I howled, and the world shook.
WHEN I AWOKE, he was gone.
The fire was dead, embers barely smoldering.
The cabin was cold.
I blinked up at the ceiling, still caught in the dream of running with my pack, his voice in my head like we were connected, like the threads between us had reformed.
I rubbed at the ache in my chest.
I sat up.
My neck hurt.
I felt empty, hollowed out.
I stood and went to the window.
Clouds had gathered again in the night. They threatened more snow.
Paw prints broke through the thin crust of snow outside the cabin.
A red leaf lay in one of the prints, having fallen from a tree near the cabin still caught in autumn.
I stared at it.
And made a decision.
I PULLED MY COAT TIGHTER around me. I was colder than I ever remembered being, but I needed to see for myself. Where he was going. What he was doing. It was dangerous, but I was running out of options. It was getting harder and harder to realize I was awake. The world had become hazy around the edges like it had when I paced behind a line of silver in the basement of the pack house.
The paw prints were close together. He was walking, and there were times when the prints connected as though he was dragging his feet. He wasn’t running toward something. He was trudging, and he didn’t want to go.
I didn’t know how long it lasted. How long I went. A mile, two, ten. I walked, and the clouds grew thicker, and the forest was dead as that diseased heart pulsed. It tugged on my mind, a sour caress, and I fought it through gritted teeth. It whispered wordlessly. It was a low hum buzzing in my skull.
And then I heard him.
Talking.
Gavin said, “Always here. Never leave, do you? Talking, talking, talking. Always talking.”
I held my breath as I pressed my forehead against a tree, the bark rough.
A beat of silence. Then, “I don’t. Stop. Go away, ghost. Go away, you’re not here, you’re not here, you’re not here.”
And then he laughed, a terrible sound that made my skin crawl. It sounded like he was choking. He said, “You’re not real, I know, I know. I saw you. You were sleeping. Safe. Ghost. Always haunting me. I hate you. I need you. Please let me die. Please leave me here.”
My breath rose like mist around my face.
“You can’t,” he retorted to someone only he could see. “Kill you. He’ll kill you, and I’ll be alone. I’ll be alone. Please don’t go. Why? Why? Let me look. Let me see it. All I have. It’s all I have.”
I pulled my head away from the tree. I gripped the trunk, claws digging in as I leaned around it.
Gavin crouched in the snow about ten yards away. He was nude and alone, his hair loose and hanging around his face. The bones in his spine jutted out. He turned his head to the side and barked, “Stop! Don’t. You don’t know. I do. I do. It’s not real. It’s a lie. Everything is lies. Hurts, Carter. It hurts inside my head.”
My hands shook.
He said, “Stay here. Keep it safe. Broken. It’s all broken. All that I have left.” He continued on, muttering quietly. He was digging in the snow at the base of a tree.