little girl. And where was Deerling? We’d come into the woods looking for his car, but I was fairly certain he hadn’t been among those who grabbed us. So where were the others?
Toying with the knife, I decided to keep it in my hand rather than stowing it. Without knowing what I was up against, I would much rather have a weapon easily accessible. Speaking of weapons, I wondered what had become of the gun I’d been carrying when I entered the woods.
It was probably with my shoes somewhere.
A path led away from the cabin, winding into the woods before it twisted out of sight. I heard nothing to suggest any other people were around, but I couldn’t hear anything. No birds, no insects. The only sounds were my anxious short breaths and the wind rustling the leaves overhead.
In the dim light I thought I might be able to take the path and remain undetected, but since I didn’t know what was waiting at the other end, I suspected it might be smarter to hide among the trees. I also had no way to gauge direction. I hadn’t been a Girl Scout, so even if the sun had been high above me, I wouldn’t have been able to guess which way was north. When I’d lived in the swamps of Maurepas, I hadn’t relied on a traditional sense of direction. I knew familiar locations and smells.
None of that was going to help me here. The air was thick with the cloying scent of magnolia, the sun had gone down, and nothing around me looked remarkable at all. Trees and more trees. I could try to find the highway, but unless I heard car sounds, I would be just as likely to get lost as to find my way back to civilization.
Being lost in the woods didn’t frighten me. I was used to alone time, and I could fend for myself against predators. The night would get cool, but not cold enough to be dangerous, since werewolves ran hot at the best of times.
I was more worried about what my absence would mean for everyone else. Cash and Wilder would be worried. They might have even gone to the police by now. It all depended on what Wilder had said when he got back to the motel.
Or had the big idiot tried to play the hero on his own? What if he’d gotten away, only to circle back and try to rescue me?
Sounded like the kind of harebrained stupidity I would expect from myself.
I hoped his sense of self-preservation ran deeper than my own.
Giving the twig-strewn underbrush a baleful look, I trudged into the woods, hissing swears through my teeth. I was either going to walk out of here without further incident, or I was going to hike headlong into more trouble. Either way, as long as I didn’t get strung up again I felt like I was coming out on top.
I wobbled precariously over the uneven terrain. Spots of light danced across my vision, and the migraine swept over me slowly, like waves lapping at the shore. Each time I felt even a moment of relief, a new wave would crest and the pain would come over me again. And again. And again.
These were the kinds of headaches I used to get after my Awakening, when the magic was at odds with the wolf inside me. Most thirteen year olds only had to deal with the unfortunate side effects of puberty and hormones. Instead, I got a werewolf coming-of-age ritual and the sparking to life of my hereditary magic.
Bet no one ever had to deal with that at a bat mitzvah.
Back then the pain had been new and unbearable. It made me unfocused and dangerous. I’d spent years trying to master it and learning to balance the two powers inside me, and as I was finding out this week, I still had a lot of discoveries waiting for me. The return of the magic-induced skull-mangling migraines was like a visit from an unwelcome old acquaintance. In the past I’d been able to lock myself in dark rooms or find quiet spaces in the woods where I could meditate and rest until the pain subsided.
I didn’t think I was going to find my mental calm blue ocean out here.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and the pinpoints of light danced like little fairies across my vision. I had to keep my shit together and get my wits about me. The last