Page 57 of Winter’s Teeth

One second, Fox was behind me.

The next, my savior black bear stood in his place. Depraved, white eyes glowed in the dark while he snapped long canines at the other creature.

His body had rippled, steam poured off him, and then black hair broke out all over when his spine cracked and his back hunched. He grew five sizes larger, and then he wasn’t himself at all.

Fox was my savior.

Fox was my black bear.

Fox was—

Hell, I didn’t know what he was.

Round two was about to ensue, and I was caught in the middle. Again.

The bigger beast snorted, clearly pissed to run into us again. He pawed the ground, cloven hooves leaving behind deep gashes in the dirt and raking straight through roots and rocks. It was hard not to imagine what sort of havoc those sharp appendages could wreak on my body. Fragile and soft—it would be like cutting through fresh snow.

The bear roared, and I dropped to my knees, hands over my head just before Fox leapt straight over me.

The two creatures collided. The crack of their impact was like trees falling or lightning striking. Deafening and too forceful to be safe.

Snarls and vicious snapping of teeth filled the forest, scaring off everything. Scaring me. I wanted to run, but my limbs betrayed me, refusing to do anything other than tremble in place.

Another crash jerked me out of my frozen panic, and I finally looked up just as the creatures grappled and rolled to the east side of the cabin.

Now’s my chance!

I could make a run for it, or I could break into the cabin to rescue my sister while the coast was clear. Having come too far to run now, I dashed to the cabin door the second the path was clear, hauling on the padlock to break it off the aging wood.

Before I could bust in, the bear let out a keen yelp that snapped my gaze away.

Pinned under the horned beast, claws anchored in his shoulder, Fox squirmed in agony to get away while every shift tore skin and fur off his body. The other beast snapped its jaw, getting closer and closer to Fox’s bared throat with every beat.

He’s going to die. The thought dropped in my mind like a pebble hitting calm waters. Clear and unmissable: Fox was going to die, and maybe before I got into this cabin.

I flew through my bleak options—run for help, keep trying to break into this cabin without Fox, or stay and fight. The first option was the smartest. The second was so-so. The third was arrant lunacy, and yet...

It was the third option that I chose.

I lunged for a fist-sized rock at the base of the cabin steps, lobbing it as hard as I could at the horned creature’s head. Thank you very much, high school softball.

The rock connected with the side of the horned beast’s head, knocking it off balance and giving Fox a few seconds to wriggle free and catch his breath.

Well. Shit, I lamented when I realized I had stolen the vicious creature’s attention. Its sulfurous eyes narrowed on me.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t expected this outcome. I knew throwing that rock was unwise. I knew I had worse odds than Fox when it came to withstanding an attack from a creature with mythical proportions.

Yet, I had done it anyway. I would do it again.

I mentally pinned another badge for stupid choices I’ve made in my life to an invisible sash. Taking a beating for someone else even if I would get it worse seemed to be a bad habit of mine.

Why, at a time like this, I started thinking about my childhood made no sense to me. I was two seconds from dying, and instead of thinking about regrets or even the highlights of my life, my frazzled brain played the movie of my worst memory at lightning speed. Like I didn’t deserve to go out happily. Like I deserved to remember one more time how unwanted, how unloved, I really was.

“I want her out of the house. Tonight,” Clara hissed.

“And where am I supposed to send her?” my father rebutted. Their voices were muffled by the floor between us. As soon as their fight started, I ran to Everly’s bedroom to hide under her bed in the dark. Everly had yet to return from theater practice, but her room would always be my safe haven.

“I don’t care! Just get her out!” Clara screeched.