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.
A low roar echoed throughout the forest. In it, I heard here here here come come to me come to me.
Gavin sagged. “I know. I know.” He raised his head toward the sky. “I can’t breathe. Crushing. I can’t stop. I can’t stop, Carter. Please help me stop.” He stood slowly and nodded. “You promise? You won’t leave me?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My throat was closed.
“Okay,” he said. And, “It’s secret. You. This you. My ghost. You’re not real. Sleeping you is real. I think. Saying words. Always saying words. Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, that’s all you say. Skinny. Beard and skinny you is real and you never stop talking.”
My face was wet. I told myself it was because of the snow.
I heard the familiar grind of muscle and bone and he was away, heading deeper into the woods.
I waited until the sounds of his footfalls faded.
All that remained was my thunderous heart in my ears.
I found the courage to leave the safety of my hiding place. I stepped around the tree.
The snow was trampled where he’d been crouched, and for a moment I almost convinced myself there was a second set of footprints, that he’d been talking to someone who’d actually been there.
There wasn’t.
“You know what this is,” Kelly said suddenly. I looked over at him. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and I didn’t want him to catch a cold again. I thought he’d been dying. Even though he was a wolf now, I worried. I tried to hand him my coat, but he just laughed at me. “You know what this means. He sees you even when you’re not there. Like I’m not really here. It’s how you hold on, the both of you. You try so hard. You always have. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
“A tether,” I whispered.
Kelly nodded. “I think so. Weird, right? You two are the same.