Corin should have retreated at the sight of the weapon, but she couldn’t move. The stranger’s gaze pierced into her skin, as if she were peeling the layers underneath to look inside. Their eyes held each other for an infinite moment, the soft fall of snow blurring in the background, clumps of snowflakes catching in their lashes. The quiet gripped Corin, bit into her skin, left her feeling raw.
Because the stranger didn’t just look at her. She didn’t speak to Corin, spit at her, or even pity her, as if Corin was a ghost who had already passed.
This personsawher.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
Then a breeze came, and the stranger’s expression shifted into softness. Her eyebrows raised, her lips parted, as if realizing something Corin couldn’t pinpoint. She lowered the bow and tucked away the unused arrow. Her silver hair flickered in the sunlight as she fell backward, disappearing into the snow like a mirage.
Corin lunged forward and tried to peer below the branches, butthe girl’s lace dress and powdered hair vanished in a blanket of white. Not even the slightest sign of footprints marred the earth. She disappeared as quickly as she’d appeared.
Corin’s eyes darted around the tree in panic. Her leg stretched to another branch as she tried to maneuver herself on to it. She hooked her arm over one of the limbs and thought she had a good grip, until the wood snapped.
She yelped when she fell, but the landing was soft and rendered her quiet. Bits of crystal fell from her hair as she turned around and scanned her new surroundings. The sun barely rose from the mountains in the distance, rays of light shining between the cracks of trees. The bright colors were too overwhelming for her senses. She rubbed her eyes before stopping from a disturbing realization.
Her hands, once shattered, were now whole.
She took off her gloves and flexed her fingers, waiting for something to crack, yet every bone remained in place. Her fingers ran through her coarse hair, nails digging for dried blood and open wounds that no longer existed.
No. This wasn’t right. Her breaths quickened, panicking. She wanted to scream that this was a trick, some trap to catch her off guard. She should have been dead, but the fact that she was alive scared her. The gentle snow of this place was more frightening than the bitter cold of Gyldan. It told her that she did not belong, because she was not suffering.
Corin jumped at a sudden movement from the corner of her vision. Behind a wide tree trunk, a fox appeared. The animal was small and wild, his pointed ears twitching upon sight of her. His tail whipped around as black, beady eyes stared into hers. A lump formed at the base of her throat. Something unsettling swirledin her stomach, a familiar burning sensation at her fingertips. Before she could make sense of it, the fox moved closer.
Corin took a step back. “What are you?” she hissed.
The fox tilted his head.
“I am breakable.” His voice was distorted, as if his lungs had been shattered. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Her hands scorched in response. She reached slowly for his fur, her fingers stroking through hearth-spun browns. Beneath his coat, she felt it: The cracks in his skin. The shards in her hands. The memory cutting into her like a knife.
Then something hit the back of her head, hard and cold. The fox ran away and disappeared behind the trees. She spun around and prepared to defend herself against the attacker until she saw the spikes of black hair and the small silhouette of a young girl. Corin’s heart stopped in her chest. Flecks of snow turned the child hair into a salt-and-pepper halo, and her dark eyes gleamed with recognition. The girl tossed a second snowball in the air, catching it expertly with her palm. A mischievous grin tugged at her lips.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Elly said.
Corin didn’t move, afraid that the slightest movement would make Elly disappear. But her sister stood in front of her, solid as the truth. Every scab and scar that lined her kneecaps and elbows, every dark freckle that stained her cheeks like stars.
“El,” Corin breathed, “what are you—”
A second snowball struck her face. This time Corin fell with her feet kicking off the ground. She shook ice out of her eyes in time to see her sister running through the trees, her laughter fading in the distance.
A strangled sound ripped out of Corin’s throat. “Stop!”
She caught up to Elly and barreled her to the ground. Theirbones collided in the snow, her sister’s small frame pinned underneath Corin’s heavy chest. Corin wrapped her arms around Elly so tight their skin could have fused together.
“Don’t ever run away from me again.” Desperation cracked in Corin’s voice, stilling the small body beneath her.
In the silence, she held her sister close. The familiar smell of musk and sweat wafted under Corin’s nose as she buried her face in Elly’s hair and let the short spikes tickle her cheeks. Elly’s breath was warm against her skin, and Corin took comfort in hearing it. These were the sounds she needed to fall asleep back home: the familiar drum of Elly’s heart, the pulse of her veins. Proof that she was still alive, bright and beating.
Elly’s voice was muffled as she said, “You still need to say it.”
“Say what?”
“That I was right and you were wrong.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Elly pushed herself off Corin to stand and place her hands on her hips in indignation.
