy - a monster. She sees her own fear reflected in wide eyes. The coin drops. 

«------≪

It’s the middle of the night when her door slams open, nearly tearing off its hinges. “We’ve got a hit. Get up.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, he never does. This is typical - information getting reported in the middle of the night, Nat’s dad ready to leave in minutes, hoping to beat any other hunters in the area. She was either ready or she wasn’t, and it was never good for her when she wasn't. So, she throws on whatever clothes on the floor were nearest to her, not bothering to check if they were clean or worn, grabs the stake and a few knives stored under her bed, and runs after her father. He’s got the shotgun slung across his shoulder and a serious expression plastered across his face, she should’ve been faster. 

All of their weapons are blessed so they can actually inflict some damage, but their supplies are limited since they’ve lived paycheck-to-paycheck, kill-to-kill for as long as Natalie can remember. It’s been bleak as of late, but her dad has been following some kind of trail. He’s sure it's going to pay out. There’s been Rumors of old-blooded vampires circulating recently, the kind that have enough presence to claw their way to the top of not only the fanged world but the mortal one, as well. Centuries of experience making it easy for them to hide in plain sight, at the top of the food chain. That’s why they’re here, in Wiskayok of all places. He’s convinced it’s some kind of secret vampire country.

“Reports say someone was found downed at some high school party, pale and drained. Whoever did it is an amateur, was spotted running into the woods off Hudson.”

“So probably not part of the family we’ve been chasing?” His eyebrow twinges and his jaw tightens in response, repositioning the shoulder strap as he opens the door to their rusted-over pickup. Wrong question. 

“Do the police suspect murder..?” She tries instead as she slides into the passenger seat.

“No. Alcohol poisoning, of course.” He snorts, slamming the door and turning the key in the ignition. 

She nods. It's probably best to not ask any more questions. 

She’s been coming on these excursions for nearly as long as she can remember. Even when she couldn’t offer assistance, her dad made sure she at least watched the kill - grew numb to the feeling of watching something die. He needed her to be prepared for when she was old enough to actually carry a shotgun, strong enough to push a stake through a ribcage and be face to face with the consequences as the life fades from her victim’s eyes. 

Since Nat turned eighteen, she’s joined every hunt. Sometimes she helps chase them down and corner them, sometimes she just carries the weaponry, her father claiming she’ll only get in the way. Fair, she thinks. Usually, the hunts aren’t in Wiskayok though, unsurprisingly this hidden “vampire gold mine”, or whatever her dad is calling it currently, has yielded no return. He still refuses to give up on it, though. They’ve stayed put long enough for her to get acquainted with her classmates for once, even if she usually cuts. Longer enough for her to get recruited for the soccer team. So whenever an odd report comes up on a police radio frequency, miles and miles away, Natalie goes on a trip. It doesn’t matter if she falls behind in school or misses soccer practice, one of the only things she’s grown to appreciate about this town. Tonight, however, is big. This time the report is from Wiskayok’s frequency. It means more to her father than he lets on. 

The car rumbles to a stop. He doesn’t bother telling her ‘We’re here,’ she already knows. 

The next thing she knows, she’s running. A mile or so into the woods her father had caught sight of the bloodsucker and they were off. The wind rips through her hair and the cold air sears through her nose and throat, her eyes sting and water but she blinks it away. Her heart pounds in her chest, the rhythm seeping into the farthest reaches of her body and urging her on. She has to keep up with her father or she will be left behind and pay for it later. 

That’s when things get fucked. 

Her father halts, one hand raised, signaling Nat to follow suit. She does her best to quiet her breathing so he can listen, but it’s not easy when she can’t even catch her breath. The air is stagnant, that feeling right before the hurricane destroys all that you hold dear. It feels wrong, like even the forest knows the two are royally fucked. Her fingers twitch with anticipation and the hair on the back of her neck rises, they’re not alone. 

She hardly has time to blink before the vampire is behind her dad, claws to his neck and fangs bared. Her heart drops. 

That’s when she notices the shotgun, no longer in her father's hands but skewed across the floor. “Natalie, get the fucking gun!” Her dad yells, snapping her out of her panicked daze. She dashes forward, grabbing the gun before the fiend can register the danger. 

Natalie looks up now, and a wave of shock runs through her. It’s young, maybe a few years older than her at most. She’s learned from years of hunting that she has to view her victims as ‘it’ to stay sane - it’s a fine line that separates what they are from human. But it… looks very human. More than that though, it looks terrified. A glossy sheen covers its eyes, glinting under the thin shafts of light that make their way through the nighttime canopy. Natalie almost thinks she recognizes a flash of guilt behind its eyes. She usually just kills monsters… ones that don’t look like her. Vampires are good at hiding typically so they’re pretty rare, and she’s never had to kill one so young. The eyes of a prey animal stare back at her. A deer frozen in the road, framed by the headlights of Natalie’s barrel. It seems just as likely to turn heel and run as it is to snap her father's neck. Not that Nat hadn’t killed prey animals before - she recognized the fear in its eyes better than she recognized the backs of her own hands. Before aiding during these hunts, her father had her practice on animals, easier targets. But this… this was different. It's hard to pull the trigger without thinking twice when you see yourself looking back at you. 

Her dad is yelling, she can’t make out what he’s saying but she knows she has to make a move. Now . 

Her fingers slide on the cool metal and she shakes under the weight of the shotgun. It was never this heavy during practice. She can’t keep her grip and she can’t fucking see, sweat stinging her eyes and blurring her vision. Just sweat. 

She widens her stance and lifts the barrel, just making out her father’s last sentence. “ Natalie! Fucking shoot!” 

The shot rings out and with it, a searing pain rips through her skull. It’s hard to make out what happens next, but when her eyes refocus there’s a mass on the ground. She drags herself forward, clawing through the dirt. She must have fallen to the ground at some point. She’s completely disoriented, her ears ring, blocking out any external sound. Every time a new wave of pain flashes behind her eyes, her vision goes white. This shouldn't be happening - she’s shot before… she’s shot vampires before, it’s not like this is a new thing to her. 

As she gets closer, her vision begins to clear. The indistinguishable shape morphs into two  disfigured bodies. She chokes out a sob as the realization sets in. 

She was too late.

Her cheeks feel sticky and her vision blurs again, this time undoubtedly with tears. Her nails dig into the flesh of the closer, more familiar, body. Its neck is bent at an odd angle. His neck. It doesn’t look right - that’s not how a head is supposed to connect to shoulders. It’s not right. 

She’s on top of him now. He’s lifeless, already growing cold beneath her. She could scratch at the floor around him, try to prevent the heat from escaping, keep what little life may be left close to his body. It’d be pointless. 

She can vaguely tell she’s shaking, from fear or guilt or rage she’s not sure, but a numbness has settled over the external parts of her body, overpowered by the weight in her chest and the pounding behind her eyes. It’s impossible to discern if the pounding is a migraine or merely the intensity of her heartbeat, they seem to be one in the same.

And she’s clawing, not at the floor around her father, but at him. Mutilating what remains, tearing at the flesh as it finds its way beneath her nails. This isn’t my fault, this isn’t my fucking fault , she thinks, or screams. With how raw her throat is, she could hardly tell the difference. Why did you put this on me?! I didn’t even want to be here. She’s vaguely aware that she should be on top of the other body, destroying what remains of her sworn enemy, her fathers killer, but it lays limp beside her; untouched, unbothered… peaceful, besides the shotgun-sized hole in its head, of course. I guess she got it after all, if only her reaction hadn’t been a moment too slow. 

Now that it’s face is expressionless, free of fear or pain, it appears young – innocent really. 

After an indiscernible amount of time, Nat stills. The ringing has faded and exhaustion begins to set in. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, her chest relaxing and shoulders slumping in defeat. She slides off of what was only a few minutes ago - or hours, she isn’t quite sure - her father, rolling onto the floor. 

She feels like there’s no air left in the world - all of it was sucked out into space the second her father hit the floor. With her last exhale she released what little was left. She feels empty. 

He doesn’t deserve this kind of reaction, she knows. It’s not like he earned it or anything, he was always a shit father, but she can’t exactly improve her coping mechanisms in one night. She’ll probably get high later, smoke or drink until she forgets this ever happened. Until she stops seeing the blood on her hands. But for now, she just lays there beside the two corpses, next in line for a doomed narrative. 

Eventually, Nat stands, stretches her arms, and looks down at the crime scene. She should feel sick, cover her mouth and nose, or run to hurl in the bushes. Instead, she feels nothing but the shake in her unsteady knees and the ache in her shoulders. Her eyes sting a bit, they’ll probably be all puffed up tomorrow. Whatever, she probably won’t go to school tomorrow anyways– she doesn’t know where she’ll go, certainly not home. She draws in a breath at last, feeling like the first she’s ever taken, and scans her surroundings. 

Two bodies, one smaller than the other - it looks almost as if it’s been preserved perfectly, like a sleeping child. A small entry hole is apparent just above its right eyebrow, the exit wound concealed against the dirt. Blood is pooled around its head like a halo, strands of hair stick to its pale neck and cheeks, framing its face like some kind of renaissance painting and its skin glows faintly in the pale moonlight. It looks so human , its blood nearly the same shade of crimson as the blood drying under her fingernails. She skims over what remains of her father, instead focusing on the shotgun a few feet away. She should pick it up, she should hide it somewhere only she knows… but the thought of the steel beneath her fingertips makes her feel sick. She swallows hard and turns away.

That’s when she starts walking. 

She’s acutely aware of the burn in her legs and the sting of cold air across her cheeks and nose. She chooses to put all her focus there, so she isn’t aware of much else. The trees shift past by the twenties, trunk after trunk until they blur together. She doesn’t know how long she walks or where she’s going but when she looks up she sees a silhouette. It feels familiar, almost like she’s been here before in a dream or something. Against her best interest, nostalgia pulls her in as she approaches. Something clicks in her brain as the figure comes into focus.

“Lottie..?” 

God her voice sounds rough. 

The brunette stiffens and then glances up. She looks confused, if not a little sad. “Oh- um, Natalie? What are you doing out here…” She’s looking around now, trying to see if Natalie is alone, because why would she be in the middle of the woods by herself? Then again Lottie is, too. She’s sat on a fallen tree, slightly hunched over at first but now stiff, her posture perfect. She always seems to do that when she thinks people can see her, like a visible indication of her walls going up, probably some weird thing she picked up from her family. 

Nat realizes she hasn’t responded. “Um… I couldn’t sleep?” She tries weekly, it’s obvious she’s lying. The trailer park is miles away and Nat doesn’t have a car.

For a moment Lottie just stares, the eye contact is a little daunting, but Nat knows it’s not intended to be. Her gaze is analytical, like she’s trying to put together the puzzle that is Nat’s entire existence. But then she simply shrugs and scoots over, patting the spot beside her for Nat to sit. And she does, the unspoken promise that Lottie won’t push any further allows Nat to relax a bit, releasing some of the tension she had been storing in her shoulders. 

“So why are you out here?”

“Um, funny enough I’m hiding from my own party?” Lottie tilts her head back, smiling a little.

Nat pauses “I didn’t know you were having a party tonight.” Usually, the team would update her on this sort of thing, it stings a little to think they excluded her. Which is ironic because she basically just killed her dad, who gives a shit if she wasn’t invited to a party.

“Oh- no, not that kind of party. Like a family thing, they’re putting it on. It’s like for my 18th birthday or whatever, pretty boring.” She chuckles softly, but she looks a little nervous for some reason. Nat’s fingers tingle, she’s never seen Lottie’s family. Usually, her parents are out of the country on work trips and it’s pretty out of character for them to actually throw a party for her. She finds herself wondering what the party looks like, is it some type of black-tie occasion? Lottie does have a pretty nice dress on so maybe it’s something fancy. Who is there, just her parents? Probably not if she’s successfully hiding, maybe her extended family or the fucking royal family knowing what Lottie’s house looks like. She doesn’t ask though. 

“Oh um, happy birthday? Sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t know.” She fiddles with her fingers, absentmindedly picking the dried blood from beneath her fingernails. The realization strikes her that Lottie’s birthday is the same day as her father’s death day. Funny.

Lottie smiles, it's still small, and maybe a little forced but it feels more genuine than before. “Thanks, I never really like my birthday. My family always finds a way to ruin it.” And this time she actually laughs, a light breathy laugh. Now Nat is laughing too because what the actual fuck is she doing? Sitting on a log in the middle of the night in the woods with Lottie Matthews, right after hunting down a vampire and watching her father die. Well, and the vampire. “Same. I think our families kind of suck.” She shakes her head. 

They sit in silence like that for a while. Almost comfortable, if only not for the situation that brought them there. It’s a welcome distraction.

At some point, Lottie stands. “Well, I really should get back before my family puts out a search warrant.” Natalie just nods, her gaze unmoving, locked on the tree a few feet away. Her bubble was bound to pop eventually - she would have to go home and face her mom, face the police reports and school rumors. 

If only she had been more focused on Lottie, she would have noticed how stood silent, waiting for acknowledgment, for Natalie to ask her to stay or for the forest to light aflame, engulfing them both. Probably equally likely scenarios. Maybe she would have noticed how Lottie hesitated before shaking her head and smiling to herself, before she turned away from the log and Natalie and any hope of hiding from the world in the darkness of the woods, and disappeared into the treeline.

Instead, she noticed the sheen of sickly blue moonlight reflecting off the leaves of an otherwise dull oak tree. 

«------≪

She didn’t go to school the next day, or the day after. What she didn’t know is that Lottie Matthews didn’t either. 

Stranger still, no police showed up at Natalie’s door, and no one whispered when she walked the halls a week later. Apparently , both bodies, and the shotgun had disappeared overnight.

≫------»

She failed. 

She couldn’t get over her past, she couldn’t ground herself, just like then… Too slow, too unsteady, too weak . 

Her chest tightens and she can feel heat rising from her stomach. She purses her lips, urging the tears gathering in her eyes to dry before they break past her lashes - which would be fucking embarrassing. 

Travis isn’t helping her situation, mocking her while simultaneously fueling his own ego. “Next time we can just stick to something you’re good at… like folding laundry!” Basic “Or sucking d-” 

“ I’m going again. ” 

She doesn’t wait for a reply, stepping forward and snatching the gun back from Van, who was next in line. Travis is far too immature for everyone to rely on; it'd be a death sentence… and she needs to prove this to herself. She’s not who she was, but she can be . 

“I’ll allow it.” Coach states after a moment of thought. 

The coin is placed once more. She breathes out slowly through her nose, closing her eyes and steadying her hands. She can feel Travis looming over her shoulder, nitpicking everything she does, his hot breath billowing down her neck. She ignores it. She pulls the trigger.

A click.

Silence.

There is no muffled clink of metal hitting pine needles this time. The coin sits firmly on the barrel. The girls erupt into cheers and whoops. Most stand up and walk over to congratulate her or pat her on the back. They’re all at least a little relieved to see her prove Travis wrong, he’s sort of been an asshole to literally everyone. 

She not only proved him wrong, she proved herself wrong, her dad wrong - well kind of. She is enough, can be enough for them. They might just survive until winter. 

She still has to prove that she can aim, though - that part should be easy, her aim was, well, perfect last time she checked. That was never the issue. 

Target practice consists of tin cans lined up along a fallen tree, same as the one she sat on with not too long ago. They stand about fifty yards back and get five tries each. There are five cans so if you knock them all down you basically get a perfect score. Apparently, ammo isn’t a problem after all. Mari practically skips forward when her name is called to go first. She’s a little too eager to get her hands on the rifle again. Doesn’t mean she’s any good with it -  the bark splinters off the log just a few inches below her intended target. 

“The cans !” Travis jeers. “You’re aiming for the cans.” 

“SHUT UP!” She’s practically bristling. 

“Do you like being this way?” She finds herself deadpanning, does he get some kind of joy out of bringing others down to his level? Maybe if they hate themselves as much as he does it gives him some kind of fucked up solace.

“If you shit the bed again, you gonna ask for another do-over?” He’s got this kind of fo-concern plastered across his face. There’s a spark behind his eyes though, he’s trying to see if she’s willing to challenge him. Laying the bait, working his way under Nat’s skin. It reminds her of her father. It makes her stomach tense and her mouth sour.  

Mari misses again. Travis’ continued commentary definitely isn’t helping her focus. Does he somehow think that if others perform worse than him it makes him look better? All it does is increase the likelihood that they starve. 

On her third attempt, the bullet makes contact with the can, blowing it clean off the log and filling the clearing with a satisfying ping noise. Her shoulders loosen a bit and she hands the gun off to Travis without so much as a snarky reply. That must’ve taken almost as much effort as hitting the target. Mari strolls back to Akilah contently, who wraps an arm around her shoulder in congratulations - or maybe as support after all of Travis’s bullshit. 

Van quickly rights the fallen can for the next shooter and runs to the sidelines, planting her hands firmly over her ears. They’re probably all going to have some form of hearing damage. 

Travis is good. He hits can after can, hardly taking the time to catch his breath between rounds. He’s confident - too confident . The fourth shot misses. There is no ping , no sound of hollow aluminum hitting solid ground. Which means it’s her chance to get back at him. 

“So close, Flex.” It’s a nickname she’s heard murmured between girls in the halls, she’s not really sure what it means but it must hit close to home because suddenly there’s a barrel in her face. 

She’s not smiling now. 

“Don’t fucking call me that!” It’s said in her father’s voice. In fact, she’s pretty sure he’s standing at the other end of the rifle, looking down the barrel with the same contempt she sees behind his eyes when he cuts down blood-suckers. She sees it in Travis now - he hates her. 

He hits the fifth can without hesitation. 

The stock slides into her palm a moment later. “Don’t choke. Again .” He spits. The cans are realigned, waiting patiently for bullets to find their home in the metal. 

Natalie steadies her arms and lines the barrel up with the first can, aiming a little higher to account for drop. It’s not too windy right now so she should be alright on drift. She breathes in. Slowly, she releases her breath and closes her eyes. 

A click.

Ping .

The hollow clang of aluminum on pine needles. 

Again. She pulls forward the lever, releasing the empty shell and effectively reloading the weapon. Line up the barrel. Breath in. Release. 

Another hit. 

She repeats the process. She doesn’t look at her fingers, their placement. They know where to be, what to do. It’s muscle memory. Like clockwork, one by one the cans are blown off their mossy stage.

She’s broken from her trance by Coach Scott’s praise.

“ Holy shit .” He’s impressed? Right.. hitting every target isn’t the standard for most . It was always the expectation for her of course. Usually, kids have that issue with grades, those never mattered to her. What mattered was that she didn’t waste time or bullets. Time is valuable, it’s the difference between life and death. Literally. 

The ringing fades from her ears, replaced by clapping. She lets out the breath she had been holding and realizes she’s smiling. She didn’t choke, and she did better than Travis, and maybe now she can actually keep her team fed. Travis would probably end up reducing the number of hungry mouths his own way… it's better the rifle stays away from his grasp.

He doesn’t look pleased.

Chapter Text

Lottie is going to starve. It’s a hapless realization for her but also unsurprising, inevitable; she’s never been the most self-sufficient when it comes to feeding. God, she hates that word - feeding… It's so inhuman .

She stares at the empty plastic bag, dried blood crusting up the zipper, limp in her hands like a drained animal. Useless. Now she’s going to have to drain a real animal. The thought sends a shiver up her spine. It’s terrifying to realize she’s going to actually have to kill. It’s exhilarating. 

To be fair, everyone is hungry. Nat and Travis haven’t managed to bring anything back yet. Luckily Akilah seems to know a ton about wild plants and fungi from girl scouts, so the others aren’t entirely reliant on the hunters. A little unfair, seeing as Lottie was also in girl scouts when she was younger but all they did was make crafts and put on bake sales - and she couldn’t even eat any of it. It wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyways, Lottie can’t eat wild plants or fungi. Even if an animal was brought back, she’d have to sneak away with the blood bucket without anyone noticing, before it curdled. Still more appealing than sneaking out in the dead of night to eat - Rabbits? Rats? She shivers at the thought, or maybe she’s just shivering from the hunger. It’s been a week since her pills ran out and she can feel her body heat escaping through the thin blanket every night. Without fresh blood, vampires get weak, grow cold and stiff.

She stands up. She needs to just get over it and go find something to eat, so the less appealing option it is. Hunting shouldn’t be too hard to figure out - it’s like instincts or something, right? Her blanket pools around her socks and after a moment’s pause she drapes it over Natalie, who is ever so slightly shivering, her teeth chattering faintly. Heightened senses . It must be difficult spending the day with Travis, he isn’t exactly the easiest to get along with. 

She slides on her shoes and jacket and makes her way outside, quickly realizing that changing out of her pajamas would’ve been a good idea too. Every time she shifts the silk rubs together in a way that feels loud enough to wake the whole team, even from outside the cabin, and it’s definitely sending any nearby animals into hiding. Her feet drag in the dirt, rocks and sticks stub her toes. She doesn’t want to be out here. Maybe if she’s purposefully shit at this she won’t catch anything and she can just starve to death quietly - at least she could lie to herself and say she tried. 

The pines are stretching, bending above her, closing in and taunting her - no not taunting - mourning, then. They seem dreary, like the lignin in their trunks just isn’t enough to support their stature anymore, causing them to slump over instead. Pines aren’t supposed to look like that - they’re supposed to be thin straight spires right up to the heavens. These aren’t. 

Her shoe catches on a particularly large stone and this time she doesn’t find her footing. The trees halt their monotonous shifting across her peripherals as her body stops in its path. A new, more vertical path is chartered and she’s falling, right onto the aforementioned particularly large stone. Okay, that did hurt. 

She pulls her legs up underneath her one at a time and lets herself fold comfortably into a pretzel-like shape. A sigh escapes her and she starts picking the gravel out of her hands, at least it’s not her face. She did bite her lip though, and once again there’s a warm trickle of blood mapping out a route from her mouth to the tip of her chin. She’s really got to stop doing that . This time she does lick it - it’s not much of a substitute for actual food, but better to not lose what little she already has. It’s metallic and a little sweet and reminds her a bit of the shooting lessons from a few days ago. 

Lottie slides her hands back onto the rock and pulls herself up to sit perched on top of it, legs now pressed tightly to her chest. Gravel once again fills the dents in her palms she just finished plucking it out of, but it feels alright this time. The shards connect her to the rock and the earth that’s kept it steady in its place for long before Lottie was here. The sting grounds her and she can no longer find it in her to be frustrated with anything but herself.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the pain, blocking out her other senses one at a time until she can only feel the prickling across the pads of her hands. The trees cease their swaying. The branches far above her deadly still, no longer lamenting her with the brushing of their leafy needles. There is no wind and there is no steady hum of nocturnal insects. Just the feeling in her hands - which is no longer pain but more of a fuzzy static - and the calming dark of the backs of her eyelids.

After an amount of time, her senses begin to return, honed and focused to pick up on anything mammalian. Scent trails waft past her nose, most old from throughout the week. Rabbits and mice forage through vegetation, their scents follow dirt trails invisible except for slightly flattened foliage. The Squirrel’s paths are erratic and short, most go up towards the canopy - only on the floor for long enough to bury seeds or nuts that they’ll lose come winter anyways. 

A herd of deer passed through a day or two ago, grazed a bit and kept moving - if Lottie were to open her eyes she would see that the bushes nearby are barren, stripped clean of their fruits by care-free herbivores, unbeknownst that a pack of wolves followed in their wake. Early this morning, while the dew still coated each blade of grass. Both were headed South, away from the cabin. The deer’s path is zig-zagged and slow. They’re lazy, taking their time in each clearing to sample the local wares. The wolves’ pace is quick, with purpose. They’ll have caught up to them by sunrise. It will be a massacre.

There.

A new scent, something fresh. It wafts out from the haze of old smells that tell old stories. She filters them out, they aren’t important. The new aroma is that of a rodent, an image forms in her head of her target. It’s a vole. Small but sufficient - it’ll fill her up for the next few days, at least. Within a minute she’s managed to follow the trail mentally and locate it’s exact whereabouts. At the basin of a Maple just under 100 feet to her left. She has to either wait for it to wander closer to her or risk stalking it and her silk pajama pants alerting it to her presence. She traces the trail back to its burrow, it’s closer to her - about 50 feet. She could get that far undetected, she’d have to be careful though. 

Her eyes open, blinking as the blur reshapes itself into the rocks and fruitless bushes she knew would be waiting for her. Thin dark towers cutting through the fog, straight once more, up to the heavens. Slowly, she stretches out one leg at a time and plants them sturdily beneath her. She’s not going the drag her feet this time, and she’s definitely not going to trip. Meticulously, toe to heal, she plants one foot in front of the other - like she’s taking a drunk driving test - in the direction of the burrow’s entrance. She’s nearly silent besides the occasional shifting of fabric, enough to go undetected by her prey. The wolves flash through her mind, an image of them catching up to the herd, the resulting bloodbath. The gore makes her stomach tighten. She will always be the wolf, it’s a role she was born into. 

As she gets closer, she lowers herself to be just above the ground - decreasing the amount of vibrations that could travel through the compacted earth. The light breeze tickles her nose but the implication of wind direction is not lost on her, she’s in luck. Of course, that’s why she picked up on the vole’s scent in the first place. 

She waits now, just beside the vole’s home, ironic that she can’t enter it - because the doorway is too small, obviously. She’s close enough now to pick up on the activities of her oblivious victim, it’s digging around the base of the tree, scratching at the dirt and pulling up roots. It reminds her of her childhood hamster, cute . She doesn’t move, her fingers don’t twitch - she’s not even sure if she blinks  - but after about ten minutes, the steady scritch-scratch of little claws on bark and topsoil ceases. Shortly after, a soft pitter-patter replaces it. It follows an expected path, one of the many rabbit trails she had mapped out in her head earlier, shielded by tall grass and berry-bushes. As the padding gets louder, she stiffens, poised to strike, cold fangs pressing against her lower lip. 

The furry bundle skitters into view, focused entirely on the burrow, on home. It doesn’t see the snake coiled around the apple, only the comfort that it could provide. She strikes, plucking it easily from the dip in the earth just before it could disappear to safety - and it screams . It thrashes and claws with all its tiny might, panicking to escape from her clutches. She’s taken aback by its struggling, its terrified - of her . Guilt rises in her throat and her grip loosens just enough for it to tear itself free and vanish into the burrow, leaving only a few tufts of brown fur behind, stuck to her finger pads. 

She collapses onto the floor, legs extended across the rabbit trail - probably fucking up all the scent trails. Her fangs re-sheeth and she just stares, not even at the burrow or the trees or really anything in particular. She lets her vision unfocus until it all just blurs together. Her face is hot - it’s wet too. That explains the blurred vision . She raises a hand to her cheek and brings it away to see tear drops decorating her fingertips, just above the bits of gravel still implanted in her palms. 

She goes hungry that night. 

≫------»

Lottie sits on the front porch of the cabin on the lowest step, coiled into a near perfect ball. Her knees are pulled up, arms wrapped loosely on top so her hands press up to her chest, with her cheek planted firmly on top. Dark hair cascades around her, creating a type of fortress. Her teammates are sprawled out around her, some have bowls to sort through various foraged plants, picking out anything inedible. She doesn’t look at them. Her stomach feels tight and she’s a little light-headed. She just doesn’t have the energy to partake in whatever they’re discussing right now, or even to make eye contact. Instead, she pears out at the trees that peak through the gaps in her hair, growing sideways due to her angle. 

Just as her eyelids begin to droop, there’s a faint sound of ferns rustling from across the clearing. The girls around her leap to their feet, metal bowls cling against the old planks and nails of the porch as they’re abandoned in favor of what Nat and Travis have brought back. She lifts her head from her hands and is met with what appears to be a good sized doe, tied to a stick that balances precariously between the hunter’s shoulders. She’s never found the sight of a carcass so thrilling, but the rumble deep in her stomach is tenacious.

Then Coach Scott says the words she had been both dreading and praying for “First thing we’ve got to do is bleed it out.” she can see Nat’s face fall visibly, she pales for a moment, but quickly recovers, hardening her expression. 

Lottie’s known of Natalie’s origins, at least to an extent, for about a month. When her cousin didn’t return from the party, her family went looking. A middle-aged man had been found with his head nearly twisted off next to the boy. There had been a hole right between her cousin’s eyes - a quick death, nearly painless. But the weapon of interest was not in the man’s grasp, or even near him, it had been across the clearing nearly 20ft away. Just earlier that night she’d ran into a very dazed Natalie - so pale she may as well have been drained herself. She found out later that it had been her dad. Her family had covered up the deaths, no rumors circulated and no one at school even knew Nat’s dad had died, as far as she knew. But she had overheard her parents talking, cutting whispers about what had actually happened, who had shot her cousin and who Leonard Scatorccio had been working with. There’s not a lot of Scatorccio’s in Wiskayok; it was easy to narrow down the list. It hadn’t made her trust the blonde any less, if anything it made her pity her. They were born into these roles and Nat had been abandoned in her’s. She had been through so much already. Too much.

“Who wants to give it a try?” Misty’s hand shoots up before the last word leaves his mouth, a lopsided grin decorating her face. She goes ignored, unsurprisingly. Van is squatted down next to the animal, head cocked with some kind of morbid curiosity, yet she doesn’t volunteer. Lottie had stepped back without realizing, distancing herself from what she craves, what she fears. She could easily take care of their ‘blood issue’ but she’d probably find herself at the business end of Nat’s rifle shortly after and it’s unlikely the others would defend her.

“I’ll give it a try.” Shauna. Her voice sounds almost shy, but it’s concealing deeper desire. Lottie sees it in the way her fingers shake, like she craves it. She steps forward, eyes slowly detaching themselves from the corpse to meet the coach’s. He smiles at her kindly and plants the handle of the knife in her palm. “Just right across the throat.” She wastes no time, eyes locked once more on the deer’s throat. She doesn’t waver or hesitate. Her hands are steady as she glides the blade along its path, dark red liquid pooling behind it as she goes, trickling through the matted fur and dripping onto the ground. 

Lottie wants to rush forward, to lap it up before it’s claimed by the soil and lost forever. She hasn’t smelled blood this strong in days , not since the crash, and she was fairly disoriented then. It’s intoxicating and causes a wave of nausea to settle over her. It’s right there - she wouldn’t even have to use her fangs. Maybe she could play it off as a fit of hysteria caused by hunger - maybe she could get away with it. She looks away. 

“We should hang it.” Coach Scott smiles weakly at Shauna, who hasn’t broken eye contact with the steady flow of blood from the deer’s neck - or blinked? “The blood will drain faster that way.” Laura lee brings out a heep of rope, but keeps her eyes locked on Van’s as she passes it over, unwilling to even spare a glance to the carcass. Van wraps the rope sturdily around the back legs of the animal, Akilah offering tips on the best kind of knot to use - apparently some kind of hitch knot. The end of the rope is then thrown around the strongest looking tree branch Akilah could find and used as a pulley-system to heave the deer up into the air. It’s heavy, which is good, means more food, but it takes at least five girls to get it up high enough. The animal swings grotesquely from the motion and Jackie covers her mouth at the site, turning away shortly after. 

“I’ll get a bucket!” Lottie blurts out. Nat quirks an eyebrow at her in response. “Uh- bears! If we just let it bleed onto the ground, bears will come.” Bears are not attracted to the smell of blood - she knows this. Nat probably knows it too, but no one says anything. 

The bucket slides smoothly across the pine needles, the dripping blood quickly changes from a soft pattering to a sharp metallic ding . It rings incessantly in her ears and she almost keels over from the proximity. Straight-backed, she forces herself to rise. 

“I’m gonna go sit down for a bit.” She murmurs to really no one but herself. Misty catches it though, of course. “Oh yeah, a lot of people feel a little woozy at the sight of blood! Go rest up, wouldn’t wanchya faintin’!” She sing-songs. Lottie offers her thin, polite smile in return. It doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The rest of the evening consists of hungry eyes staring at a strung-up deer either from the porch or through the foggy windows of the cabin. They’re like vultures waiting for their prey to stop twitching, ready to rip it apart. It’s weird seeing that kind of impatience on the faces of her friends, at least when it has to do with a freshly killed carcass still covered in fur and actively dripping blood. It’s weird - she’s only seen that kind of look paint the faces of her cousins or family friend’s kids. That sort of unchecked bloodlust that vampires learn to hide as they get older. 

Shauna is biting at her finger nails, Laura lee is braiding her hair over and over again, letting the platinum blonde strands fall out and starting again from the top, never actually tying it in place. Jackie is pacing, talking about how she would kill for a cheesesteak, which isn’t helping the other girls, who are already practically drooling. Lottie can’t turn off her heightened senses - hasn’t been able to since last night and it’s really starting to get on her nerves. Tai is tapping her foot feverishly from outside, and somehow she can even sense Van’s eyes burning into the back of Tai’s head, which is odd because she’s dead silent - maybe that’s why she can sense it. Van’s never silent - literally . She really could’ve done without hearing her snore all night with her ears turned up to level 10. Her head hurt all morning - who would’ve thought someone snoring could literally give you a migraine. Gen and Melissa are bickering about something in the corner that’s blurred into a steady buzz and if Crystal sings “The Glory of Love” one more time she may actually lose it. 

It takes less than an hour to drain. Shauna helps Coach Scott skin the animal while the other girls stoke the campfire or pace impatiently (Jackie). No one wanders far, too desperate to be first in line once the hypothetical dinner bell rings. 

Cuts of meat are sliced off the bone and handed out one by one, there’s no point in trying to make the girls wait for their food to be cooked, they’ll do it on their own. Lottie hangs back, waiting for the others to get their fill, they’ll notice her not eating eventually but she’s not about to be first in line to stuff her mouth when she’s just going to have to throw it up.

The girls feast like rabid animals, like a pack of hungry wolves faced with a lone fawn. It’s incredibly violent for a “prepared meal” and therefore incredibly messy - it’s not like they have napkins. Mari’s cut looks just about raw, she’ll probably get sick later. 

“Lottie! I noticed you haven’t eaten anything” Laura Lee all but floats over. “Here, I already cooked it for you.” She gently plants a strip of seared meat into Lottie’s open palms. There had been genuine concern in her voice, masked by layers of honey. Upon Lottie’s acceptance of the gift, a smile lights up her face and the worry seems to fade. Laura lee’s hand rests gently on Lottie’s back, rubbing soothing patterns into the fabric of her shirt. She smiles expectantly - no, encouragingly at Lottie, waiting for her to eat. She’s trying to help . She is unaware that this will only make Lottie feel worse, if she did know… well, she probably wouldn’t be this close. Ocean eyes track her hand as she brings it to her mouth, the char pressing against her lower lip. It smells like it’s rotten, it will taste worse . The thought makes her stomach clench and her lightheadedness from earlier quickly return. She slides it between her teeth and closes her lips around it. It tastes like ash. 

She chews and swallows, then forces a smile for the blonde, even as the heat has already begun rising in her throat. Laura Lee looks pleased enough and with one more quick rub of Lottie’s arm, stands to leave. “Tell me if you need anything else, please.” If she has a halo, Lottie wouldn’t be able to see it, but she’d believe anyone who spoke of it’s existence. 

As soon as Laura Lee makes it inside, she throws up.

“What the fuck , Lottie?!” Tai stares at her from across the campfire. “Ate too fast.” Lottie mumbles in reply, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. She provides no further explanation, instead standing abruptly, swaying in place for a moment, then making her way over to what’s left of the deer. The bucket sits patiently beneath it, filled to the brim with the animal’s blood, reflecting the carcass in a way that can only be described as a mockery. It mocks her too. She peers up at Shauna, still leaning on the table, toying aimlessly with the knife. She chews as the blade digs into the half-rotted wood, causing it to crumble and flake. 

“Shauna…” Lottie tries. The brunette’s concentration is broken and she looks up. “Lottie?”

“I’m not feeling great, was gonna go for a walk. Figured I would take the bucket and empty it out while I’m at it. Make myself useful.” She adds at the end, hands up in a sort of half-shrug. Shauna will get that. 

“Sure, Lottie. Take it easy.” She’s got an eyebrow raised slightly, curious to Lottie’s situation but never pushy for what she isn’t offered. 

The bucket has an extra weight to it because of the liquid. She lifts with two hands, careful to not let any splash onto her legs. The pail teeters awkwardly, the cold metal knocking against her knees. Eyes follow her as she hobbles to the edge of the clearing. “Don’t go far, it’s dark out.” A voice calls after her. “I won’t Coach, be back in a second.” She keeps her tone calm, light-hearted, like she isn’t about to unravel at every seam  - lose all grip on sanity and shove her head into the bottom of a bucket of deer blood. She doesn’t pause or look back, she just keeps trudging through the brush until the chatter behind her fades to a hushed drone. The bucket hits the floor with a dull thud, the contents sloshing up to the rim but never escaping. She lets herself keel over finally, palm pressed firmly into the bark of the nearest trunk, splinters working their way into the soft flesh. Her head is pounding, each wave of searing pain seems to pull at her, mouth first towards the scarlett liquid, screaming at her to leave not a drop behind. 

She whips her head around, surveying her surroundings for any drifters, her vision already beginning to blur at the edges from her pupils blowing out. Then finally, she lets herself fall to her knees, bent over the pail. Pine needles dig into her shins, sure to leave imprints behind - they’ll serve as a reminder of her actions throughout the night when her fingers trace along the patterned outlines. Her slender fingers curl around the rim of the pail, luke-warm liquid just barely lapping at her fingertips - “pianist fingers” her mother always told her, she’d make sure Lottie’s fingers and nails were perfect, pristine. When she was caught biting them as a nervous habit she had been yelled at, then ignored until she found herself a different habit. Now her nails dig into cheap steel, splintering under the pressure, thick blood finding it’s way into her nail bed in a way she could never fully dig out. 

Her jaw is clenched and a deep ache extends from behind her ears to the base of her neck as she lowers herself to the basin. Darkened eyes look back at her, pupils wide and wild. Her chin finally dips down, ripples breaking the surface tension and distorting her own reflection. She doesn’t need her fangs for this feeding, but they nick her lips nonetheless. Bitter ichor pools on her tongue. It's not the kind of blood she was made for, but she’s never tasted something so perfectly satiating. It’s bitter but it’s also sweet and salty and a little earthy. She drinks until she is full. 

She’s never felt full in her life. 

≫------»

By the time she returns to the cabin, everyone has moved inside. She had taken the bucket to the lake to wash any remains of blood before they could rust the metal, and to delay having to face the others. The bucket leaves an evanescent trail behind her now, still dripping lake water. The door groans against its hinges as she pushes it open. There’s the expected scattered groups standing or sitting around the main area, and across from the door, Van, Tai, and Mari are messing with some kind of tape. An unexpected group . Well, sort of - Mari is unexpected. 

Van turns in the direction of the noise, making eye contact with Lottie briefly before her eyes land on the bucket. “ The bucket! ” 

“What? Van, how is a bucket going to fix the cassette” Tai exasperates.

So Mari brought a cassette player? She may be insufferable on a good day but between this and the fruit by foot maybe she isn’t all bad. Still can’t be trusted with a secret, though . 

“No- not to fix it.” Van practically skips over. “For a speaker !” She adds an overdramatic thank you directed at Lottie as she slides the handle onto her wrist. 

Tai scoffs but a smirk quickly follows “Of course, why didn’t I think of that sooner.” Mari’s face is lit up at the notion “Sooo we just have to fix this thing and we have a party!” “Yes, Mari! If you get this thing working I’ll go ahead and run down to the 7/11 and grab us some booze!” The redhead quips. She looks a little hurt at the comment. 

Van sets up the improvised speaker and the three return to their mission. Apparently the cassette player got pretty banged up in the crash. Said mission primarily consists of Tai and Mari bickering about how to fix it and every once in a while Van shaking it or banging it against the table, which of course causes the other two to turn and glare at her.

  There’s a light brush against her arm and she turns just in time to see Nat’s hand returning to her side. She looks uneasy, or maybe concerned? But she’s still standing in that way where all her weight is on one hip and you’d expect her to be holding a red solo cup. 

“Are you okay?” Her teeth are weathering at her lower lip like she’s nervous to hear the reply- or nervous to be talking to her at all. Come to think of it, they haven’t talked much recently. Not since her dad…

“You threw up earlier…” Lottie had forgotten to reply. Damn it . “Oh- um yeah sorry you had to see that. I think I just got wrapped up in the excitement, ate too quickly ya know.” She lies. Like she always does. Like she has to. She lies and she laughs it off to sell the story, absently waving her hand in the air as if to expel any lingering doubts. 

Piercing blue eyes look up at her, easily seeing through her lie and what feels like every lie she’s ever told. They scan her face, searching for some kind of give away- some indication of the truth, a twitch of the eye or a tense of the jaw. “We both know that's not true, Lott.” She sighs and leans back on her heels, giving Lottie a chance to breathe while she prepares for what will inevitably come next. “That was the first bite of food you had all night. The only bite.” Her voice is rough and low. It’s barely above a whisper and if Lottie hadn’t been aware of what she was already going to say- or if she hadn’t been reading her lips word for word - she easily could’ve missed it. She must be keeping quiet so the others don’t hear, so they don’t worry about Lottie or see her as the weak link she is - or so they don’t think Nat actually cares, could ruin her reputation. Of course Lottie knows said reputation is bullshit. Nat’s always cared more than the average person.

Her own hand brushes against her arm now, finding its way to the crevice between her bicep and forearm, searching for some amount of comfort or encouragement within herself - some kind of believable excuse to plate and serve so those eyes will stop seeing through her. 

“I really don’t know what to tell you, Nat.” She finally lets out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Maybe it just didn’t sit with me right.” 

Alarm immediately flashes across Nat’s face, followed by a sickly guilt. “You don’t think there was something wrong with the meat do you-”

“No- No- that’s not what I meant. The meat was fine. Don’t worry, you did a good job with the deer. I think my system had just… adjusted to the scraps-” She’s rambling and using her hands way more than necessary, but she can’t have Nat thinking this is somehow her fault when it’s anything but that. Can’t change biology. 

“It’s been a while since any of us have had a real meal…” She manages to add at the end, which seems to do the trick because Nat’s shoulders relax and she sucks in her cheek to start chewing on it in thought. 

“Alright… just try to eat some more in the morning… please.” She seems discomforted by her own sincerity and attempts to change the subject - or at least get the attention off of herself, pointing out that the cassette is close to being fixed. 

“Okay, wait I heard it for a second.” Tai points at one of the knobs “Turn that back.” 

Mari, with her eyes squinted, twists the knob ever so slightly and the cabin fills with the familiar sound of Montell Jordan’s voice in “This is How We Do It”. The girls who weren’t already up are quickly on their feet. For the first time in weeks they have full bellies, and now music? It’s basically prom. 

The previous conversation is all but forgotten as they join the other girls now gathering in the center of the room. Jackie and Shauna are back to back immediately, reflecting each other's awkward dance moves in an almost sweet, goofy way - like they’re the only two in the whole cabin. It’s a little hard to watch, it’s a little hard to look away. Van and Tai are wildly jumping to the beat, arms raised. Even Coach Scott and Travis are smiling. The mass of girls quickly becomes a messy set of lines under Mari’s command and she starts shouting out various dance moves. They all laugh but follow her directions like she’s some kind of dance-video instructor, which is probably some kind of wet-dream of hers. It’s a blur of hands, hair, and the white flash of teeth that often accompanies a grin. Lottie feels it herself now, her guilt lifting and being replaced with pure bliss. Bliss marked by the soft ache in her cheeks, the giddy laughter that bubbles up from her chest, and the feeling of finally being full. She feels light on her feet, she feels warm and safe . It’s like she’s back home again- well not home , but in Wiskayok - at one of Jackie’s new years parties or something. High on life and alcohol, and a few hits off of Nat. 

Javi’s pushed to the front and he knows the dance moves better than half the girls there! For a moment, a circle is formed around him and a series of whoops and hollers are let out. Shauna and Nat are both cheering him on and before long join him in the middle, breaking the circle and any sense of formation the group may have previously had. The dancing once again melts into chaos; some girls are jumping up and down, shouting the lyrics with their eyes screwed shut, some are lazily swaying to the beat or making various hand motions to go along, a few make their ways to the cabin walls to wind down. 

And of course the cassette stops working. The music slows and distorts, fading to a dull and disappointing silence. A few grumbles and sighs sound from around the room as the realization hits that their party is rapidly getting shut down. In the new found silence, a new noise begins weaving its way to the back of Lottie’s mind. An uncomfortable creaking, itching up her spine. Like an old tree cracking under the pressure of a strong gust, or a person stepping on an old floorboard. Her stomach begins to flutter like it may not hold her venison. 

“God damnit” Van rolls her eyes before marching over to their makeshift bucket speaker, picking up the cassette and big surprise - hitting it again. “Has hitting something ever fixed it?” Bold words for someone who's been hitting things since birth. “Maybe try blowing on it?” Mari offers. No luck. Another noise from above, another lurch of her stomach. 

“Uh, what the fuck was that.” 

She pauses. “You heard it too?” She's used to hearing noises others can’t. She figured her senses were off from her fucked up eating schedule, too much blood after none at all. Plus the trees have been seemingly trying to talk to her since they landed - “landed” - and she had sort of just adjusted to no one else noticing. 

“It was probably just a branch.” Tai says like the answer was so apparent the question itself was stupid. “Inside on the floor?” Mari scoffs. She’s met only with a sigh. “What if it’s… him” she moves her head side to side as if she’s reasoning out the suggestion, gauging how the others will react. 

Shauna’s eyebrows shoot up “The dead guy?” 

“Um, yeah” She says it like it’s obvious, but her eyes don’t leave the floor. 

“Ya know what it probably was?” Nat interjects, voice deep as if she’s preparing to tell a ghost story, hands set firmly on her hips. The room is dead silent, waiting for her to continue. “The dead guy’s missing fingers trying to find their way home.” a smile creeps its way onto her face, pleased with her own ability to draw the others in. She’s met with everything from wincing to laughter and multiple voices that say her name laced with varying degrees of disappointment. Tai chastises her but the smile plastered across her face betrays her.  

“You’ve got to admit, it didn’t sound like it was on the roof.” Akilah isn’t smiling, her comment is deliberate. Mari is standing next to her, arms crossed, with a look somewhere between horrified and disgusted. Maybe she will get sick after all. 

Jackie says something- but all Lottie can hear is the faint creaking still looming over them - like at any moment there could be a splinter, followed by a loud crack , signifying the wooden panels could no longer handle the weight of all they’ve seen, all they know,  and shortly after the ceiling would collapse and bury them all. There’s also this fuzzy sort of static at the back of her head, she can’t quite place it, just like she can’t quite place the sound. There’s too much interference, too many voices talking over it, drowning it out and distorting it. Like a migraine that hits when you’re out with people and you can feel it at the back of your head, swarming behind your eyes, but you can’t close your eyes or cover your ears because there are other people and of course they don’t know how you feel so they keep talking over your migraine, making it fester and swell beneath your skull. Talking over the ache at the back of your head, over the buzzing behind your eyes, over the creaking in the floorboards above your head - and they just won’t shut up . 

“shh” the bickering stops. She can feel their eyes on her, even as hers are trained on the ceiling. “Oh my god” Tai’s always the first to voice her disapproval. “Listen” her voice sounds small, like she’s far away or under water, she’s not even sure if they heard her. They must have though, because not a word is spoken. One by one each of their heads tilt up, eyes meeting the crooked nails of the boards above. They’re finally listening, they can hear the creaking, they can feel the buzzing behind their eyes and the white noise in the backs of their heads. 

“Well I don’t hear it now ” 

Or not. 

She’s torn from her delusion, they can’t hear what she does, feel what she does. It was just a fluke. How could she think that they could share her experience, even for a moment? They aren’t like her. How could they be? They’ve never hovered over a vole while it screeches in terror, they’ve never cut their lips on their own fangs, they’ve never keeled over at the mere smell of another’s blood. It’s just her. Suddenly, there’s blood in her mouth again. It’s sour and burns her tongue. She is alone. 

≫------»

The realization hits harder than expected. It makes her organs twist and contort, like they’re rearranging themselves under the weight of her new reality. She’s been hearing more, feeling more, seeing more - she’s been drinking blood and hunting animals and even the trees have been watching over her knowingly, passing judgment between their crooked limbs. On some particularly lonely nights they almost seem to sympathize with her, as if they understand her situation, as if they’ve seen this before. The wind blows at just the right angle, causing them to arch and bend down to greet her. 

They speak to her on those nights too, keeping her company and shifting their limbs in ways that sound just like a soughed murmur - a murmur only she can discern. It’s become painfully obvious that she isn’t like her teammates, the girls she basically grew up with, people she once called family. She’s spent pretty much her whole life trying to blend in with them to not only appear human, but to be human. Trying to achieve a perfection that is anything but  - humanity. Every day acting like she doesn’t know what she is. Swallowing blood pills whole so they never have the chance to pop in her mouth, so she can never know the taste of what she desires with her very being. She’s kept it just out of arm's reach, just a clench of her jaws away, always. That’s what’s kept her human. 

But she’s not human. The creaking of the floor boards tell her this, the buzzing behind her eyes and the static in her head. The whispers of the trees that pity her can only be translated to “you are different. You are home now.” and the blood in her mouth agrees.

She avoids the girls for the majority of the next day. A day to ground herself, to distance herself. She finds herself on the shore of the lake. There’s a light breeze and it tickles her nose. The trees do not speak to her today, they are just trees. Lazily swaying back and forth in the wind,  sun glinting off their leaves and causing little patches of filtered light to dance across the shores. It’d be gorgeous under any other circumstances. 

Without bothering to take her clothes off, she wades out into the water. It’s cold and sends little shivers up her spine. The water never really warms up this far north, holding onto the chill of winter during the warmer months. She traces the crests of tiny waves with her finger tips, letting that chill run up her arm and to her brain. Slowly she dips her hands into the water, the feeling is similar to a brain freeze, but controllable. This way she can numb everything else out and just be . 

She’s out there for minutes - or hours - when she hears footsteps behind her. She doesn’t turn, hoping it’s a deer or something.

“Lottie?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah” she pauses and looks down at the water, now waist deep. “Actually…” she turns to look back at the blonde, Jackie looks outright disturbed. “I thought it’d be warmer.” It’s hardly an excuse but her brain is still frozen and slow. She can’t bother thinking of something better and she doesn’t care much right now, anyways. Jackie chooses not to push.

That evening, Jackie does however, propose a seance… to improve team spirit or whatever. 

Laura Lee isn’t happy about it. 

“Lottie, don’t partake in this witchcraft …” Laura Lee’s eyes are pleading, her hand is wrapped lightly around Lottie’s upper arm. It’s cold. “They’re trying to make some joke of it but what they’re doing is really dangerous.” and she’s right, well to an extent. Depending on what Jackie has planned this seance could be a harmless game - all in good fun as the former team captain would say - or it could stir up that which is long dead and buried, and really should be left alone. Odds are the first option is the case, but the trees have once again started to twist and crane above as if to get a better view. One could never be too sure.

“I think… that’s why I need to be there.” Cold fingers slip away from her arm. “Lottie, you shouldn’t put yourself in that position” Laura Lee shakes her head slowly. “I think you’re probably right about that, but I’ll feel more at ease if I’m there. I can keep an eye on them for you.” She finds herself smiling a bit at the comment, like they’re the ones who need to be watched . Like they’re the ones who are dangerous. 

“You can’t protect them from themselves, Lottie… Just please try to stay safe for me?” 

She should have listened to Laura Lee, she should have known that she could never protect them- not from themselves, not from herself, and certainly not from whatever is in these woods. 

≫------»

There’s dirt and deer blood on her forehead, which is a little nauseating, but Nat seems to think it’s hilarious . She thinks this whole situation is hilarious. “What if his fingers tap us on the back and we turn around and it’s just his entire skeleton! Raised right up from the grave” She’s wiggling her fingers in the air to indicate that what she said is scary and her lip is stuck on her tooth in that way it does sometimes when she smiles a little too wide. It would be very cute if Lottie didn’t already feel ill. Van smirks at this, clearly seeing an opportunity, “You’re really stuck on those fingers, huh? Do you just like love ‘The Addams Family’ that much, or has it really been that long?” Nat makes a face at this but Van’s probably the only person who could get away with talking to her like that. “Says you! Where’s Tai, huh? ‘Trouble in Paradise’ already?” The sheer amount of film references and half-hearted insults could only exist in a conversation between the two of them. Van throws her hands up against Nat’s mouth to silence her, but the comment was quiet enough that most of the girls wouldn’t be able to hear anyways. Lottie, of course, has always been an exceptional listener. 

“Guys, come on, we need to get serious!” Jackie sighs as she finishes tying a cloth around Shauna’s eyes and hands her the pendulum. “You know what to say?” She purses her lips as she spins Shauna around to face her, a hand on each of her shoulders. Shauna tilts her head and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth “Yes Jackie, go sit down.” “Okay okay!” Jackie lifts her hands in a defensive pose before sliding past Lottie to get to her seat on the other side of the circle, careful to not walk across the middle. 

The questions asked are for the most part just silly - did this person hook up with this person or does my crush like me back - stuff that doesn’t matter anymore but feels good to ask anyways. It makes the fact that they’re having a seance in a cabin in the middle of the Canadian Rockies feel light-hearted and fun, like it’s a team sleepover. 

Until Javi joins. 

He has a certain demeanor about him, something along the lines of hopelessness and doom. It's not right to see on a kid so young and it’s nothing like how he was at the party last night. Something is wrong, she can tell before the words leave his mouth. The air feels stagnant and wrong and the laughter around her begins to muddle into an eerily familiar creaking. An old tree, rot and decay already bloomed in its core - taken hold where it can thrive undetected, where none can see - barely held up right but the bark around it, braced against a heavy wind, just about ready to snap . Their laughter sounds oddly like the splintering of each remaining support. Javi’s open mouth sounds like a too-heavy breeze. 

“Are we all gonna die out here?”

A crack. 

Silence. 

The pendulum moves on its own - forming a perfect infinity. It’s burned into her eyelids. She’ll see if every time she closes her eyes. In every dream, every nightmare, every blink. Like a brand. 

Then, noise . 

It’s not like the strain of the tree or the wind that blew against it, it’s not like the crack when it finally snapped under the pressure. It’s the sound of it hitting the ground, the layers of bark and rot shattering on impact. It’s the sound of a jet engine, of the creaking in the floorboards, the buzzing behind her eyes, and the pines speaking in her ears - not whispering this time but yelling . It’s the feeling of a rock in her stomach and a searing pain at the base of her skull. It’s the feeling of a wolfpack with full bellies and the carnage they left behind. 

Or maybe, it’s just her. Because she’s screaming . 

There are hands on her back and on her arms and in her hair. They should feel comforting but they feel foreign, like they’re trapping her, like she’s a caged animal. She’s whimpering, howling, thrashing and clawing against them - anything to get away. 

When she looks up she sees red. There’s blood spread across the girls who surround her. Blood on the hands that cage her - blood on their mouths. She laughs. 

“It’s in you already” 

At some point the window had flown open because she can hear the pines so clearly now - she’s not sure why she couldn’t hear it before - she is different, but not for long. 

Chapter Text

Laura Lee is braiding her hair. Brushing it out and delicately separating the locks. Nails lightly scratch her scalp as the blonde laces her fingers between dark strands, criss-crossing and intertwining them together. There’s a slight tugging sensation, but it doesn’t hurt. If anything it grounds her; keeps her focused on where she is, what’s going on, the girl behind her and the conversation they’re having, even during its lulls. It reminds her that she is real, that Laura Lee is real. It’s comforting, she’d happily sit here all day. 

“So you’ve been hearing and sometimes seeing things?” The blonde contemplates. She doesn’t come off as judgmental or even scared. Just thoughtful.

“Sometimes, yeah. I can hear things that I think happened a long time ago here, creaking in the attic and whatnot. And the trees - the trees just feel so alive here. It’s hard to explain. Sometimes it just gets so loud.” Of course, she could never reveal the root of her problem, the thing that guides her to the woods in the dark of night, the hunt - but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who will actually listen. 

She hears the thump of the brush on the table as Laura Lee sets it down next to her. “Yes, it’s common for prophets to struggle with deciphering God’s will. It can be confusing and many who are lucky enough to be chosen often feel lost and confused, but I think I’m here to guide you. We can figure out what he is trying to tell you together. You’re not alone, Lottie” 

Prophet. 

She places her hand on Lottie’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Lottie turns to face her, knees still pressed into the uneven wooden floorboards. Laura Lee is perched on the bench behind her, leaning forward with her cheek on the heel of her free hand. Knelt on the floor beneath her, It’s like looking up at an angel.

Prophet. That’s what the angel called her. 

The hint of a genuine smile still creases Laura Lee’s eyes and forms faint dimples in her cheeks. 

“I have an idea.”

She follows Laura Lee to the lake. Hand in hand, devoted and trusting. She lets the girl undress her, holds her arms up so a clean white dress can be pulled over her head - something about purity in color and fabric. 

The water is still cold but this time it feels welcoming. There’s a wake forming behind Laura Lee and she fits perfectly between the crests. Like she’s being tucked into bed, wrapped in silk or like the plastic is being zipped on her body bag. A calm settles over her. She can’t hear the trees now, can hardly even see them. They wait patiently for her return, ever-silent observers. 

There’s a briskness to the air and a breeze lifts her bangs and nips at her nose, but she hardly notices. When the air is still and the trees are loud, there is concern to be had. For now, the land is calm and so is she. She pays no mind to the air, or the trees, or the earth. She will reconvene with them tomorrow. Today is for gods and angels - if she believes in those things. 

There is Laura Lee, starlight hair pulled back into a low pony, smiling back at her as she guides her - just like she promised. Guides her out to sea, into the depths. Forming a perfect path in the waves for Lottie to blindly follow. They stop a little past waist-deep. Their hands intertwine like the braids in her hair, and press against her heart. She does have one, a heart, contrary to what the stories say. If there is blood there must be a heart, even if it is run on the blood of others. Stolen time she’s always thought. It beats with a ferocity now - an eagerness - for what she’s not entirely sure. 

“Dear Heavenly Father,

Please Accept Lottie into your loving embrace, so that she may recognize your holy spirit,

Be cleansed of her sins,

And welcomed into the kingdom of heaven. In your name we pray, 

"Amen.” 

Amen 

A steady hand unfurls against her back, and suddenly she’s pulled down. 

The water rushes over her face, the calming tug of sleep, the casket door shutting and layers of dirt marrying her to the earth. She couldn’t fight it if she wanted to - but why would she want to. She’s pulled into the darkness. Water fills her lungs and she is cleansed. 

So why is there a stag looking back at her?

Her new guide emerges from the darkness, with horns that fan out like the branches of an oak tree. The sound of its hooves are dampened by a layer of water that coats the floor. The floor - she’s standing. The stag pears at her curiously through beedy eyes, waiting for her to make a choice; to turn away from it or follow. It says nothing and everything. It doesn’t need to - a deer never asks a wolf to give chase. 

She follows the buck down dark corridors, they twist and turn until she is completely lost. The further she gets from where she started, the darker and colder it gets. Her skin prickles and her feet are numb. Then, she turns a corner and he’s gone. It is completely dark and she has no guide. She walks on. The hall is long, she’s not sure how long she walks, maybe only a few minutes, maybe hours. But a distant glow reflects off the shallow water after a time. Candle light. 

Candles line a staircase up to an altar at the end of the hall, fire-light dimly illuminating her path. Step by step she makes her way up to the singular unlit candle that sits atop it, waiting for the warmth of flame, waiting for her. Her water-logged dress drags along the concrete of each step, catching on her feet and weighing her down, desperately trying to pull her back to the depths from which she came. She walks on. 

Once at the top of the steps, she uses another candle to light it, the flame jumps hungrily to the new wick and the hall grows brighter - warmer. She certainly does not belong here and yet it feels as though this is the only place she has ever belonged. It’s horribly ironic for a vampire to sit at the gates of heaven, lighting candles for God. But this doesn’t look much like heaven, and she’s the only one here. There is no stag and there is no God. Yet the flame only grows brighter. Who is it for, if not a god? 

When she opens her eyes she sees fire. Not the peaceful flickering of a lit candle, or even the climbing flames of a campfire, but the kind of fire you only see in movies, war movies or action movies with overdone explosions. It grows above the water as if set on gasoline, expanding from behind Laura lee’s head, growing brighter, bleaching her hair from gold to white. Flames lick at her face and burn so bright that the contrast blots out her facial features entirely, only a perfect silhouette left behind. An eclipse. Lottie can feel the heat of it near the surface of the water, now. It burns as brightly as the sun and suddenly it’s as if she’s being boiled alive.

She screams

Freezing lake water rushes down her throat and into her lungs. Tense hands with splayed fingers lift her from her watery tomb, panicked and flailing. She sputters and gasps for air, struggling to get her knees to hold her own weight. 

“What- what is it?”

“I saw fire and light.” She can’t breathe, her words come out jumbled and unclear, she can’t understand herself. Laura Lee does. 

“That’s the Holy Spirit!” She’s happy. Pleased with Lottie’s performance. “You’ve been touched.” Lottie’s brought in for a hug, warm arms wrap around her neck. They burn her just as the water did. She doesn’t flinch. 

She doesn’t tell Laura Lee anymore of what she saw. 

≫------»

A buck writhing with maggots. That’s what Nat brings back. Bloody velvet drapes across its antlers. Even in death, it squirms with life. It’s vile. 

Tai wants to leave. She plans to head south, find a town or something, come back with help. Van and a few other girls agree to go with her. It’s a bad idea. She’s had a recurring dream of a red river, vicious snapping jaws and teeth, and an explosion in the sky. It looks like the end of days Laura Lee’s bible speaks of; the rapture. Armageddon. 

The deer only confirms it. A walking corpse. They are truly lost with no guide.  

They burn it. But not all of it-

One vertebra remains unsinged, perfectly white. perfectly pure. She plucks it from the creature’s spine and turns it over in her palm. 

It’s a sign. It’s hope. 

When Tai made the announcement, Lottie already knew how it would end. Her dream was of course more than a dream, they always are- and the blood she saw was not meaningless. Everything is controlled with blood; life, death. A river of it is far from meaningless.

This is why she unsheaths her fangs, plots out the ideal location on her wrist, and bites down hard. This is why she holds the vertebra up and lets blood drip onto bone. To keep her friends safe. To keep Van safe. 

The liquid is sucked into the tiny pores, absorbed in seconds. As if it was hungry. 

Lottie crouches down next to Van, who’s distracted watching the others preparing to leave. She seemed against the plan at first but announced that she would be joining Tai a few hours later. She notices Lottie and turns to face her. “Hey Lott, what’s up?” It’s said as a sigh, she sounds tired. 

“If you have to leave, will you at least take this?” “Um sure, what is it?” She’s hesitant, unsure, and of course confused. Lottie’s just strolled up to her and offered her a bone necklace with no explanation. “Just take it. It will keep you safe.” She doesn’t have much of an explanation to offer “Like a lucky rabbit’s foot?” Bargaining, she’s trying to understand. It’s so hard to explain any of this, but she can try. 

“I had a dream last night. There was- I don’t know… red smoke and a river of blood.” Van looks back at the other girls. She looks at Tai. She’s nervous, but it’s clear she doesn’t grasp what Lottie is telling her, the importance of it. Van probably thinks she’s lost it, she wouldn’t be the first. Lottie can’t blame her. 

“Just promise me you won’t lose it, okay?” A pause. 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Lot.” Even with the look of concern plastered across her face, Van lets Lottie finish tying the string behind her neck and embrace her. She places a reassuring hand on her back and agrees to wear Lottie’s blood around her throat. 

Unknowingly, of course. 

≫------»

They return stumbling - well, some of them - covered in blood and grime. Misty’s hair is frizzed up like a disheveled poodle and Mari looks like she’s about to collapse. Tai sent them to get help; the party had been attacked by wolves and Van was lethally wounded. 

Wolves. They were headed south. 

They spend the night retracing the girls’ path, running at first, then walking as they grow jaded and weary. Their throats are hoarse and sore from screaming their friend’s names into the night air. It makes no difference how fast they run or loud they yell, they continue to be met with silence. They’re fucking lost. It’s too dark to see the path and not even Misty is sure if they’re headed in the right direction. Lottie is doing her best to follow the smell of blood and fur but there’s no clear path. The trees blend into one indistinguishable mass of foliage in a way that seems almost purposeful, mocking them. They’re probably walking in circles, trapped in a labyrinth of thickets. 

The pit in her stomach stretches- growing ever deeper and hollowing her insides out. Lottie knew the wolves went south, she should’ve kept tabs on them. She should have known her friends were walking into a death trap-  should have warned them or stopped them from going entirely. She could have if she really wanted to. 

Lottie gave Van that necklace, too - it was supposed to protect her but she’s the one they’re searching for, she’s the one too injured to make it back to the cabin herself. Did she do this to her? She didn’t have a full grasp on what effect her blood could have when combined with whatever supernatural occurrence kept that bone unscathed. Sure, her blood may be able to heal cuts and bruises, even a bite mark - though she only ever used it on the neighbors dog that one time (Sorry Moose) - but she’s never used it for protection before. 

She tried to control things she didn’t understand and now Van is bleeding out in the dark. At least she’s not alone. 

A flash of red peels into the sky, burning up into nothingness and vanishing. “It’s them” Laura Lee breathes. 

The labyrinth walls seem to recede as they run toward the source of the light. When they finally get to the pair, Lottie is sure Van is dead. It takes more than a few moments before she hears the faint thrumming of a heartbeat and lets out the breath she had been holding onto. Tai is coated in a layer of dirt and her eyes are bloodshot- from lack of sleep or crying she’s not sure. Van is a whole other story- her face is torn open, revealing a set of clenched teeth, stained bright red. Tai had wrapped cloth around her face, which is just barely keeping it together. It conceals some of the worst damage, but ivory bone still shows through torn muscle anywhere that isn’t veiled by blood-soaked cloth. Her breathing is incredibly shallow and ragged, like there could be damage to her windpipe or the severe amount of blood in her mouth is blocking her airways. 

Lottie’s at her side in seconds. “Prop her upright so she doesn’t asphyxiate on any blood she may have swallowed.” The air is metallic and thick, it clogs her throat and blurs the sides of her vision. The tunnel vision has its benefits though, she’s more focused than she’s been since the crash. She knows what to do- how to help. “Apply pressure to the bandages, they’re helping stop the bleeding but they won’t be enough” Shauna’s hands find their way to Van’s face, who flinches in response but doesn’t fight. She can feel the life seeping out through the gashes in Van’s face and chest, she doesn’t have it in her to fight. 

Lottie presses her palm firmly against Van’s chest and spreads out her fingers. “Van, you need to stay with me.” She closes her eyes and focuses on the faint thrumming, the gentle flow of blood through her heart to her arteries, then her veins, and back again. Not nearly enough of it is making it back, but her heart beats on. Quiet but steady, keeping her alive, even if just barely. She concentrates on that feeling, follows it- follows the path of the blood right to Van’s center. Her hand fuses with Van’s chest, pushing past the skin and muscle, pushing through her rib cage and to her heart, their veins molding and ligaments ripping apart and intertwining. Their blood melds into one homogenous lifeline. One entity; not human but not quite vampire either. 

Van gasps for air, sputtering and coughing up blood. Tai’s hands grip her shoulders as she ensures the redhead doesn’t choke. Lottie’s returned to the present, her eyes wide. She slowly lifts her palm from the surface of Van’s intact chest, fingers curling into a loose fist. Van’s heart is as loud as a jet engine now, hammering in her rib cage as if it could break free from her chest. 

“How did you do that?” Tai peers up at Lottie for a moment, shock and curiosity painting her face, but her attention is quickly returned to Van when she coughs again, blood and drool dripping down her mangled chin. Lottie stands up and stumbles back, her head beginning to reel. 

“We need to get her back.” Laura Lee steps forward, a hand resting reassuringly on Lottie’s back. They don’t have a stretcher, but the girls manage to prop Van up between them all, with Tai trailing behind, never letting go of her hand. Lottie lets the others take the majority of the weight, still lightheaded and dizzy, getting away from the clearing helps a bit. The air was thick and stagnant there, it smelled of more than just blood but of a certain imminent condemnation. 

≫------»

Lottie misses most of the makeshift surgery. When Akilah begins weaving a fishing hook through the soft tissue of Van’s cheek, the smell becomes overwhelming. Van’s grit-toothed shrieks make her ears ring and chest pound until she can hear nothing else. She’s not sure which is more disturbing, the scene itself or the fact that she’s salivating like a wild dog.

Her head knows, but her stomach does not.

And it hurts. Her stomach is in her throat and her head is screaming. Dirty nails dig into the sides of her head, claw at her ears in a desperate, animalistic attempt to turn off the noise, to stop the hunger. She keeps swallowing but it makes no difference, she’s practically drooling. It takes what little rationality she has left to keep her fangs sheathed. Her gums ache from the effort. 

This is when she blacks out. No one notices her get up, no one notices her stagger towards the door and shut it behind her. She wakes up the next morning wrapped in her blanket, face clean and belly full. 

≫------»

“Travis- this animal wasn’t diseased...” Nat’s voice is deep and gravelly, low in the way it gets when she’s trying to not let it crack - when she’s trying to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from breaking rank and streaking down her face. 

“Yeah no shit , the thing’s a fucking pelt - It’s literally hollowed from the inside out.” 

His eyes are huge and his face has grown pale, he looks like he might puke. It’s a similar appearance to how he looked when he saw Coach Martinez up in that tree, impaled, dripping blood onto Laura Lee, of all people. An alike image of her father flashes behind her eyes for a moment. She blinks it away. There’s no blood on this dear - or in it. Not anymore. Only one thing could leave a deer like this. A vampire. She really does have shit luck. Something about the past coming back to haunt you. 

“What the hell could’ve done this, Natalie?!” His voice is shaky, as if the gruesomeness of the scene has forced him into a vulnerable state, a prey animal. She pauses for a moment. That’s exactly it - they’re all prey. Every single girl back at the cabin, her family . If there are vampires in the wilderness, they’ll pick off what little family she has left one by one. No one is safe. And she’s the only one who knows how to deal with these what-  pests ? Well, pests destroy your property, they don’t typically hunt you down and suck your insides out like oversized spiders. But sure, if vampires are pests then dress her up in a pest control jumpsuit and hand her a can of raid. 

Not that her last encounter with a bloodsucker ended with particular success for her. 

“Don’t worry about it Travis, I’ll handle it.” 

“Don’t worry ? Seriously ?? That’s it?!” His panic is boiling over, pouring out through his mouth.  

“Travis I’m telling you, It’s better for you to not get involved. You’ll only get hurt.” And she means it, he may be frustrating to work with and stubborn as hell (and a little misogynistic but what man in her life isn’t), but she’d rather not see him emptied like a juice pouch - or with his neck twisted off. It’s not like he’d believe her if she told him, anyway. 

He scoffs, throwing his arms up in the air. “Fine, Nat whatever, deal with it yourself.” and storms off in the direction of the cabin.

She spends the rest of the day not hunting for food, but sticks. She picks solid oak trees, which aren’t too common in a pine forest, and sharpens their branches into fine points, just as her father once taught her. No, there’s no holy water or blessed weaponry up here, but a stake is a stake. 

She hunts twice as much now. Day and night. Daytime to feed the girls, nighttime to protect them. Really, she’s rarely not hunting which is probably why she hasn’t caught anything. She hasn’t slept in a week. It’s starting to get difficult to aim the barrel. Her fingers shake with a mixture of anxiety and fatigue on the trigger. 

Travis is no help either. He’s persistent; constantly asking about what she knows and what she’s not telling him. When he isn’t running his mouth, he’s got this look in his eyes that’s almost worse. Something between nausea and dread. Nat knows he hasn’t slept well in days, either. He tosses and turns in his sleep, receiving the occasional annoyed groan or whine from the girls who are close enough to be disturbed by him. Natalie listens while she waits, just as she has every night for the past week. She waits for the other girls to fall asleep. One by one, whispers of conversation are reduced to shallow breaths and the occasional snore. Eventually, even Travis stops his turning and his breath shallows, murmuring to himself in his sleep occasionally. 

It’s enough for her. She pulls her boots on, grabs the rifle, and slides the strap over her shoulder on her way out. She can see her breath at night now, every exhale is accompanied by a satisfying white cloud and an even more satisfying sting at the back of her throat. She always liked the cold, but she has a feeling that will be changing this year.She spends her nights trudging through sheets of pine needles and dirt. Cold barren trees loom over her, cutting up the night sky. Sometimes stars watch over her, sometimes they’re completely blocked by clouds and she is left in a shroud of darkness. And yet always, without fail, she finds no further traces of her prey. 

She doesn’t actually have a realistic plan of killing said ‘prey’ since she has no blessed weaponry or holy water. She’s been working on carving the stakes when no one is looking but they’re a rather old-fashioned form of weaponry and she’d have to get a pretty clear shot of the heart, which requires close range and a lot of force. Between the rifle and the stakes, she’ll figure something out. Whatever it takes.

≫------»

Lottie is awoken by a sharp metallic banging and the sound of Laura Lee yelling - which means it's serious because she never yells. 

“I have an announcement.”

She’s met with various groans and whines at the abrupt wake up call, but thanks everyone for their attention anyways, like she gave them much of a choice. 

“In light of the expedition ending as it did-” She sees Van shift uncomfortably in the corner of her vision. “I have decided that I’m going to take the dead guy’s plane and fly south. I’m going to find us help and I’m going to get us out of here.” She says it as a statement of fact. She is not to be argued with, her mind is made up. 

Confusion hits first, her head is still foggy with sleep. “You’re gonna fly..?” 

“You don’t know how,” Nat adds. 

“I’ve been studying the flight manual for weeks and I checked the gas tank, it’s full! I used to watch my grandpa fly, he even let me steer a few times. I know that I can do this.” No one argues but it’s obvious no one really believes her. “You can’t deny that Van needs serious medical attention.” 

“She’s not the only one.” Jackie speaks up and Shauna goes stiff as a corpse, brows knit and eyes locked on the blonde. A challenge. 

“Shauna, tell them.”

She’s known about Shauna for a while now. Whenever the room gets quiet and she can hear the other’s heartbeats like they’re her own; there’s an extra one, quiet and nearly unperceivable, but always there - or at least for the past month or so.

Shauna’s expression can only be described as pure shock. Her jaw drops and her brows unknit themselves and raise. She trips over her words, trying to back out of the spotlight Jackie Taylor has aimed precisely at her head. It’s too late, of course. Questions are already being raised and the girls press to be let in on whatever the pair isn’t telling them. No matter what she says or where she goes, the spotlight is trained on Shauna and will not budge, the center of attention. And- Is that, a smile tugging at the edge of Jackie’s lips?

“I’m pregnant.” 

It seals Laura Lee’s fate. 

The moment the words leave Shauna’s mouth two things happen:

First; light begins to faintly illuminate Laura Lee’s head. It casts a halo, sprawling out from behind her head like the depictions of the ‘Big Bang’ from science class. It turns the edges of her hair golden-white and silhouettes her against the dull cabin walls. Initially, This light is very faint, barely noticeable, but continuously grows brighter throughout the day. She’s seen this light before, in a dream somewhere. 

Second; a muffled static accompanies this light, whenever Laura Lee speaks or gets too close it grows steadily louder, like the rush of blood in her ears or the roaring of a waterfall.

The two in tandem act as a clock - a time bomb - counting down to something, she’s not sure what yet but she can tell she won’t like the result.  It itches at the back of her neck and tightens her skin over muscles uncomfortably, she feels antsy. She needs to say something, she needs to stop something from happening but she doesn’t know what it is- doesn’t know what to say. It frightens her. 

They spend the day picking up rocks and branches, cutting down foliage that had grown around the plane so Laura Lee would have a runway to take flight. It points in the direction of the lake, Lottie can see the plane soaring above it and slowly becoming a dot in her vision as it reaches the peaks on the other side. But that doesn’t feel right. She’s on the plane’s right wing, brushing off vines and leaves that had fallen down on it. The wings are rusted over, creak under her weight alone. She swallows hard and closes her eyes. 

Laura Lee knows what she’s doing. She’s got divine faith to protect her. God would never let his favorite disciple go out in such a way. 

She sees a stag in the shadows behind her eyelids. Beady eyes and outspread hands for antlers. It blinks at her slowly before being swallowed by the darkness. 

“You almost done up there, Lott? You’ve been sitting with your eyes shut for like ten minutes.”  Nat’s voice brings her back. She peeks over the side of the wing to see the blonde standing with one hand on her hip. “Damn it Nat, I was trying to keep the plane grounded.” She rolls her eyes playfully and a smile tugs at the corner of her lip, pushing down the imagery still swimming behind her eyes. 

She would love to keep the plane grounded, but her odds of stopping Laura Lee are… slim. She still has to try, though. Sliding down, she thanks Nat on the way. Who knows how long she would’ve been stuck in her “thoughts” if Nat had kept quiet. The blonde merely quirks her eyebrow in return. Lottie scans the clearing for Laura Lee. Golden hair - brighter than it should be - alerts her of the girl sitting to the side on a tree stump. She has the flight manual in one hand and a bible in the other.

“Laura Lee, please don’t do this.” It’s all she can get out without her voice splintering in her own mouth. When the girl looks up her eyes are like fire, the halo behind her head is like looking into the sun as a child - she knows she should look away, that it could burn holes in her retinas - but she can’t. 

“Lottie, I have to do this.” Her eyes soften and the tension between her brows unravels when she sees the pain in Lottie’s eyes. “This is our only real chance at getting out of here. I love you very much but not even you could stop me from doing this.” Lottie chokes back a sob. She feels gentle hands running through her hair. So this is happening. 

“You said my visions are from God- but I- I don’t know what they mean. You understand them- you can help me understand them. I can’t do it by myself. You said I wasn’t alone, that you were here to guide me- that it was your purpose.” 

Laura Lee places a comforting hand on the back of her head. “Lottie, this is how I’m supposed to help you. This is my purpose.” Her eyes brim with remorse but not regret. 

She opens her mouth to say something else but the syllables come out weird and choppy, like a voicemail with too much feedback. 

“I’m sorry- what did you say?” 

Static rings in her ears, loud enough to hurt. Claws dig into the back of her head and she pulls back in alarm. What she’s met with makes true terror coil in her stomach and repulsion rise in her chest. Laura Lee isn’t Laura Lee. A lamb stares back at her, with all seven of its gleaming black eyes. Its limbs are crooked and mangled, and when it opens its mouth to speak all she hears are static and bells. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, wills the beast away and prays for her friend back. The static and bells fade along with the searing in her head. When she opens her eyes again they’re no longer alone- or sitting to the side of the clearing. They’re standing, Laura Lee in the middle of a circle of their teammates, the plane behind them. She’s Laura Lee again, innocent and holy. Her smile is genuine, though Lottie still notices the steady shake of her hands before climbing into the pilot’s seat. She just makes out “This is my purpose” one last time, followed by what seems to be a faint trumpet noise in the back of her head before the world goes completely silent. 

She doesn’t hear the plane’s engine as it roars to life only feet away. She doesn’t hear the team shouting their goodbyes and goodlucks. She doesn’t hear the pine needles and fallen leaves crackle beneath her feet as they run after the plane. 

She does continue to hear the occasional trumpet though. It’s so faint she thinks she must be imagining it- how many times has she heard it now since Laura Lee closed the passenger side door? Seven maybe? 

The static returns, slowly but surely. Growing louder as the plane gets smaller. It’s getting brighter too- like when you’re lying in the sun with your eyes shut for a long time and finally open them. The world is all pale and blurry for a few moments. 

Cold water laps at her shoes. 

When the sky turns white, the world is silent. She moves in slow motion, girls around her fall to their knees. Her senses don’t return concurrently. 

She hears the scream before she feels it rip from her own throat. 

≫------»

Nat jolts awake. 

She fell asleep . It makes sense that her body would eventually force her to give into the temptation of rest - she’s fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally. She’s been avoiding thinking about Laura Lee. One task at a time; control what she can, ignore what she cannot. Keep the others alive. 

She jolts awake as soon as she’s conscious enough to realize she had fallen asleep in the first place. And of course, the one time she actually passes out one of the girls decides to go out for a midnight walk. Panic shoots up her spine to the base of her skull as she realizes who, Lottie . She always was a wanderer, but now is really not the time to be out late at night, especially alone. Nat prays that she just woke up and had to take a piss, that she’ll be back in a minute and in one piece. But she can’t risk it. 

In under a minute, she’s up and out the door, still sliding a stake through one of her belt loops. Lottie isn’t outside the cabin, she’s not around the back, either. 

It isn’t pitch black so it must be close to morning. It’s that cool gray-blue color that lights up the sky just before dawn, making it just light enough to see but just dark enough to trip over your own feet.

She starts running. 

“Lottie?? Lottie are you out here?! I know you’re probably just taking a piss or something but I need to know you’re okay.” She probably looks like an idiot, she almost hopes she doesn’t find Lottie because of the shame that would follow at panicking over someone taking an early morning leak. 

The trunks of the pines are beginning to blur together, tears stain her face and cold air stings her eyes and cheeks as she stumbles through the underbrush. 

She should have found her by now, she wouldn’t have gone this far from the cabin. 

It’s near the cliff that she finds what she’s looking for. In her fur coat, on her knees keeled over something Nat can’t quite make out. Dark hair cascading down, concealing the girl’s face and whatever it is that she’s bent over. 

“L-Lott…?” Her fingertips brush across smooth wood, whittled down to a sharp tip, dangling from a belt loop at her waste. 

The figure stiffens. 

Then slowly, it shifts and leans back to sit upright. Still refusing to face her. “Natalie…” Her voice is soft and trembles. It almost sounds like she knew Nat would find her, it was only a matter of time. Maybe Nat knew too, deep down. She almost could have missed it if her name weren’t whispered as a confession. 

“Lottie, look at me.” Nat’s voice is rough again, deep, but steady. The tears that streaked down her face as she ran, yelling and screaming for the brunette, have dried. She won’t break. Not before she knows . Not before she sees it. 

She already knows.

Lottie lifts her hand, lingering for a moment before slowly dragging the back of it across her mouth. It comes away red. “I can explain…” Silky dark hair reflects the light of dawn as it pierces the horizon beyond the cliffside. It falls over her shoulder as she turns her head, first to a side profile, eyes locked on the floor, then up at Nat. 

Her eyes are completely black, except for one pinpoint of light in her blown-out pupils. Sharp fangs dig into her bottom lip, stained and swollen from feeding. She looks almost innocent. Innocent and scared and lonely. A dog that played with a bird until it stopped moving, stood waiting on the back porch for its owners to fix the broken body. Like it doesn’t know what death is- like it doesn’t know it's permanent. But she does. She knows exactly what she’s doing. 

“What-” Her voice cracks. “What. the. fuck. Lottie.” The girl winces at first, looks away, then rises.  Natalie backs away. The stake is firmly pressed against her palm now, splinters digging beneath her nails. 

“ Well ?! Are you gonna explain yourself or what?” She laughs a bit, chokes on the sound. “You said you could? So what’s it gonna be then?!” Her eyes are beginning to well up again, her words don’t bite as she intends, and her teeth only cut her own tongue. She blinks hard and swallows against the rising heat in her throat. 

It’s betrayal. 

She was there. She was there that night. 

Lottie opens her mouth, then closes it. She drops the limp rodent at her feet with a dull thud . “You and I both know it's not something that can be controlled-” It’s a throaty confession, rough and deep like she’s choking back blood. Nat laughs harder, the tears threaten to spill over. 

Lottie’s brows furrow a bit. “I didn’t- I didn’t choose this, Natalie. I was born this way.” 

“Born a monster?! Yeah, I guess so. God, did you even see what you did to that fucking deer- you hollowed it from the inside out!” Lottie stiffens at this, she looks guilty, she looks confused. 

The humans are mad, they’re burying the bird in the backyard while the dog watches from its kennel.

“God- you fucking eat people .” Nat clenches the stake in her hand. “This whole time I’ve been out here trying to protect the girls in that cabin- trying to kill whatever bloodsucker was out here before it killed us- and it was you the whole time.” 

“I do not eat people. I would never hurt our friends.” Nat stares at the squirrel, then at Lottie’s blood-smeared mouth. “You’re covered in blood.” 

Lottie’s eyes light up a bit and she begins clawing at her mouth, embarrassed- or ashamed. It triggers her to start rambling. “I know you don’t trust me- and you have every right to feel that way with what you’ve gone through.” Natalie stiffens. “But I swear I have never fed on a person- and I don’t plan to. I would rather die before I’d turn on any member of our team. I have to hunt to survive… before this I- I had pills but with the crash- I don’t have another choice . It’s hunt or die. You must understand that, Nat. You’re a hunter too- we aren’t so different.” 

“We are different. I don’t suck my food dry like a fucking human-spider. I should kill you- the girls aren’t safe as long as you're alive. Talking and sleeping next to them, pretending to eat with them. You’re a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, even if you are telling the truth who knows when you’ll snap.” 

“Yeah.” Lottie sighs, giving up on her explanation. “ What ?” 

“You’re right. You’re right about everything you said. So yeah, if it makes you feel better, feel free to kill me. It was bound to happen at some point anyways - can’t live on squirrels forever, right?” She looks lost, adrift. Why would she just give up like that?

“If it makes me feel better?” Nat scoffs, but her grip on the stake is loose. “What kind of response is that? You’re just gonna give up?” She knows this is her chance at redemption - not only to prove that she can kill the threat before it's too late, but that she can actually protect the people she cares about for once. If she doesn’t, she could die- her friends could die. But then why- why is her enemy giving up without a fight - and why does it look like her friend?

Looks can be deceiving, she knows this - better than anyone. 

But it’s the same as before, when she looks up she doesn’t see a monster, even with the blood still drying on her mouth and hand, even with her pupils just now returning to normal size - she sees a girl. A girl she’s known for years . Maybe she’s never known her at all. Maybe it was all an elaborate scheme and those sad eyes disguise an animalistic lust for bloodshed. But Natalie Scatorccio is a girl with too much empathy for her own good and Lottie Matthews is ever one to be empathized with. 

In the end, she’s no better than before. She can’t punish the dog for a crime it didn’t know it committed. Even if it should’ve known. Even if it’ll do it again. 

She can’t kill her friend. She can't even leave the girl on the cliffside. She looks too broken, too familiar. They walk back to the cabin in silence. 

Chapter Text

The room is lit by nothing more than candlelight. It casts a warm glow on the distraught and resigned faces of the girls scattered around the room, most quietly thinking. Wide, sleep-deprived eyes reflect the candlelight. They’re contemplating the rest of their lives, their deaths. Every attempt at escaping these woods, finding civilization has led to disaster. Some might say it’s not a coincidence. 

Those who can turn off their thoughts long enough to drift off are quickly awoken by Van’s occasional whimpers as each new wave of pain hits. She shakes when they remise, awaiting their certain return. Lottie suggests that Van is moved to sit upright instead of lying flat on the table, now that she’s awake, to help her lungs drain any built-up fluid and ensure she doesn’t choke on it in the process. Tai helps her move her, supporting half her weight as Van stumbles to the nearest bench against the cabin wall. 

As Lottie begins to turn away, back to her pile of blankets, she’s stopped by a shaky touch on her wrist. “Lott, you told me not to take off the necklace…that it would protect me.” Her words are soft, muffled by fresh cloth, changed after they sewed her face back together with fishing line. 

“Van- I know I’m- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She has every instinct to shush the girl, to wrap her arms around her head and gently rock her into a shallow sleep. She shouldn’t be talking- she could rip her stitches - or skin - but she doesn’t have the chance to do either of these things. “I took it off to sleep. When I woke up we were surrounded.” Tears decorate her blood-reddened eyes. Lottie catches her breath, she took it off . “I should’ve been more careful- I should have listened .” 

A pang jabs at Lottie’s chest. “No- no Van this is not your fault. You couldn’t have known.” 

“But you knew and you told me. I should’ve taken you more seriously- ” She rubs circles into Van’s back instinctually at the girl’s panic. She didn’t know. She had no idea what that pendant would do. “Hey- it’s okay-” “How did you know?” Muffled again, quiet, almost a whisper. “Lot, how did you know it would protect us?” She meets Lottie’s gaze now, eyes wide. 

“I don’t know Van… I just had a feeling.” 

Chapter Text

Lottie tries to avoid Nat’s eyes in the coming days. They follow her everywhere she goes, boring holes in the back of her head. On the occasion that she dares to meet the blonde’s stare, she often finds Nat watching her hands or mouth closely, as if waiting for her claws or fangs to unsheath, waiting for when she will inevitably have to put Lottie down. 

They try to act normal around the others, like nothing happened, like they’re friends instead of generationally bound adversaries. Like they still trust each other. 

When the girls suggest a party, Lottie plays along. Nat knows the game too, she can play it just as well. She’s had to hide her second life as much as Lottie has, both can keep a secret. Lottie suggests the name ‘Doomcoming’ and Nat laughs, announcing her enthusiasm at the notion, though there’s a bite to her words. Lottie knows she’s lying. She can hear her heart rate spike, see the pulse quicken in her neck. Nat quickly regains composure and it stabilizes. No weakness left exposed, nothing left raw for Lottie to pick at. 

They dress up nonetheless, do their makeup and spare only glances toward each other. Nat zips her up with stiff hands that send shivers down her spine. It’s an odd feeling; to be so visible to someone besides her family… she’s used to living life behind the mask of a human. She’d often felt alone. She’d hated it, wanted nothing more than to be truly seen. Now she can’t escape it.

Nat’s calloused fingertips rest against the base of her neck briefly, she runs the tag between her thumb and index. Where Laura Lee’s name is still written in fading sharpie. 

“Did you know…?” Nat asks quietly from behind her. Her words are muffled by the dead air. Lottie turns slowly only to realize that It’s the first time in days that Nat isn’t looking at her. Now her eyes are trained securely on the floor. She’s scared to hear the answer- but desperate to . 

She knows what Nat means… it’s surely been on Nat’s mind since she found out about Lottie. She was there the night that Nat’s father died… to a vampire. To her cousin to be exact. She chews on the side of her cheek, thinking. “Not exactly… I thought it was odd you were in the woods by yourself, you looked like you’d seen a ghost. I thought maybe something had happened but…” She trails off for a moment, hesitating. Nat’s eyes flicker up for an instant. 

“I never would’ve guessed that … I didn’t find out until the next morning. My relatives were heading home and my cousin still hadn’t turned up. We spent the day searching the woods until we found him. Well, both of them.” 

Nat’s quiet. She doesn’t meet her gaze this time, eyes cast in the shadow of her bangs. Lottie thinks she sees her shoulders shudder a bit but it may be the lighting. 

“Why haven’t you told them?” Lottie whispers. 

“I still could.” She won’t.

“They wouldn’t believe me even if I did. They’d think the drugs finally got to my brain or something, or that I have like delayed brain damage from the crash.” Lottie almost giggles at that, but it feels weird in her throat and never makes it off her tongue. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

≫------»

Nat watches as her teammates pass under their makeshift arch in sets of two as Javi bangs the scrap-metal gong. Every so often she spares Lottie a glance. She could’ve taken her out that night, it would’ve been easier with no one watching… it wouldn’t make sense for Lottie to attack now but who knows, maybe she’s just waiting for Nat’s guard to drop. Maybe the next time Nat drifts off will be the last time. She’d like to believe Lottie doesn’t have it in her, but one’s nature changes when they’re hungry enough. 

So she doesn’t let her guard down. She keeps her head up as high as her walls, she doesn’t sleep and she keeps at least two stakes on her at all times. There’s not much space to hide them beneath her dress so she’s opted to hide them throughout the clearing. One tucked into the roots of the oak on the right of the archway, one beneath the fallen trunk, one in the bushes behind her. It’ll have to be good enough. 

When Tai and Van walk in, hand in hand, she feels a spark in her chest. Hope, maybe. The clearing is filled with laughter and cheering when they kiss. Most already knew but for them to finally be open about it - it means something - especially after keeping it secret for so long. She’s happy for Van, she deserves that kind of love. 

Nat sips on her drink, chunks of berries sit at the bottom of her cup and a frothy film has formed at the top. It stain her lips a deep crimson and leaves foam on her upper lip. She’s not sure it fermented correctly and it could definitely use a strain, but she’s had worse moonshine. 

“Nat” Van snorts “You’ve got a berry mustache” 

She wipes at her face with the inside of her arm but can’t help cracking a smile “How much of that shit have you had?”

“Not enough” She sighs “Mari this shit is weak you really need to do better with the resources you have” 

Mari flips her the bird. “Yeah? Well why don’t you do it next time then, Vanessa ”

Van makes a face at her full name being used and Mari snickers.

She finds herself drifting, listening to various groups talk about how they miss boys, or how they would’ve won nationals, or how sleeping on the cabin floor is killing their backs. She joins in a few times when she has something to say but never stays for long. Lottie’s been sitting on a log by the fire for a while now. She looks lost in thought. 

“FOOD!” Mari yells from the table they’ve dragged over from the cabin. Beige liquid drips from the ladle as she scoops the soup into a bowl. Everyone migrates to the table, holding an array of bowls, mugs, and cups. “God finally I’m fucking starving over here” Van whines. “Yeah that tends to happen when you get stranded in the canadian wilderness” Gen remarks, rolling her eyes to Melissa. 

“Well maybe if someone would actually catch something for once.” Her ears begin to grow hot. “Hey, Tai-” Van begins regretfully, reaching for her wrist.

“You’re welcome to the rifle whenever you feel inclined to get off your ass .” Nat snaps, cutting her off. She begins to turn away as a scowl paints Tai’s face, suddenly not hungry anymore. 

“Stop .” She does and looks up, forgetting why she was angry. The hair on the back of her neck raises as she’s met with a now-standing Lottie. She’s tall. She’s always been tall but something about the crown of sticks that wreath her head makes her look taller. Menacing. 

“We should have a moment of silence for Laura Lee.” But she doesn’t sound menacing - or even irritated. She sounds sad. It pulls at something deep in Nat’s chest, empathy she guesses. She hadn’t thought much of Laura Lee recently, not after finding the pelt, not after finding out about Lottie. 

It definitely sullied the mood though, the girls stare ashenly at Lottie or the floor. Others stand awkwardly, waiting for a cue that they can return to their faux normalcy. 

“To Laura Lee” Tai raises her cup. 

Others chime in, celebrating Laura Lee’s life, mourning her death. Lottie takes a swig and it's over. She sits back down and gazes into the fire.

It intrigues Nat. Laura Lee and Lottie were… inseparable. It doesn’t make sense. Laura Lee was a god-fearing, well more like loving , traditional catholic girl. She dressed modestly and spoke kindly. She never led her friends astray and never strayed herself. How could she find good company in Lottie? 

…Laura Lee was never one to pass judgement. She’s always heard Jesus ate with the wicked. She probably just didn’t know any better. 

But Lottie… it wouldn’t make sense to put herself so close to danger, to being discovered. It could act as a good disguise but its not like the average person would guess vampire anyways. It seems pointlessly reckless. Why would she willingly fly so close to the sun? Not to mention she seems… genuinely saddened. She just sits, and stares pensively into the flames, unmoving spare the occasional slow blink. 

She’s wearing Laura Lee’s dress. Her throat tightens. 

She grabs two bowls, still warm to the touch, and makes her way to the log. 

She places hers on the floor, next to the log, then holds out the other. An offering of sorts. It seems to break Lottie from her trance. She slowly pears up at the bowl in her outstretched hand, then at Nat. She’s confused, a coy smirk lifting the corners of her mouth. It says What are you doing? You know I can’t eat this. Suddenly, fear flashes behind her eyes and her face falls 

“Don’t worry- you uh you don’t have to eat it.” She quickly explains. “For warmth.” 

Lottie reaches out tentatively, hands cupping the tepid ceramic. She lowers the bowl to rest in her lap. Nat sits next to her. Not touching, but almost. 

They’re quiet for a time. 

“I’m sorry about Laura Lee.” She starts. “She really was the best of us.” Lottie looks at her then, baffled. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something but closes it a moment later. 

Her fingers tingle as she remembers each of the locations she preemptively stashed stakes throughout the clearing. She pushed the thought down.

“...You loved her, didn’t you.” Lottie stiffens. 

“She could’ve gotten you killed.” “She would never. ” Her voice is stern. Like a warning. 

“I don’t mean purposefully… but her family… her attachment to the church. There are strong connections between hunters and the church, but I’m sure you already knew that.” Lottie’s jaw clenches and she stares down at the soup, her reflection looking back at her, foggy and distorted. 

“She didn’t know. You never told her.” 

“How could I…” For a moment, Nat understands her. They alone live in a separate world, hidden from the eyes of others. It’s isolating. Others can never know about them for their own safety… but Lottie seems to harbor no concern for her own safety. Her sense of self-preservation long gone. But then how could an apex predator fear the judgment of a human? 

She looks down at her calloused hands. There’s dirt buried deep beneath her nails that she could never quite claw out. She recalls the thud of Lottie’s cousin hitting the floor, followed by a second thud of a shotgun. 

“I did love her. I was going to tell her… I just didn’t get the chance.” Lottie takes a long sip of the soup and grimaces. “I need a cigarette.” She stands abruptly and turns away, leaving the bowl on the gnarled wood behind her. 

≫------»

Nat finishes her dinner and joins the team as they sing and dance until the sun begins to set. Lottie isn’t there, Nat doesn’t look for her. 

Her body feels warm, like the campfire is inside of her instead of the firewood, licking at her ribcage and warming her bones. Everything is a little slow, a little funny. The girls twist and turn, moving like firelight, like shadows flickering across the wall of a cave. She looks up and is met with dark clouds, blocking out what little light still touched the sky. The clouds dance too, curl in on themselves and reach down to kiss the pines. Beckoning the evergreens to break free of the skyline and join them above. 

A branch high above her bends down and tickles her nose with its nettles. It dawns on her that she knows this feeling. The soup… someone puts shrooms in the soup. Who the fuck had shrooms? Why didn’t she know about them?

She bursts out laughing. Someone- put shrooms in the soup . The others laugh with her - at her - she isn’t sure. It doesn’t matter. She nearly trips over Javi on her way to the treeline. 

She’s not sure what she’s looking for until she finds it. Lottie, laid across the sprawling roots of a sycamore tree, leaves already turning brown, littering the forest floor. Her head is hunched, her eyes closed. Nat stumbles over to her, nearly falling to the floor beside her. 

“Nat? The fuck happened to you.” a smile pulls at the corners of Nat’s mouth. She bites her bottom lip. “Someone put shrooms in the soup.” She overemphasizes ‘shrooms’, tossing her arms in the air and sinking further against the tree.

“Oh god.” 

“They must’ve been thinking of me or something.” Nat closes her eyes and smiles up at the canopy. “I’m sure.” Lottie just shakes her head.

They lay there a while, Nat smiling up at the canopy or humming to herself, Lottie watching her like she has a chance of figuring her out. 

Eventually Lottie clears her throat and speaks. “I’ve never drank the blood of a human. I did not lie about that.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Nat hums. She attempts a sigh but it feels weird in her mouth. Like cotton. “I just haven’t figured out why yet.” She says it to no one but herself. 

“Probably because I actually like you guys or something.” Lottie rolls her eyes in the corner of Nat’s vision. They look weirdly black in this lighting. “I’m still trying to figure out why you haven’t just killed me yet.” 

“Yeah, me too” Nat snorts. 

Lottie turns on her side, one hand resting beneath her cheek to keep her upright. Her brow is furrowed, like she’s reading every thought Nat’s ever had. It’s exposing but she doesn’t tense. The drugs have pulled her into a comfortable lull and the brunette’s eyes are no longer so unwelcome. She meets them, mimicking her furrowed brow. And this time her eyes are black. 

“You know you can’t stay awake forever.  I’m not even sure it’s possible for a vampire but it definitely isn’t for you.” 

“What?” 

“I know you haven’t been sleeping, you stay up all night watching me. I can hear your heartbeat, it never slows, even when you shallow your breath. You’ll have to sleep eventually” 

“Right…” Nat yawns on cue. 

She vaguely remembers having a need to stay awake but she can’t seem to grasp the severity of it - or why she’s even trying to hold her eyelids open anymore. Her belly is full and her body is warm. The ground pulls at her dress and the crown on her head suddenly weighs down her head. 

As her eyes shut she feels her forehead rest on silk. She feels safe for the first time in months. 

≫------»

Flames dance across her vision. They tickle her nose but never quite touch her, never burn her. She closes her eyes to them and slowly, the warmth begins to pool in her stomach, draining from her face and swirling in her chest. Her head reels and brain fogs, ears hot and fingers tingly. She’s against a tree, head upright and legs splayed in the grass. The bark isn’t rough on her skin or hard on her neck, it’s as comfortable her bed at home. 

Something hot trickles down her neck and pools on her collarbone. Lips detach from her neck and a tongue chases the hot liquid, swiping up her neck and leaving her chilled, missing the warmth they provided. Her breath catches. Her eyes flash open to dark hair and darker eyes. Her mouth is dry but she can’t move. Won’t move? Her mouth returns to Nat’s neck, sucking gently on the bite marks like she’s coaxing the blood to flow. Another wave washes over her - it's a different kind of warmth. Her head lulls to the side to allow for better access and a hand comes up to cup her jaw, a reward. She doesn’t know why she’s letting this happen - she should fight it, right? She can’t remember why though. Even as the blood drains from her face she can’t find it in herself to be scared, the fingers that graze her cheek are soft, reassuring. She is safe, Lottie wouldn’t hurt her. 

Lottie…

Her nails are digging into scalp, pressing the back of Lottie’s head into her neck. Further. Deeper. It’s not enough. She needs her closer. She can feel the fangs in her neck, they don’t cut her - they’re a part of her. She wants that.  

To be a part of her. 

She’s gasping for air, her lungs are filled with a thick liquid and her throat is congealed. Her mouth tastes of iron, she wheezes and coughs but the clot in her throat won’t let up and she can’t seem to clear her airways. Her vision is blurry and dark but she lashes out at anything she can reach. She feels skin ripping beneath her nails - someone elses’. Maybe her own. 

Claws pierce her shoulders, hold her in place, forcing her underwater. She’ll aspirate on her own blood - she’ll drown on dry land. Her heart pounds in her ears, she can’t hear anything else. Her head is hot and spinning.

There’s a voice too, somewhere buried beneath the sound of her heartbeat, the sound of her own desparate attempts to breath. She screams - kicks her legs out, tearing the claws from her shoulders, shoving the weight off her chest. 

She rakes at her throat, her mouth, her eyes. 

Hands fold around hers, gentle but firm. Wrestling them away from her face. She’ll die. She can’t breath. 

“Nat- Nat you need to wake up- I know you’re there.” She fights it. Struggles against the constraints, thashing her head and pulling her hands back to her chest with all her force. Trying to regain control in any way she can. Trying to get away. 

“Let go ” 

“No! Not if you’re going to hurt yourself. I won’t let go until you calm down” 

She kicks out again, her boot finds purchase in the girls’ side. She hears Lottie gasp for air. The grip on her wrists falters and she manages to tear one free, immediately putting as much force into a blow that she can muster. She hits her square in the trachea. It seems to do the trick because Nat’s other wrist is set free and Lottie begins coughing uncontrollably. 

Neither of them can breath now, but her fight or flight has officially kicked in and god she’s done with running. She reaches out and gets a hand around the girl’s arm, pinning it to the floor. She’s on top of her, straddling her mid-section and blindly driving her fists into the mass beneath her. Some of them land, some don’t. She’s getting weak, her chest is still tight and her limbs are exhausted. 

She feels pressure against her chest. It’s light, the touch delicate. Splayed fingers brush the base of her collar bone. She falters.

“There you are ” Lottie breathes, her voice guttural. 

Nat doesn’t reply. She’s heaving, raw knuckles dig into the chilled dirt at Lottie’s sides. 

“Nat.” She lets out between irregular gasps for air and groans of pain. “I don’t know what’s happening.” She whimpers. 

“I know. You’re okay. We’re okay.” Lottie soothes.

“What did you do to me? ” 

There’s a pause before Lottie slowly curls her fingers in and removes them from her chest. “I didn’t do anything… Nat you’re dreaming . Open your eyes.”

“I can’t - I can’t breathe, Lott, there’s blood- ” She chokes on her own words.

“Yes you can. You can breathe. I’ll do it with you. But you have to try to open your eyes.” 

She knits her brow and concentrates. Ignores the coagulum blocking her throat, ignores the stinging in her knuckles, and pries her eyes open. Her vision is hazey at first, spinning and clouded. But it fades. Lottie is beneath her, panting and battered. There’s streaks of red in her hair and dirt is smeared across her cheeks. A bruise is beginning to form near the hem of her shirt and her lip is split open. Her crown is crooked and some of the spires have cracked off, but it’s held on through the barrage. She’s flushed, she looks alive. 

“Good, good job.” 

Nat’s mouth hangs open. “Now breathe with me.” And she does. In and out, holding it for 10 seconds before exhaling. Each inhale is a fight. The air is thick and burns on the way in, she grits her teeth as she holds it in, hisses as it leaves her. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

Eventually, the air stops stinging. Her lungs don’t feel so tight and she doesn’t feel like she’s gurgling her own blood. She’s left sore. Sore and ashamed. 

It wasn’t real… It was a hallucination. Wouldn’t be her first bad trip. Fucking shrooms.

The back of her neck tingles and her ears grow hot. Why would her mind show her that. No… this is different. It has to be. This couldn’t have just been her. It’s Lottie… trying to get under her skin, get in her head. She isn’t sure that’s something vampires can do, but day-walkers have all sorts of powers. It’s all just speculation… but it’s certainly possible. 

She slides off of Lottie, head landing back on the bark beside her. Lottie wipes the blood trail leaking from her nose and lets out a hoarse chuckle. She looks away. 

“Thank god I can’t do shrooms if that’s what they do.” Nat doesn’t laugh. 

“What’s your game here.” She stands. 

“I- what ?” 

“I know you did something to my head” She spits. 

“Nat- you attacked me. What the hell are you talking about?!” 

“You made me see that shit. You’re trying to like manipulate me or something. I’ve dealt with enough of that bullshit in my life. Do not. Try to control me like that.” 

Lottie lets her head hit the trunk behind her, defeated. “Nat it was the shrooms - you said it yourself the soup was drugged. Probably Misty or something, you know how she is.” 

Nat scoffs.

“If I was trying to take advantage of you wouldn’t I have just killed you while you were asleep? Have I so much as bared a fang at you once ? At anyone?!” She throws her hands up, frustrated. “What did you even see anyways?”

Nat’s heart jumps to her throat, she implores it to calm. She knows Lottie can hear it. She opens her mouth to make up an excuse- anything really- when she’s interrupted by… howling ?

“What was that..?” 

Lottie’s up. Distant hollering wafts between the foliage, along with various animal calls and laughter. It sounds… off.  

“Something is wrong.” 

She feels a shiver run up her spine. Lottie is quiet for a moment, eyes on the ground like she’s focusing, on what Nat isn’t sure. Her expression is unreadable, scarcely illuminated by shafts of pale blue moonlight. Her hair is silhouetted, creating a thin white halo that contrasts their dimly lit surroundings.

She looks up then, jaw set and eyes hardened with a sort of certainty. 

“Something is coming.” 

≫------»

The searing in Lottie's lungs has made its way up to her throat and a stabbing has begun in her side. It urges her to slow but she pushes against it. She can hear Nat panting behind her, struggling to keep pace. It’s probably harder for her, her body doesn’t have regeneration factors fighting the exhaustion.. and she’s still coming off the high. She’s trained, this isn’t new to her Lottie reminds herself. 

A stake splinters into Nat’s hand, she had grabbed one that was stashed nearby on the way. Just in case she had said. Lottie knew it was there, but her fangs will probably do a bit more than a stake if it comes down to it. Hopefully it won't.  

The animal calls died down a while ago, they were headed in the direction of the cabin, so that’s the direction they’re running. As they get closer though, the noise starts back up again. It’s quiet first; The sound of a door thrown open, heavy footsteps with the occasional stumble, panting. Lottie veers to follow it, she isn’t alone. More footsteps follow the first set, it sounds like a herd - or a pack. The occasional shout starts up again, but it’s not like before. They’re attentive now, they’re chasing . 

The chasing is precise, it’s more like corralling or herding. They’re headed back to the doomcoming clearing. They can easily intercept the chase, meet them at the clearing. It’s more brightly lit there Nat will be able to see. 

Nat doesn’t question her path alteration, she’s smart enough to realize Lottie knows where she’s going. Smart enough to trust her in this case, too.

For a moment, the first pair of footsteps sounds foreign, not like two feet but like four. They clop across the forest floor in a frantic gallop. A scared prey animal. She ignores it. 

“HELP ”

She stops. Nat almost runs into her, just barely putting her arms out fast enough to brace herself against Lottie’s back. “Wh-what?” She pants. 

“It’s Jackie. She’s calling for help from the cabin.” “O-Okay?” “Someone is getting chased in the other direction… I think it’s Travis.” 

“Chased?! What the hell is going on… shit. The shrooms.” Nat sways on her feet for a moment, like she can’t bear to stand still. “ Fuck-! ” She lifts her hands to her head, running them over her face and through her hairline. 

She makes a decision. 

“I’ll go after them. You’re still coming off the high… and you’re hardly armed.” 

“Lottie… you haven’t eaten in at least a week. Plus I just beat the shit out of you-” 

“I can go a lot longer than that,” Lottie replies, factually, calmly. She shifts her face so the moonlight reflects off her cheek, bruised and bloody just minutes ago. A faint purplish-yellow mark remains, already fizzing out across her cheekbones. 

“Go. Help Jackie. Meet me in the doomcoming clearing when you’re done, it’s where they’re headed.” 

Nat stops herself before she can protest. Her lips are sealed in a thin line and she looks uncertain for a moment before nodding curtly and turning back in the direction of the cabin. She’s gone before Lottie can blink. 

She lets out an exhale and refocuses. She flushes her mind, feeling the tingling of regeneration across her collarbone and cheek for just a moment. She closes her eyes and listens, there’s still the sound of girls trampling through the woods, maybe it’s animals now… but she could’ve sworn she heard her friends. Mari shouting, Shauna growling under her breath…. She scrunches her eyes more. Focus. 

Their calls are louder as they get closer. They’re laced with excitement; would-be over-confidence, if only they weren’t directly on Travis’ tail. She doesn’t have much time. She forces herself to sprint for as long as possible, it’s taxing on her lungs and legs. But for as long as she can keep it up she can cover far more ground than the average human in far less time. She limits her exhales, takes larger, more concentrated inhales and holds it for longer, forcing herself to release the air slowly. 

They catch him before she gets there, she hears him collapse to the floor followed by an uproar of approval. The noise is muffled as they restrain his limbs and drag him to the clearing. She’s close enough to pick up on Travis’ pleas now, though. Her mouth feels dry. The trees seem to grow too close as she runs now. Their trunks nearly growing into eachother, their roots trying to trip her and their branches trying to ensare her.

She makes it to the clearing as they finish stuffing Travis into the hollow tree trunk. He’s shirtless and filthy, blood is smeared across his mouth and his eyes are wild as he fights against the restraints. He’s terrified.

Her fingers twitch. 

“Lottie!” Shauna addresses her presence, coming over gingerly, each step cautious. As if she’s still stalking her prey. As if the hunt isn’t quite finished. She’s gripping her butcher’s knife at her side. 

“You made it.” She refuses to meet Lottie’s gaze. There’s something odd about her mannerisms, they’re borderline animalistic. Her eyes keep darting between Travis, the other girls, and the floor at Lottie’s feet. Recognition tingles at the back of her skull. 

“We caught it. We caught the stag. We won’t be hungry anymore” Shauna tilts her head to the side, her eyes briefly flicker up to meet Lottie’s as a the corner of her mouth tugs into a brief smile. It feels like appeasement, almost. She’s seeking some form of approval, or even praise . 

Why from her? 

Lottie frowns in confusion for a moment. It was the wrong reaction;  It triggers a fear response in Shauna, as though she’s defensive. Her mouth drops open and she quickly glances back at the floor, lowering her head and stepping to the side for Lottie to pass. 

Her eyes fall back to Travis and she begins walking forward cautiously. The other girls watch her with a sort of morbid curiosity - like vultures watching an animal as it crosses the highway. 

Shauna called him a stag . 

She scans over him, his skin lit a sickly orange in the torch-like. Eyes alight in the flame. They dart back and forth violently. There’s a pine cone stuffed in his mouth like a gag, he’s biting down on it with a fervor, like he’s trying to chew through it. He probably is . 

Desperation breeds tenacity. 

He’s breathing sharply through his nose, shallow inhales followed by rapid, heavy exhales. Sweat beads on his brow, his whole body is tense. He’s in fight or flight with nowhere to run.

He’s a pinned animal. The firelight swirls across his skin, creating shadows where they don’t belong. His skin looks like fur and his bloodshot eyes seem to morph, his pupils elongating into oblong slits. She runs a hand across him jawline, lifting his chin to peer into them. His breath stutters at the touch, he strains to pull away. 

Her hand sinks into the soft underside of a buck’s cheek. It’s wet nose glistens as it scrunches it’s face in fear. Her fingers skim across it’s velvety ears, flicking to indicate it’s alert and listening. It’s horns cast a long shadow that fans out, melding with the gangly shadows of nearby larches. 

She tears her eyes away. As she looks back to the girls, their appearance is disconcerting. Their joints bend at  angles and their eyes appear as empty sockets. They whisper to each other, but never open their mouths to speak. Mari lifts a headdress, her headdress. She vaguely remembers creating it with the girls when they were decorating for doomcoming. It doesn’t look so innocent now. The white bone of a deer skull gleams beneath netting, draped over the antlers like shedding velvet. Her figure wavers as she approaches, shifting in the rays of light cast down between the canopy. She places the crown on Lottie’s head, the skull weighing it down, digging into her skin. It feels like thorns. She runs her palms along the smooth expanse of the antlers, across each divot and tine. 

As Mari retreats Shauna’s patience seems to dwindle. Her knife glints as she creeps forwards, holding it outstretched, as an offering. Lottie’s feet have grown roots as the girl approaches, she cannot move, forward or back. Her arm lifts, as if pulled by strings, and her fingers enclose around the hilt. 

Lottie finds that she isn’t frightened, though. She isn’t frightened, or angry, or even sullen. She isn’t excited either, it’s hard to say how she feels. Her chest feels rather empty, her heart slow. She’s addled, and just a touch curious. 

She inspects the knife, tilting the blade and observing the sheen, feeing the weight in her palm. But she is not the butcher. 

Shauna watches her, her gaze beseeching and her heart wild. She’s waiting. Waiting for acknowledgment, for recognition. Waiting for the order that hangs on Lottie’s tongue. The anticipation is dripping off her limbs, her face. Time is slow as Lottie’s eyes shift to the stag, to Travis . It’s slow as her grip on the knife’s hilt loosens. She only hears Shauna’s heart, pounding in her ears. It’s drowns out everything else. 

She does not hear Nat or Jackie approaching. She had forgotten about them entirely. 

“What the fuck?! Stop! ” She’s shoved aside before she knows what’s happening, the knife falling to the dirt instead of passing to Shauna’s outstretched hands. Nat dives for it. 

She’s up as fast as she was down, pointing the blade at Lottie, bretrayal splayed across her face. “Are you serious?! I left for two fucking seconds and you’re trying to sacrafice Travis?!” Lottie’s face pinches in muddled confusion. “Travis… but- It wants us to.” 

“It? The fuck are you talking about” She spits. 

Lottie isn’t speaking from her head, but a deeper feeling, something she knows . Something she’s always known- even if she doesn’t quite understand it yet. “It’s in all of us. Even him. Even you.” She’s certain of this.

Jackie removes the gag from Travis’ mouths and begins untying him, he’s panting and red- from fear or shame she isn’t sure. As she notices this, panic begins to rise in her chest. It’s hot in her chest and numbingly cold in her limbs. No. We need him. 

“That’s enough of your weird fucking bullshit Lottie .” Nat snarls, stepping forward. 

Lottie pivots, reaching out to grip the wrist holding the knife out. She has to communicate the urgency of their situation to Nat- they’ll starve without this. They’re letting the stag go- they can’t just let it go. 

She isn’t given the chance, as soon as her fingers enclose on Nat’s wrist she’s shoved to the floor. Her crown slips and she cracks. Tears well in her eyes, darkened by her own blood. Her vision is red. There’s buzzing in her ears, bees or flies she can’t tell. But it’s loud enough to burst her eardrums and pierce her skull. 

“We need this. We need him! ” Nat looks at her with bewilderment and pure disgust. Lottie starts laughing - panicked, ludicrous, uncontrollable laughter. She’s completely hysterical, but she can’t stop. Travis and Jackie are gone now. Most of the other girls scattered like roaches when the lights turn on.

“How can you not hear them? How can you not feel it? We’re going to starve- They’re trying to save us! Why can’t you just listen?!” 

Nat tightens her grip on the blade, she looks paler than usual. She steps back, slowly, one foot at a time. Lottie doesn’t stop calling to her, even as she turns after Travis, even as she runs away. 

Lottie’s face is stained crimson from her tears. The swarm managed to work its way into her body, vibrating against her stomach lining, hollowing her out to build their hive. 

They eat away at her and call it a housewarming.

Chapter Text

Nat had stumbled back to the cabin that night, exhausted, Travis just barely out of sight ahead of her. He was no where to be found once she got there and she didn’t have it in her to look. Instead, she collapsed into her blankets and covered her head. 

She didn’t know what to think so she had decided not to - just for the night. 

She could sleep for the time being, with no one to protect.

The next morning, she catches Travis scrubbing off the dirt and blood from his face. She probably doesn’t look much better. He turns from her, refusing to meet her eyes, and begins to storm off into the woods. 

“Travis- slow down, can we talk?” She reaches for his arm, which he tears away. She needs to know what happened before she got there- what they did to him. She never should’ve trusted Lottie- how could she let her guard down so quickly? She risked the lives of not just Travis, but all of her teammates. 

“No.” He grunts. Travis stays a steady meter ahead of her, fists balled, pushing ahead. 

“Travis. Stop- Jesus Christ- can you stop for one minute?!” He finally stops, shoulders raised, back straight, fingers turning white at his sides. He doesn’t turn around. “What. What the fuck do you want?”  

“Don’t you want to talk about what happened…?” 

“I really don’t give a shit right now. I just want to find Javi and I want you to leave me alone.” Shit… she hasn’t seen Javi since the beginning of Doomcoming. She never even noticed. 

“Fuck… Javi ran off last night.” “Yeah no shit he ran off- he’s probably safer out there than with you psychos.” 

“Okay- well, I wasn’t the one holding the knife so I’m not sure why you’re pissed at me right now.” 

She can practically see the tension rising off of him. The tips of his ears grow read, but he’s quiet once more. She feels a pang of remorse. 

She sighs. “Hey, look i’m sorry. That was too far. Would you just let me come look with you? Please? I don’t want to hang around here right now either…” She trails off. Unsure of herself, unsure of him. 

He shrugs and some of the tension seeps out of his shoulders. He’s tired, he won’t fight her on it anymore.

≫------»

Lottie wakes beneath the hollow tree. Eyes clouded and limbs aching. The light of dawn is just peaking over the tree tops, warming her skin and urging her mind to consciousness. The swarm she had felt the night prior - throughout her limbs, in her head and in her stomach, has now reduced itself to a dull buzzing, at the base of her skull - they too found that her stomach was empty, and reserved themselves to nuzzle up to her cerebellum instead. Their presence just barely notieceable but audible enough to be an annoyance; like when a song is just loud enough that you can hear it but can’t quite make out the lyrics. 

She isn’t alone now; the girls that had scattered into the darkness last night had returned. They lay scattered throughout the clearing, circling the trunk and in turn, circling her. As if they had been drawn back by some unseen force in their sleep. Shrooms can make you sleepwalk, right?

One by one, they rise. Confused and dazed, they turn to her. Something is different. 

When they return to the cabin, dirty and tattered, mouths still stained red from berry juice, Nat is nowhere to be seen. Neither are Travis or Javi. Jackie has nowhere to go, so instead she makes herself known. Propped against the doorway of the cabin, arms crossed and a disapproving scowl scrawled on her face. Her eyes lock onto Shauna like an owl. A pissed off one. 

There’s a chip in the window between them, if untreated it may just fracture. 

The rest of the girls discover they have shrooms to blame with just enough time to be interrupted - by a bear. Fucking hell. The gun is with Natalie, who knows where, which means they’re left to inch towards the cabin until their backs hit the walls, wide eyed and heavy breathed. 

That’s when her fingers begin to tingle. The faint buzzing is overcome by a static, not in the back of her head but originating from her ears. She knows the others don’t hear it, or atleast they don’t notice it. It’s familiar. 

The bear is familiar. 

She squints at it, looking past it’s shape, focusing on all the things you’re taught not to focus on - especially in a time of crisis. That’s when she notices it. The faint offset in color, just circling the bear’s head, behind its ears and around its furry cheeks. The air is brighter. A halo . 

“Lottie, get back.” Mari reaches for her arm. “No. wait.” She puts a hand out, waving Mari off. 

The bear chuffs at her, not advancing, not retreating. Waiting. It’s eyes are completely black, though they do not appear unkind. There’s a softness to it, it doesn’t look so big up close. 

This is how I’m supposed to help you, this is my purpose. 

And she understands. 

“Shauna, the knife.” 

Hesitantly, Shauna places it in her outstretched palm. Lottie steps forward. There’s a series of objections, laced with panic. They urge her to stop, to come back to the porch. 

“ Shh ” She silences them, reassuring but stern. The objections cease and the girls resort to exchanging hushed whispers amongst themselves, charged with dread or anticipation, depending on the girl. She does not hear what they say, it isn’t important. 

The bear pads forward to meet her, it’s huffing grows more excited as she inches closer. For a moment, she feels a prick of fear in her chest. It’s a primordial reaction, this animal could kill her with the flick of a paw or a single well-placed bite. Just as her doubt begins to take root, the bear stops, and bows. It’s shroud in a light she is sure the others cannot see and she knows she is safe. 

It delivers itself, an offering. 

She had felt something coming, this is it. She thrusts the knife into it’s neck. And just as fast as it had appeared, the beast lets out a singular groan then lowers it’s massive head and dies. It looks peaceful, snout poised atop it’s paws, body positioned in a compact manner, almost polite. As an offering should be. 

The trees had promised her that their hunger would soon end. And they sent Laura Lee to fulfill this promise.

Her hands shake as Shauna begins to butcher the animal, prepping the meal for the girls to eat. She fights the itching in her knees to rush forward and take her kill, drain it before the others cook it. Before they ruin it. Her throat burns and clenches, her eyes are hot and itchy. She wipes at them and her palms come away red. 

Fuck.

With her palms pressed into her sockets and her fingers in her hair, she backs away from the clearing, turning towards the woods. 

“Lott?” Van calls. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah- just a headache. I’m gonna go for a walk to clear it up. Call me when dinner’s ready, okay?”  “Mm” Van nods and heads back to where Tai is sitting by the fire. 

After wandering around blindly, she finds herself sitting with the back of her head against the splintering woodboards of the back of the cabin. Palms pressed to her eyes, head resting against the top of her knees. She thinks on last night, her face growing hot with shame. She was going to eat Travis… she wanted to. Everything she had worked for, the morals she had promised to uphold, to herself - to Nat. The burning in her throat manifests as hot spit, pooling on her tongue and making her nauseous. 

Is that all it takes? A few too many days of hunger and she’s willing to defy her own belief system, to attack another? The team had an excuse, they were drugged, but she should’ve been aware of her actions. She should’ve been in control. Was she? 

She had felt so deeply that they were receiving a blessing from the wilderness. She was so sure it had been Travis… obviously not. 

Then there’s Laura Lee. Her angel, her savior. She never lied to Lottie, she had come back. She was the blessing from the wilderness, a second coming in the form of the most crucial of necessities; food. Come back in the form of a bear. It almost causes her migraine to ebb for a moment and she feels her lips pull into a smile. Of course she came back as a bear . She never could leave that plushie behind, Leonard. Even in death, he went with her, burning up in that plane right beside her. Her smile falls. Maybe the wilderness let Laura lee have that, she could bring him back too. 

“Lottie?” She hears Van call. She quickly wipes the bloody tears from her cheeks. She isn’t sure how much time has passed… could dinner be ready that fast…? She looks to the horizon but the cold sun still sits above the treeline, so it couldn’t be that late. 

Then she sees Van hobble around the corner, carrying a bucket. The metal keeps knocking against her shins and just almost splashing over the rim and onto her clothes. It’s filled with thick blood, still fresh. Her pupils dilate at the sight. 

“Van? What is this for…” She manages to choke out. Fear turning in her stomach nearly as much as desire. 

Van sets the bucket on the floor. Her face is still healing from being torn apart, sewing itself back together, creating bright roots that web across her cheek and above her left eye, still a vibrant scarlet from the burst vessels. 

“There’s something out here… I don’t quite understand it, but I think you do. You collected the deer’s blood after the first hunt. It wasn’t just to avoid bears, was it?” Lottie starts to panic, opening her mouth to defend herself, when Van reaches into her shirt and pulls out the necklace Lottie had made her for protection, running her fingers along the smooth alabastor. It catches her off guard, she didn’t realize Van had kept it. 

“We should give something back, right? That bear was no coincidence… something is helping us out here.” Lottie pauses then nods slowly, humming in agreement. “You’re right… we should give an offering. As thanks.” Her eyes drift down to the bucket. 

Van seems to relax at the confirmation. “I guess the greeks were onto something,” she snorts. Lottie finds herself smiling for a moment, Van’s jokes feel like a touch of home, she missed them. 

Her eyes drift down to the bucket and her expression becomes serious once more. “Well, I’m supposed to help with skinning… but do what you need to do, you have my support.” Van turns before Lottie has the chance to answer, leaving the bucket a few steps from her feet. She inhales heavily, invisible strings pulling her to her feet, pulling at her joints to move forward. 

Van is right. This can’t all be hers. Not after what they were given. She lifts the pail with a strength she didn’t have moments before, and lets the invisible string guide her. 

She rounds the cabin and drifts through the clearing, past the girls hard at work preparing dinner. They watch, but no one speaks, most are respectfully silent. They see her differently now, they don’t question her actions or choices. Tai lets out a quiet huff before Van silences her with a sharp look. Well, most of them.

The pines curve above her as she makes her way into the woods, they form an arching pathway above her, assisting the invisible string in guiding her to where she needs to be. There is no sense of urgency from them this time. The forest knows she will do what it requires, it trusts her. So it idly stands by, ever watching. 

She finds herself at the hollow tree once more. Torches still litter the clearing, long burnt up. She feels a sense of purpose wash over her as she kneels in the cold dirt. She begins to tip the bucket, the weight of the liquid doing most of the work once it begins to pour. She props it against the tree, slowing the flow as it drips into the basin. The earth drinks up the offering greedily. 

Cupping her hands, she places them beneath the stream. It pools until her palms are full, she brings her hands to her mouth and drinks, a trickle running down her chin and falling onto the ground beneath her. The droplets fade nearly as quickly as they land, soaked up by the earth. 

Even as the blood has begun to cool in the bucket, it warms her insides, soothes the aching in her throat and the itching behind her eyes. 

“ Thank you. ”

And for once, the trees are quiet.

They have food to eat that night, and for many future nights, due to the sacrifice of the woods. Her heart swells as she watches her teammates fill their plates. Her fingers tingle and the corner of her mouth lifts into a soft smile. “God, that smells so good.” Van sighs as she picks a piece off the table and pops it in her mouth. “And tastes even better holy shit.” Shuana looks bashful, she glances up at Jackie out of instinct then quickly away when Jackie meets her gaze with a hardened expression. 

“Mari helped… She’s quite the chef when she tries” Mari’s eyes grow wide, shocked at a compliment from - Shauna Shipman? Unlikely words to be in the same sentence (without Jackie’s involvement that is). “… and doesn’t add random mushrooms to the soup.” Shauna smirks. Faux-offense replaces Mari’s previous expression. “ Hey, we agreed that wasn’t my fault!” Tai snorts and rolls her eyes, “never trust mushrooms from Misty.” Misty looks away in shame but says nothing. Mari groans then adds, “but yeah… I cook for my siblings at home. You can thank Mrs. Ibara for that.” Recovering her expression to one of pride. 

“Wait… should we wait for Nat and Travis?” Lottie hates to dampen the mood, but she feels awful realizing they’re missing the meal. They don’t even know about the bear yet… of course they’d want to make themselves scarce after last night. Shauna nods in agreement but the others look less sure . They’re hungry. Lottie forgets she already ate, before that she’d be less than eager to wait. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind… there’s plenty of food they can eat when they get back.” Coach replies. “Yeah, who knows when they’ll be back anyway,” Gen grumbles out in agreement, waving her hand flippantly.

Lottie nods. Yeah, they’ll be happy just to see there’s food on the table… and who knows where they are right now. It could take hours to find them and by then the food would be cold. 

“Lottie, how did you know that bear wasn’t going to attack you?” Mari speaks up after a time. 

“I just did.” She shrugs, nervous under the new attention from the others. Van eyes are intense, locked onto her own as she speaks, waiting for some kind of revelation. She doesn’t have much of one to offer. It’s little things; a slight change in the atmosphere, a buzz in the air, a change in the light. Sometimes she doesn’t even see anything necessarily, she just feels it. “There was something about it, it felt safe. Like it was there for us,” she adds softly. 

Jackie rolls her eyes so aggressively she swears she can hear it. “Yeah, it’s called getting lucky. The bear probably just smelled us and came looking for food, okay? Probably had something wrong with him.” She almost feels amused by Jackie’s attempts to explain something that just isn’t explainable. There’s more to it than that, though. She can tell Jackie’s words are dangerous. The bear was a gift, to brush something like that off so easily… it can’t have good implications. As Jackie speaks, Lottie begins to feel a pressure building behind her eyes and around her skull. Like the early pinpricks of a migraine, it quickly stiffles what humour she had found in the comment. 

“It didn’t look sick.” Misty mutters before taking another bite. “Honestly, at this point, I don’t even think I care. Can we just eat?” Mari remarks. 

“Wait- should we maybe… say something?” Van blurts out. “Like thanks or grace… or whatever.” Her voice trails off and she looks to Lottie for support, reassurance. 

“Yeah, just make it quick.” Tai replies first, though stiffly. Jackie groans in protest and slouches in her chair. 

“Lot?” Van doesn’t break eye contact, urging her to speak. So she does, even as the pressure continues to build. 

“Let’s join hands.” She doesn’t know much about ‘saying grace’ but she knows what Laura Lee would’ve done. So she reaches out, clasping Shauna’s hand in her own, feeling the rhythm of two heartbeats instead of one.

“For this gift from the wilderness, we give our thanks.” 

Van raises her head after a moment. “Thank you,” she concurs. It’s enough for her to keep going. 

“To the spirit of the bear, who sacrified so that we could survive, we give our thanks.” 

Van’s thanks are echoed this time but the rest of the team. Lottie’s feels herself relax, her shoulders loosen and the pressure in her head begins to let up. “And to the ancient gods of the sky and the dirt, we give our thanks,” She finishes. Once again, the girls murmur their thank you’s, hand in hand. And Lottie feels content. 

The wilderness will be pleased with them, surely. 

When she opens her eyes, some of her teammates are making faces of confusion or bewilderment, but she’s okay with it. They don’t need to understand right now, they will eventually. 

“...You didn’t say it.” Misty hisses at Jackie from the corner, who doesn’t bother responding. The blonde pauses before turning to face the rest of the girls. “Jackie didn’t say it.” She repeats the accusation louder. 

“No, I did not thank the dirt for bringing us a brain-dead bear,” Jackie balks. Lottie feels her smile fade. Shauna’s grip loosens and her hand falls away from Lottie’s grasp. “What is even happening right now? The fuck is wrong with you all?” The pressure returns suddenly, piercing her temples. And behind it… a buzzing. Faint at first, as are all things, but the hive is beginning to wake. She brings her hand to her face, covering one eye with her palm and clenching the other in her lap. This isn’t right. 

“It’s fine, you guys, she doesn’t have to-” “Oh shut up Tai.” Jackie scoffs. Something clicks, or snaps - she isn’t sure, but it’s enough to stop the girls from eating. Heads snap up and Shauna goes rigid beside her. 

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t a part of it .” Jackie’s lip quivers but she continues, her voice growing louder. The warmth in Lottie’s chest becomes uncomfortably hot, searing her rib cage. The girls look back down at their plates, unable to meet Jackie’s gaze. 

“What, we’re… we’re just not gonna talk about it? We just howl at the moon now and have fucking orgies? You all were going to kill Travis, and somehow I’m the one who did something wrong?” 

“Jackie- calm down.” Shauna says it - desperately attempting to make it sound flippant - but underneath, it’s a warning. Stop while you can, before it’s too late. Lottie isn’t sure what happened in the cabin but her body is burning with guilt, with fear . Jackie needs to stop. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”  She lifts herself off of her chair and begins pacing towards Shauna. 

As Jackie speaks a path begins to form in Lottie’s brain, behind her eyelids in the dark. The hive is building it. She does not know where it leads and when she tries to see through the darkness, to see what lies at the end of the tunnel, her brain sets fire. So instead she clenches her jaw, seals her lips, and lets Jackie speak.

“What were you gonna do to Travis last night, Shauna?” Shauna’s expression softens, her eyes grow wide and her breathing quickens. Jackie crosses her arms. 

“ Answer me. ” Her voice sticks to her throat, as though the words don’t want to be spoken. 

“I don’t know… I don’t remember.” “ Bullshit. He was gagged… you had a knife, ” Her voice becomes incredibly soft, just above a whisper. Lottie can hardly hear it above the thrumming of wings. Shauna gulps. “If we hadn’t come, you would have killed him .” Lottie catches a few stray glances her way. 

“Just SHUT UP ” Shauna springs to her feet, bristling. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you, if you hadn’t-” “Hadn’t what, ” Jackie cuts her off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised mockingly. “You’re such a hypocrite,” she spits. 

“Shauna was fucking Jeff. Behind my back, you know that?” She addresses their crowd. “Yeah, that’s who’s really responsible for her little bundle of joy.” Jackie’s voice trembles with anger, but her face betrays her. Her eyes are wet and her mouth twitches at the corners, like she’s fighting the frown that’s so clearly winning. Even as their argument grows louder, their words become fainter, more muddled in Lottie’s mind. As if the air is too thick for the words to reach her. Every bone in her body urges her to run, to get up and get as far away from here as possible before it all implodes. The bees squirm violently beneath her skin - pulling her from the inside - toward the door, down towards her chair, pulling her apart . So even as her body tells her to run, she cannot. It is far too late for that. 

“It was you… You read my journal.” Lottie catches the rest of the argument in scattered pieces, Their voices drowned out by the ruckus in her head and the pounding of their hearts. It’s so loud. She thinks her head may burst, but she dare not move to leave. So she makes herself as still as possible, hoping no one else will hear the buzzing.

It seems to last forever, drilling away at her skull, her brain being used as wax, torn apart one mouthful at a time. Then, it stops. Her vision comes back and and the noise is just gone. She has to steady herself to adjust. 

“ Get out. ” Jackie snaps. Lottie finds them again, through the murkiness clouding her vision, still standing by the door. Jackie is now pointing at it. Shauna doesn’t budge. Jackie shoves her, but to no avail. “I said get out !” 

“No.” “I can’t be around you I can’t even fucking look at you right now,” Jackie’s voice cracks. “That sounds like your problem.” Shauna’s voice has settled. She’s sure of herself, of her decision. It’s as if in the span of one argument, they’ve switched roles… sort of. “So maybe you should leave.” Jackie backs away in shock, turns to the others waiting for someone to speak out in her favor. They don’t. 

“Maybe you’d be better off…” Mari sides with Shauna. “Since we’re all so crazy .” 

In this moment Jackie’s heart breaks; the fracture spiderwebs across her atria and severs her blood supply. It then reforms, the cracks sealing together - a little crooked, a little misshapen, and a just little hollow; the blood already freezing in her veins, unable to make its way home. This all occurs in the amount of time it takes a single tear to break her water line and fall to the cabin floor. 

And yet, Lottie feels a sense of calm wash over her, as if under a sedative. Like the tide is finally receding and the waves calming. Honey seeps between the crevices of her brain, making her slow and placid. 

“Okay, everybody just stop. Nobody is going outside-” “ Stay out of it coach .” Her lips move before she knows what she’s saying; something else speaking through her. She finds she’s okay with it. 

“Ya know what? Fine.” 

Just like that, Jackie heads for the doorway. “Jackie, come on don’t go-” Tai begins “Oh don’t pretend like this isn’t what you wanted the entire fucking time.” She snaps back. No one argues with that. “I don’t even know who you are anymore,” this is said to no one other than Shauna; the only person her words were ever really for. 

“Well, maybe you never did.” 

The door creaks on it’s hinges as Jackie pulls it closed behind her and the slam seems to ring out longer than it should. 

She does not remember the rest of the evening, her heart is slow and her brain slower. She is lulled into a comfortable sleep, next to an empty pile of blankets normally occupied by Nat. 

She dreams of winter. 

≫------»

Nat stumbles through the clearing and up the front porch, attempting - and failing - to make it to her blanket heep without disturbing any of the girls’ rest, she definitely trips over a few limbs on the way. It’s pitch black and she’s exhausted, they’ll live. She’s not sure what time it is but it must be near morning at this point, they were out looking for Javi all day and far into the night. At first she figured he had just run off, gotten a little lost and fell asleep. He had been drinking the soup too so it wouldn’t be surprising. But after the first few hours, she began to grow anxious. She could tell Travis was borderline panicking but didn’t want to show it. 

Their calls got more hoarse and more desperate as the daylight weened. They had checked the lake and the cliff, thinking maybe he had drunkenly fallen or drowned. Both were bare, thank god . It didn’t ease Travis’ worries. Or hers. Where could he have gone? No one knows these woods better than her, she’s been out here every damn night, she knows them like the back of her hand. And yet, still no Javi. 

She manages to make out Lottie’s curled up figure in the dark and lets out a sigh of relief, sure she could be faking it… but her dampened snores say otherwise. It’ll have to be good enough for tonight. 

Nat collapses into the blankets and turns so they wrap around her. She hears the door creak open and Travis’s figure creeps in, alone. They had split off part way through the search, sometime during the early evening. He’ll see that she returned empty handed too. Nat sighs and closes her eyes, shame burning hot in her cheeks. She can’t help but feel like she’s failed him.

Even with the fatigue weighing her down, she can’t sleep. Her stomach is too knotted and her mind won’t stop racing. Where is Javi? When did he run off? And how had she failed to notice his absence…

She must’ve been too distracted by Lottie. Nat turns over to stare at her silhouette, once more. Lottie’s a wild card right now, she shouldn’t have let her guard down with her. She’s dangerous and she clearly has… influence. But the outline of her chest slowly rising and falling looks so peaceful, as if Lottie had forgotten all about the events that transpired last night. As if she’s just a teenage girl, tired from a long day at camp. It fills her with nauseating rage. She turns away and looks at the wall instead. 

-

Nat wakes up shivering. 

“Where’s Jackie?” She hears Tai’s voice muffled through her the blankets. “ Shit did she never come back in last night?!” Jackie was gone?

“ Holy shit it snowed.” That woke her up real quick. 

“No no no no” Shauna spews like she can’t help, words falling out of her mouth in a desperate ramble as she pulls on a hoodie and throws open the door. 

Cold wind hits Nat in the face. The seasons changed overnight. “What the fuck is going on-” She sputters, dazed but on her feet and sliding her boots on. Her eyes glide over Lottie, whose expression gives nothing away. 

Shauna is outside now and she’s a tornado. The benches are getting tossed on their side, snow is flying everywhere as she searches aimlessly. She’s not here.  

“Jackie?! Jackie where are you? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.” Tears are streaming down her face, catching on her upper lip and sliding into her mouth. Jackie never came back last night. 

What the fuck happened while she was gone?

“Split up. We’ll find her.” Lottie says, the others look at her with a sort of understanding - besides Shauna - there’s no recognition in her eyes. Just pure animalistic panic. She doesn’t need to recognize Lottie’s words though, she understands what she needs to do. She’s gone before anyone. 

Before she knows it, she’s grabbing her rifle and heading into the woods, too. 

First Javi, now Jackie? Is she negligent or just stupid? How could she not have noticed. Of course something was going on with those two. The other night; what happened at the cabin while she was high - dreaming of love and blood, before everything happened with Lottie. What the fuck happened while she was asleep?!

She repositions the sling on her shoulder and continues her sweep. “Jackie- if you’re out there please come out. We can talk about it, you know I won’t judge you,” she rasps. She can feel in her chest it’s pointless, her hands are starting to shake and her breath is clouding her vision. Do temperatures really drop that fast up here..?

It doesn’t take her long to find Jackie. Strawberry blonde hair peaks out above the snow, white flecks still sticking to it as they fall. Her skin is pale blue and her eyes sunken in. She’s lovely.

Nat drops the rifle in the snow. 

She turns slowly, they aren’t far from the cabin. She couldn’t have gotten lost… she chose this. Why? But deep down, she knows why and she can’t help but blame herself. 

“I found her.” Nat calls out weakly. 

Shauna hears her, of course. 

Nat’s never seen her run so fast, not in all their soccer games. Her feet don’t falter until her eyes find Jackie’s body. She staggers above it before her knees give out entirely. Tears stain her cheeks as a wail tears out of her throat. She claws at Jackie’s clothes and limbs, forcing the stiffened body upright onto her lap. 

“JACKIE- JACKIE WAKE UP ” She’s choking on her own sobs, shaking Jackie and cradling her face as if either could make a difference. Screaming at the corpse, or at the world, or at herself. Begging whatever is out here to give her a second chance, to give Jackie a second chance. Unfortunately, that’s not how death works. Nat would know better than anyone; what’s done is done.  

Nat can’t look. She feels sick. 

She’ll never really get over how faces look when the life leaves them. They way their eyes gloss over and their cheeks sink in. It happens all too quickly. It’s not Jackie anymore, and that’s the hardest part. 

So she doesn’t look. She leaves Shauna to Tai as soon as she runs over, and she doesn’t look back. She’ll face Jackie another day. 

At some point the rest of the team gets there, too. Their faces are painted with a variety of shock, guilt, confusion, and terror.  

Nat was out here last night… looking for Javi. She missed Jackie entirely. Her eyes drift to Travis. He’s already looking at her, expression hardened. She sees through it, his eyes say it all. They’re still filled with life… still filled with fear. He was with her the other night, now he’s lost them both; Javi and Jackie. She didn’t even know they were close… maybe they weren’t at all. If she had been more present, maybe she would actually know.

Lottie stands a few paces away from the group, feet planted to the floor. She looks dazed. The corners of her mouth are drawn down and her brows are slightly pinched. Van is glancing with wide eyes between her and Tai, who is holding Shauna tightly, attempting desperately to comfort her. 

Nat staggers back to the cabin, she isn’t sure how long it takes her to get there, how long it takes her to lay down her rifle, but eventually the door opens again behind her. She can tell from the cold breeze that washes the back of her neck and runs down her spine. Someone slides the gun off the floor beside her and hangs it by the doorway. Her eyes lag behind her thoughts, but eventually find the perpetrator; it’s Akilah. 

“What happened…?”

“Jackie and Shauna got into a fight… Shauna won.” She murmured. Blunt, but not unkind. 

“It doesn’t seem like much of a win.” 

“She’s never been one for foresight.” Akilah shakes her head sympathetically. “Jackie brought us together… but out here? She was never going to last.” 

Nat feels cold. Not just her limbs or face, but deep in her core. The arctic breeze from the doorway had spread through her skin and finally reached her heart. It could be any one of them next. 

“I should’ve been there.” She speaks before she can stop herself and her voice cracks. Her fingers shake, unrelated to the cold. 

“Oh Natalie… what difference would that have made.” 

≫------»

Lottie’s nails carve into her palms until warm liquid trickles down to her knuckles. 

“ Get off of me- STOP you can’t take her from me ” Shauna is screaming, throwing blind punches and kicking at anyone who gets near her. “Shauna, we have to take her to the shed- we can’t leave her out here.” Tai shouts back, patience thinning. “No- no Jackie would hate it in there- you can’t just shut her in a room and act like it never happened.” 

“Shauna we aren’t but we can’t just leave her here either- please . You can go with her, but you have to let go. ” “NO, I- I can’t” Shauna looks away, but it gives Van an opening to grab her midsection and drag her off, kicking and screaming, of course. 

Her lip is quivering with rage and regret, but she eventually gives in. Instead, she reaches for Jackie’s hand, entertwining their fingers.

Van, Gen, and Melissa lift Jackie’s body and carry her to the shed. Shauna walks nex to them, hand gripping Jackie’s, never letting go. Tai follows close behind. Lottie watches them in slow motion. 

Mari throws up. Lottie spirals. 

She gave the blood… she gave an offering . And in turn one of her own was taken… was it not enough?! Was her offering denied?

She recalls just two nights ago. The knife in her hand, Travis tied and gagged. …One of her own. But that’s what she’s trying to prevent . It wasn’t supposed to happen like this… The bear was supposed to stop more deaths, what else was its purpose? Jackie was supposed to come back inside and Shauna and her would work it out. It’s too early for first snow fall. 

Why didn’t she stop it from happening? 

Part of her already knows, she knows why no one stopped Jackie and she knows why the snow fell early. Jackie didn’t belong, she couldn’t feel this place like the rest of them can. She disrespected it. So the wilderness took her and it gave them a life in return. A fair trade. 

That bear was never Laura Lee. It was something much worse. A ruse; they agreed to a deal before they knew what they were giving up. 

Her head is growing louder. Viscious buzzing that she’s grown familiar with. She bites her lip. The offering wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.  

“Van. I need you to come with me. ” Lottie grabs her arm as she exits the shed. Van looks down where Lottie touched her and draws her brows together when she sees the red left behind. “Lottie…? What’s going on? This… this is wrong, right? This wasn’t supposed to happen” Lottie’s already pulling her aside. “Is the organ meat still in the cabin.” “What? Uh- yeah I think so… They were going to salt it for the winter.” 

“Okay, we need it.” Lottie starts to turn away, assuming Van will follow. “Lottie I thought… the offering…? I know she didn’t believe but I didn’t think she’d…” 

“It wasn’t enough. We took more than we gave.”

“ How is this not enough, Lottie. Jackie is dead .” Anger rises in her unexpectedly and she whips around to face Van “We didn’t give Jackie. It took her. A life for a life; we never could have given it what it wanted… that’s not how the deal worked. Jackie didn’t belong so it took her. The bear was just to placate us,” she sighs. “It knew we’d need it once the snow began to fall.” The bear would provide for them as the days grow shorter and the nights colder. It will feed the girls for days, even weeks. They had to sacrifice one to save the many… even if they didn’t know it at the time. 

Jackie and Shauna were always supposed to fight. Jackie was always supposed to leave . A sacrifice was needed, and Jackie was there. She denied the wilderness so it let her pass peacefully, but she could never have stayed.

In this moment, Lottie understands.

Van breaks eye contact, it’s a moment before Lottie realizes she’s looking at the necklace. She lets out a long breath. “Okay.” 

“The deal is done. We have to show our gratitude if we want to make it through the winter.” 

Nat is leaving as they enter the cabin. She breaks eye contact as soon as she makes it. Van leads Lottie past Akilah and to the table, organs on a rag, some salted and put aside, some still oozing blood. Lottie’s hands slide gingerly around the heart. It still feels warm somehow… like it could start beating again if it were tucked back inside a rib cage. 

Akilah says nothing as they leave. 

“Let me come with you.” Curly hair and glasses stop them at the porch. “This is my fault I shouldn’t have said anything… even if she didn’t say thanks” “Misty-?” Van starts. “ You should really talk quieter if you don’t want company.” “She can come.” Lottie states and continues off the porch. 

The forest looks so foreign from just yesterday. The soft glow of autumn is now a stark white. Any foot prints she may have left yesterday are now covered by the snow, even as she follows down the same path. 

The wind seems to gently urge her on as she walks, causing her dress to billow - Laura Lee’s dress - and tickling the backs of her knees. The trees do not move though, and the world is not loud. It seems to wait patiently for a response, a reaction. So the trees do not bend and the earth does not shake, and the wind does not blow her over. Instead they watch and they wait. She too is quiet, she does not whisper or even think as she grows closer, heart on display, held out bare for the wilderness to see - so that her intentions may be known. She dare not let her thoughts betray that, for what if they hear? So it is quiet as she approaches the stump for a third time, on the third day. 

She does not speak until the heart has been laid to rest in the chest of the tree. Back in it’s earthen rib cage where it belongs. “Versez le sang, mes beaux amis.” shed blood, my beautiful friends. 

“And let the darkness set us free.”