My eyes opened slightly, but the bright light in the room made me snap them shut. My head was pounding hard, and I reached up my hands to cover my temples. I was facedown against light blue tile.

What the hell happened?

I was in an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar bathroom, and the air was still and cold. I groaned as I forced my eyes open again, blinking hard to try and shoo the hurt that came with it.
I pushed myself up and my left hand slipped on something, but my left kept me steady.

Blood?

I reached up to my head where I felt burning, and a small gash stretched from right above my left ear to the top of the back of my head. I winced as I felt it, but it seemed to have scabbed over in the night.

What time is it?

I forced myself to my feet, steadying myself against the tub and looking in the mirror above the sink.

Jesus. My hair was matted with dried blood and it had dried on my brown skin, clinging like the plague. My right cheekbone looked red and swollen.

I pushed myself off and stumbled to the door, trying the handle. Locked. What happened what happened what happened what happened? I kept repeating in my head, massaging my temples to try and ease away the hurt and bring back my memory.

I stumbled over to the sink, turning on the faucet and nearly letting out a cry of relief when I discover the pipes aren't frozen. I take my cupped hands and greedily drink from the faucet before raising myself up and looking back in the mirror.

Bathroom. First aid kit.

I drop down faster than intended and my head swirls for a moment, but stability is regained. I throw open all cabinet doors, rummaging through the items on display.

And then in the back, there it is. A red cross over a translucent box. I grab the handle and pull it onto the floor, opening and seeing everything I have.

Hydrogen peroxide. I take it out, remembering my first aid class in middle school where we were taught how to clean wounds. What would keep a head injury closed? I think, looking at the bandages and cotton balls I have as options. Shit. This kit is for kids to patch up a skinned knee, not to help someone with head trauma. I read a pill bottle at the bottom: for pain relief, it reads, and I open it and take two immediately. This isn't going to be fun.

I grab the spray bottle and aim it towards my head, squeezing my eyes closed. I then squeeze rapidly, feeling the burning hot of it cleaning the wound and bubbling.

I let out an involuntary sound, and for a second I think I'm gonna pass out again. I steady myself against the wood in front of me, then after it subsides, I take a cotton ball to dab off the surface and do it again.

Second time was easier than the first, but I'm still out of breath with tears pricking my eyes after I finish. I continue to inspect under the sink, finding a small towel to use to wipe the blood off me. and so I force myself back up, using the sink water to clean off my face, neck, and the hair farthest away from the injury. And after I'm done, you can hardly even tell anything happened.

I look at the small pool of blood on the floor and throw the rag on it. Okay. What happened? I strain my memory, trying to remember anything. I was in my room. I heard the trees panicking so I went out to investigate. Fire. Tackle. Tall boy busting down door...names? What were their names? I press my fingers into my temple. Natalie was there. Matt. Jon. Aiden. They locked me in here. My vision got blurry and I slipped, I remembered, casting a sidelong glance at the large tub.

If I was concussed, I wouldn't be able to get to a hospital for another month or two, I thought with a cringe. I just needed to get out of this room. I was freezing, I realized, my whole body shaking. If I didn't die from my head hitting the ground, I would die from freezing.

Motion in the house made me freeze. No drone of words could be heard, but light footsteps up the stairs had me whirling around to look for a place to hide. Nothing. I was trapped.

"Is she in here?" I heard a familiar voice asked, and I immediately stopped spinning. A bark in response, and then I heard the door shifting. I backed myself against the wall, heart in my throat.

The door flung open and Chris was standing there, looking unsurely around the room. He saw the blood and his eyes went wide, and then he saw me, most likely looking like a caged animal.

"Chris!" I sigh, and he runs towards me, immediately inspecting my face.

"What the hell happened? Jesus, you're freezing. Are you hurt?"

"We need to leave, now," I say. Dog sniffs the blood and then looks at me, concerned. "We're not safe here. We need to go."

Chris nods, taking my hand and leading me out of the house swiftly, his footsteps barely a whisper on the ground. Dog is leading the way back to the house, but his tail is down and he's scanning the landscape. My house isn't too far from this one, thankfully, and we make it back in one piece. I slam the door behind me, thankful for the fire that's still running, and put all three locks on. I pull any curtains closed.

I finally sit on the couch, taking off my snow boots and my socks. I press my fingers into my temple as the headache throbs full force.

"Where did you go?" He asked quietly. He was sitting right next to me now, inspecting my face.

"I know who you killed," was what came out instead. "Lucas."

His eyes went wide for a second with recognition at the name. "Lucas," he repeated, then put his head in his hands. "God."

"Aiden. Jon. Matt. Natalie. They were having a fire in the forest late last night, discussing it."

"Why were you out there?" He asked, throwing me a look of disappointment. "Why didn't you wake me up, or take Dog?"

"I just thought it was gonna be some random boys. Normally they leave after they get caught, but these ones...They were talking about how Lucas was dead, and you ran away, and how they had no part in any of it. They were talking about killing me just for being there," I explained. "Natalie tried to, anyway. Instead they locked me in that house and I slipped for just a moment, and then I woke up covered in my own blood." I lifted my hair to show him the wound. "I don't know if they ever planned to come back for me. But if they did, and they see I'm gone, their next stop is going to be here."

He formed a thin line with his lips and went deep into thought. "Is there anywhere we can go?"

Mr. Leland's house. But I don't want to put him in danger. Those boys locked me in there without hesitation. I don't know what they'd do to him. I shook my head no. "Plus, I don't want to leave my house unattended. It has everything from every Shade." I reached my hands up to my temples, rubbing in light circles.

He sighed heavily. "We can stay here. I'll protect you as best as I can, but they're stronger than me. Three versus one is a hard battle," he released my hand and looked down at his own, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Aiden is terrifying," I admitted, remembering how he loomed nearly 8 inches over me and had muscles that were apparent even under his jackets and thick pants. Chris was taller than me, but not by that much, and his build was slimmer.

"I remember," Chris replied, looking distant for a moment. "But they wouldn't come today, not while it's bright out."

His eyes suddenly drifted to behind me, to the window, where I heard the rhythmic tap, tap, tap. I didn't even have to look to know it was the butterflies.

"They really are following you," he commented. I sighed and nodded, looking down at Dog. He was turning 3 this year, in February. I smiled at him and he give my hand a mindless kiss.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered, feeling the ball in my throat return. "I can't leave them to rummage through my house. It's the only home I've ever known. But I watched Aiden kick down a wooden door like it was nothing, so why wouldn't he be able to smash a window in with ease?" My head began to swim at the threat of tears, and I pressed my palms into my eyes instead.

"You need to rest," Chris mumbled, pushing himself up. "Me and Dog will keep watch while you sleep. And you need to stay hydrated." He moved into the kitchen while talking, running some water into a cup and looking around in cabinets for any food we may have. "You guys have so many spices," he commented, opening and closing pantry doors.

I pushed myself up and followed him in, grabbing the water and pulling myself onto the counter. I sipped while he pulled out oats, one of the only things we had left in the house, and began to boil some water. We sat in a comfortable silence while he prepared everything, but I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder at the butterflies, dancing and weaving around each other.

Death was near.

-

Elma Shade died peacefully in her sleep on the morning of February 17th, 2019, at the age of 77.
Her daughter, Magnolia Shade, found her. And she did not cry. She had been ready.
Magnolia's only daughter, however, cried for hours in her room. The seasons were beginning to change, and the snow outside was melting, much to her relief. It had been the longest winter of her life.
Her mother made her her favorite breakfast, which she could hardly stomach, so instead she pushed it around her plate. After hours of staring off into nothing, she finally decided to journey outside, her head too stuffy indoors. She walked around the woods for hours, and everything she saw reminded her of her grandmother and her sister who passed only a few months before.
Finally, she found a clearing in the trees, and sat and cried. And she cried, and cried, and cried until her well of tears dried up, and then she sat and pondered.
From the corner of her vision, she saw movement. She was on her feet in an instant, looking in the direction of the motion, and saw a little white dog there, staring at her with the same alertness she had.
She was glued to the spot, unable to move as the pup slowly crept towards her, sniffing the ground where she had just sat. And she realized that it was not a dog, in fact, it was a wolf.
"Hey, dog," she said quietly, and got on her knees, offering her hand. The wolf stared at her for a moment, unsure of whether the ground he was treading was safe, but he decided to give her a sniff.
She rubbed between his ears and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and a smile grew on her face. He had pale white fur and black eyes, but she saw no maliciousness in his gaze. "Where's your mom?" She asked him, but he just looked up at her.
The sun was beginning to set in the sky, so Willow stood, saying a goodbye to the wolf. But as she trudged her way back home, the wolf seemed to like her, and was right on her heel.
As she reached her cabin, she sighed and spun around, looking at the little pup. She firmly put her hands on her hips.
"My mom isn't gonna like this," she warned, and the wolf just looked up at her. But he allowed her to scoop him into her arms, and right then and there, she declared, "Your name is going to be Dog."