Something had changed since yesterday, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I could not say that I didn’t miss him, but it scared me. Something about his vulnerability was uncanny and ill-fitted him. It made me fear something far worse than the creature itself... It made me fear beingwrongabout him.
Two years ago, I had nothing to lose—maybe Phoebe—but as I found out, she was never in any danger at all. Now, I have family, property, and a public-facing reputation.
Everything was on the line. It made me all the more hesitant to let anyone have any part of me. I was married to my work, and I would not be taking mistresses.
“Are you awake?” Phoebe crawled over to my side of the bed.
“I think so,” I whispered back to her, glancing over my shoulder.
“Are you busy today?” she hummed.
“Not terribly, only tending to the animals.” I rolled over to my side to face her. “I’d rather stay in bed. It’s gotten so cold. I feel it in every joint now.”
“You need someone to cuddle with,” she teased, wrapping her arms around me.
I rested my chin on her head and closed my eyes.
“I wish we could just lie here all day.”
“We have chores to do.”
“I know. That won’t stop me from wishing.” She shrugged.
After we reluctantly left the comfort of the bed, we tidied up the sheets and got ready for our day.
We made breakfast for the house—blueberry porridge and eggs. I was not much of a cook, but I could cook eggs. Phoebe took care of the porridge. I still do not know how she could cook without tasting it herself. She would make me taste it occasionally to check during her process, but naturally, she seemed to understand how to balance flavors without tasting them.
After breakfast we cleaned, splitting up to sweep the entire house. While Phoebe dusted, I cleaned out the fireplace and brought most of the charcoal outside.
All weekend chores were typically done by sundown. We spent time in the barn to tend to Duchess and Horse. They were both a bit dusty since we let their coats grow out so they would not be as cold. The only downside was that the longer fur and hair would catch every speck of dirt, hay, and dust possible.
“I don’t understand how he gets so dirty, even with the blanket on,” I complained as I scrubbed the curry comb over his coat, each flick of the bristles kicking up debris.
“I can’t say I’ve suffered that same affliction. Duchess is a perfect princess who does not get dirty,” Phoebe laughed.
The stalls were separated by a piece of wood and metal bars starting halfway so that the horses could see each other. Phoebe was in Duchess’s stall, braiding and sewing the hair into little neat knots along the crest of her neck.
“I am tempted to roach his mane, cut it all off so he cannot turn it into a nest for the birds.” I pulled the brush through his tangled hair.
“He would look handsome either way,” Phoebe hummed. “Right, Duchess? Would Horse look handsome if he were bald?”
“I give up. I think I need to go back inside and get my comb for his hair.” I tossed my brush into the wooden box with the rest of the grooming supplies. “You are amess.” I patted him on the side of his neck, giving him a good scratch high on his shoulder.
The horses were startled by a high-pitched screech, rearing slightly in the stalls.
“Whoa! Whoa!” I tried to calm Horse as he yanked on the cross ties. Phoebe had already left the stall, grabbing the shotgun propped against the side of the barn.
I shoved the stall door to the side to follow, running toward the wood-splitting stump to yank the axe out of it.
Someone was on the ground, the white snow already stained red. A jittering pale thing slouched over the small form.
“You!” I screamed at it.
Its neck rolled, vertebrae by vertebrae, to crane in our direction. Its eyes were undoubtedly human, corrupted, filled with dead blood. Fresh crimson from beneath it drooled in thick streams of saliva as it chattered its teeth at us, its dried lips curling back.
I ran toward it, and it mirrored my actions, lunging at me as I swung, my blade swiping the side of their face. I wasn’t close enough; the blade cut through both cheeks and passed between the upper and lower jaw. The loose flesh flapped to the side, and steam rose from the fresh blood.
It screeched and lunged again, grabbing my axe and tumbling us to the ground. It snapped its jaws at me, blood dripping onto my face as I shoved the axe handle up into its jaws to keep it from gnawing on me.
