Chapter Text
After the first hit, Natalie’s mind starts to drift.
There’s blood everywhere. Suddenly, she’s back in the cramped trailer in Wiskayok, choking on her father’s rage. Her hands are tangled in her hair, her breath coming in short gasps.
Then the cabin snaps back into focus. Her eyes flicker between a battered Lottie on the floor and her mother’s crumpled body on the trailer’s carpet. Shauna is gone, and before her mind conjures the deafening sound of a gunshot, Natalie is already moving toward Lottie.
“What the fuck?” she mutters, voice low and shaky, glancing around in disbelief. She’s stunned to find herself the only one kneeling beside their so-called leader.
“Tai,” her voice cracks, “Tai, get some snow.”
No response.
“Taissa, get some fucking snow! She’s in pain!” Natalie’s yell jolts Tai out of her daze. She grabs Van, still wide-eyed and frozen, and pulls her toward the door.
“What else do you need?” Misty’s voice cuts through, trembling but determined.
“Boiled water and the cleanest cloths you can find”
Misty nods and bolts, her eagerness unnerving. The rest of the group remains frozen, their faces filled of shock and fear and their fear etched in silence.
Suddenly, Akilah stirs her eyes locking with Natalie’s as she steps forward.
“We should get her to the bed,” she says, her words trembling slightly, as if choking back tears.
Natalie nods. “Good idea. Can you tell Ben we need the bed?” Her tone softens as she speaks to the younger girl, more gentle than the sharp commands she’d given Tai and Misty.
Akilah hesitates for a moment glancing at her with watery eyes before beginning to leave.
“Akilah,” Natalie calls after her. “ Grab Travis—we’ll need him to help move her.”
Akilah nods again, stealing one last look at Lottie before leaving.
Years of dealing with her father’s violent outbursts had left Natalie with a strange form of clarity in moments like this. She pushes down the creeping memories of her mother’s battered face just as the door creaks open, Tai and Van returning with handfuls of snow.
“Tai, keep an eye on Shauna. Her hands might be messed up for a while.”
Taissa nods and pulls Van with her. Natalie can’t blame them for wanting to stay close.
Soon, Akilah returns with Travis, Javi, and Coach Ben trailing behind her. Ben’s face is pale, his eyes darting like a scared animal. Useless, like every adult Natalie has ever known.
She’s once again reminded of Vera but this time of her on the couch, staring blankly ahead while her father made Natalie the target of his rage. She shoves the thought aside as Travis’s deep voice grounds her, telling Javi to stay in the attic until he calls him down.
Travis steps forward, his face pale as he stares at Lottie. His expression is unreadable, but if Natalie had to guess, it’s the look of someone realizing that the person they’ve pinned their salvation on is fragile, breakable, and most importantly human.
“Travis,” Natalie says firmly, “you grab that side. I’ll grab this one.”
He doesn’t move at first, his hands hovering awkwardly, but when Natalie nudges him, he snaps out of it. He crouches down beside her, and together they prepare to lift Lottie.
“Snap out of it,” Natalie barks at the others. “Help us get her to the bed.”
The group finally stirs, assisting in grabbing her legs and laying Lottie on the old cot. Once she’s settled, the others shuffle out, finally leaving Natalie alone with the injured girl and the sounds of shallow breathing dripping blood.
“Hey,” Natalie whispers, dipping a cloth into the boiled water Misty brought. “This is going to hurt, but I promise it’s necessary, okay?”
Lottie’s face twitches—a faint acknowledgment. Natalie takes it as approval and begins wiping the blood away, revealing bruises and swelling beneath.
“Lottie,” she murmurs, her voice thick with a mix of anger and grief, “you can’t do this again. You’re not some punching bag or the second coming of Christ. You’re Charlotte Matthews—a teenage girl stuck in the wilderness with the rest of her soccer team.”
Lottie doesn’t respond. Her eyes remain closed, her breathing shallow but steady.
“I want you back,” Natalie continues, her voice cracking. “I miss who you were. Hell, I miss who we all were.”
She pauses, holding back a laugh that has no place here. “Remember when Tai called me a wino? You chased after me. You always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Natalie cleans Lottie’s cuts as best she can with the limited supplies, then presses snow against her swollen eyes.
“You’ve got a good heart, you know that? You’re only mean when you have to be.” Her hand stills, the weight of the moment pressing down. “Which is why you can’t let this happen again. You don’t deserve this, Lottie. No one does.”
She swaps out the snow and hesitates before adding softly, “I’ve done this before—just so you know. Mostly for my mom.”
Her voice falters, the words slipping out before she can stop them. “You remember sophomore year? When I missed practice for two weeks? The cover story was that I had the flu, even though I heard rumors about a botched abortion, but…”
She exhales sharply, her hand trembling slightly as she moves another cloth over Lottie’s bruised skin. “Truth is, my dad beat the crap out of me when he found out about Levi Houser. It wasn’t this bad, face-wise—mainly just a split lip—but my body was covered in bruises.”
Natalie’s eyes flicker down to Lottie’s battered form, the bruises eerily familiar, reminding her of the marks she’d once seen on her own reflection. She gently runs her fingers over the purple and blue splotches movements growing gentler as she applies fresh snow to Lottie’s ribs.
“You’re going to feel like shit for a while,” she says softly before the next words slip out, sharp and resentful, sounding exactly like her father’s used to. “Maybe your forest spirits will bring you some pain meds.”
The thought hits her like a punch, and she sees her father’s half-blown-off face flash before her eyes. The irony isn’t lost on her of picking a fight with someone who can’t fight back.
She shakes it off, exhaling slowly. “No, sorry, you don’t need that shit right now.” Her voice softens again as she leans closer to Lottie, almost tender. “Look, Lot, what I’m trying to say to your definitely unconscious body is… you’re going to be okay. I promise.”
A small hand weakly reaches out, squeezing hers. Natalie looks up to meet two swollen, half-lidded eyes.
“You’re going to be fine,” she whispers, her voice steady now, more certain. “But for now, go to sleep. I’ve got this.”
Lottie’s eyes close again, and her breathing evens out. Natalie knows she can leave now, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she sits by the cot, holding Lottie’s hand. And though the grip is faint, it stays that way all night, even as Natalie finally allows herself to rest.