Hunter nudges me. “I don’t know what the hell I’ll do if I run into that thing again, but I have to go back.” I’ve always had a morbid curiosity for things, thanks to being born with the ability to see the dead, I’m sure. There’s a connection I’m missing between the dog-creature and the woods, and it’s driving me crazy.
The logical part of my brain is telling me to stay the fuck away from the woods. But I can’t avoid it forever, and if these things are closing in on the stable and attacking nearby farms, I need to get to the bottom of this. What will I do then? I have no fucking idea.
But I can’t sit idly by.
“You’re coming with me,” I tell Hunter and let out a shaky breath. I tuck him under the blankets with me and lie in bed, half terrified and half exhausted, for a good half an hour until I fall back asleep.
I get up for good this time, putting on breeches and a long-sleeved shirt. I eat a small breakfast, skipping the coffee since I’m all jittery. I’m just about to walk out the door when I stop and go into my room, retrieving the dagger Aunt Estelle sent me for my birthday. I know I’m more likely to slice open my own hand than I am properly defending myself, but it gives me a small sense of security.
Misty rain starts to fall when we get to the barn. I put on my jacket and hide the dagger in my sleeve when we walk inside so I can stash my purse in my tack locker. There usually aren’t a lot of people here on Wednesday mornings, and the rain kept some of the regulars at home. I wave to Penny, who’s in the indoor arena working a horse, and start out toward the woods.
I’ve never walked—on foot—out here, and I greatly underestimated the time it takes to get to the end of the trail. It’s raining now, and I pull the hood up on my jacket. It’s cold and this jacket is water resistant but not waterproof. I’m going to be an icicle by the time I get back to the car.
Going around the barrier that blocks off the dangerous part of the trail, I get a bad feeling. I pull the dagger from its sheath, gripping it tight. The urge to run threatens to take over and I have to force myself to take in slow breaths.
The big tree is only a few yards ahead. My eyes dart back and forth, heart speeding up. Hunter, who’s been several paces ahead this whole time, stops and looks back, waiting for me. I’ve kept my mental shields up the whole time, and I need to drop them so I can see what’s out there.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was scared. Stopping right next to the big tree, I close my eyes and push down the mental walls. The bad feeling intensifies and it’s like I’m split in two. I want to run as fast as I can back to the barn, but I’m also being pulled forward.
Nodding to myself, I open my eyes and keep going. I’ve never been past the ravine, since the trail loops back to the barn at this point. I don’t know if this is still Hollow Creek property, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I carefully pick my way down and am out of breath when I climb up the other side.
Tucking my wet hair back, I peer through the trees, fighting against the overwhelming feeling that something terrible is going to happen. I consider myself an intuitive person, but it can be hard to determine what’s actually a gut feeling and what’s me sensing a spirit’s emotions.
There’s a pond with an old rickety dock at the bottom of the hill. I had no idea there was any sort of body of water out here. It’s overgrown with cattails and lily pads, yet something looks off.
The water is too dark. Too still.
“Hello?” I whisper and push forward. “If you can hear me, know I can hear you too.”
Adrenaline surges through me and I whirl around, slashing the dagger through the air and branches snap behind me. I want to run, and for some reason I know there’s an old white barn on the other side of the pond. I’ll see it as soon as I get up the hill, and it’s safe there.