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The forest at night is very still, especially when winter is approaching because all the animals have taken shelter or gone south (like I usually did) for the winter. Because it’s so still, every sound that arises resonates through the trees, bouncing off every branch, every rock, and every fallen limb. Usually, I’m able to identify the sounds immediately because nature is something that I’m very in tune with, something I’ve always understood. I feel the most at home amongst nature, outside where the air is clear and there are no walls to confine me.
I missed flying and I missed my wings more than anything from before I fell. There’s no other feeling like it in the world—when your pair of wonderfully white, sturdy wings lifts you off the ground as though you are a mere grain of sand and propels you up away from everyone and everything to soar through an endless vast space. The air is so thin that you can scarcely feel it against your skin and pulling through your hair… It’s almost as if you are the only thing that exists for one long, delicious moment.
It was the reason I liked to sleep in trees. To feel connected to the air, to be lifted off the ground once more. Well, that and it made sense for protection. If someone was going to attack me, they’d first have to spot me high up amongst a tree’s bountiful foliage, but also manage to not make a sound as they came up after me.
Tonight, I found myself wandering through the forest I like most in this part of Maine. It was on the outskirts of Gran’s farm, just on the other side of the lake that bordered the property. I reached into my coat and pulled out my knit hat, a brilliant shade of blue, and pulled it down over my head, making sure my ears were covered. I didn’t have many material possessions. I didn’t want them. They weighed me down, made me feel heavy. But when I saw this hat in a storefront window, it practically sang my name. Plus, it was practical for keeping warm.
Never mind that the fabric’s shade of blue matched the color of Cole’s eyes almost exactly.
A sound erupted close by. I was unable to identify it immediately, and that set my teeth on edge. It was a low sound, almost a humming, and it was very persistent. I spun in a circle, peering through the night, when I felt something vibrating inside my coat.
My phone!
I unzipped the coat far enough to reach in and pull the phone out of the inside breast pocket and glanced down at the glowing screen. It was Cole. I should’ve known it was him. He was one of the very few that had this number. I disliked even having a phone, but I felt it was necessary, given all the stuff that was going on lately. I stared at his name on the screen as the phone continued to buzz in my hand. It was late, nearly two in the morning, and I wondered what he was doing awake. I hoped the fact that he was calling meant that Kimber had gone home, but since it was so late, I wondered if perhaps she’d just left him and this was his first opportunity to call.
The phone stopped vibrating in my hand and his name disappeared. The words “missed call” flashed across the screen before it went dark. I thought about calling him back, but I knew I couldn’t. Part of me hoped he would leave a voicemail just so I could hear his voice. But he didn’t, and I dropped the phone back into my pocket and continued walking.
The stillness of the forest suddenly was disrupted; I could hear the snapping of branches and the splash of water nearby. A bird called out before lifting up into the sky and flying away. I made my way closer to the sounds, wondering what could be disturbing the night this way.
Seconds later, I saw a dark shape dart from behind a tree and disappear behind another. It was a large shape, and momentarily I was brought back to the past when I’d been out in the forest and had been taken by surprise by an animal of similar shape. Without thinking, I darted through the trees, heading right for its location; only, the spot was now empty. I turned, searching the dark, and saw it disappearing just behind another tree about twenty yards away. This time, instead of running, I disappeared from where I stood to reappear right behind the animal.
It caught my movement, whipped around with a ferocious growl, and launched itself at me. I did the same and the two of us slammed together in mid-air, then twisted to fall toward the ground. I was able to land on top, but the beast bucked and snarled, taking a swipe at me with its massive paw. I was about to pull out my dagger when I caught a flash of gold and gasped.
“Sam!”
The hellhound stopped fighting and blinked up at me, almost as if a cloud was being lifted from his eyes. He blinked. I jumped to my feet, thoughts of needing my dagger gone, and stepped back to give him some space.
The air around us seemed to change slightly as he shifted from beast to man. I averted my gaze, not wanting to catch an eyeful of parts I’d rather not see.
“Gemma?” Sam said, his voice sounding like he hadn’t used it in a while.
“It’s the middle of the night, Sam. What are you doing out here? Is something wrong? Was the farm attacked?” I was instantly alert, looking for something or someone he could be chasing away from the ones he loved.
“No, the farm is safe,” he replied.
My eyes sought him out, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to be looking at him, because of what I heard in his voice. He seemed a little confused and slightly embarrassed.
I wondered if the embarrassment was because he was naked.
He cleared his throat but made no move to cover himself so I guessed maybe it wasn’t that. “Sam, what’s going on?” I kept my eyes on his face, watching for some kind of play of emotion in his features.
He sighed. “I’ve been shifting lately… unexpectedly.”
“At night?”
“Mostly.” He hedged and I knew it had happened in daylight too, but I didn’t press.
“Can’t you shift back?”
He nodded. “I can… but then I’m really edgy and I feel… caged.” He looked down at the ground and I looked at a tree above his head. “So when it happens, I go with it… I run until I feel like I can take being in my skin again.”
Something in his voice squeezed my heart. It was the sound of loss. Of heartache. I recognized the sound even after all these years. “Heven doesn’t know, does she?” I asked quietly.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “No. I don’t want her to worry. She’s been through enough. This isn’t anything anyway, just me dealing…” His voice trailed away.
“Dealing with Logan?” I asked softly.
He nodded, his eyes dropping to the ground again.