I feel paws on my chest, trying desperately to entice me out of sleep. I groan. "Five more minutes," I say huskily, pushing the large dog off of me and off my bed, keeping my eyes closed. I can already tell the weak sunlight coming through the windows is going to be enough to keep me out of my sleep, but a little longer with my eyes shut would certainly get me awake enough for the day. I hear Dog whimper and jump back on the bed, resorting to licking my face. "Oh, God, gross," I say, trying to push his face away from me. "Okay, okay, I'm getting up."

I sit up, and my large white wolf is looking at me, tongue lolling out of his mouth. I smile, giving his head a good rub before I force myself up.

I look out the window and take in the bright white landscape, littered with snow and bare trees, increasing in density until it's only a blur of white-topped trees and sharp mountains.

Three weeks ago, the nearly annual snow-in happened, and all communications down the mountain were cut off, along with all the roads. Only about 35 people resided at the top of the mountain, most being from the boy's correctional camp only a mile from my house, so the roads getting plowed was never a priority. I had lived on the mountain my entire life, so it never bothered me. It was my favorite time of the year. The solitude, the crisp winter air, it all comforted me. Memories of my grandmother making me a cup of tea with our assortment of dried herbs and my mother reading me stories by the fire are some of my dearest.

I tug on two layers of pants, thick socks, and a couple jackets before heading downstairs, Dog hot on my heels. I run my hands down the wall, seeing dents and carvings from all the Shade women who lived here before me. I brew some strong coffee mother had gotten on her last trip and pry open the nearly-frozen oak door to let Dog relieve himself. He bounds into the snow, nearly disappearing in it entirely. I make myself a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and eat that while I wait for the coffee to strengthen. After I finish my meal, I pull on my thick leather boots and head into the wilderness after Dog, a hot thermos of coffee in my hand.

The landscape is clear, the sky lightly littered with clouds and the only noise being the occasional bird tweeting or the trees groaning with effort. I take a deep inhale of the fresh air, watching my breath disappear into the endless landscape. Across the lake, nearly obscured by trees, I hear a boy's yell and soon they come into view, dots of black harsh against the white landscape. They take notice of me and quickly retreat back to the camp.

My family has been feared for years without reason, called derogatory names and avoided like the plague. When I was in school, I was mercilessly teased and hated until one of my main tormenters fell ill. I convinced everyone I had done it, and had been left alone ever since.

The isolation is one of the most comforting things, when it's just me and my mom at the house. Laughing and swapping stories with the one person I know I can fully trust is the only thing I've ever needed; when I was younger, I would occasionally make friends with a boy from the camp, but one boy put a stop to that.

Dog was already a couple yards ahead of me, prancing through the snow and chasing any hint of wildlife he detected. We were heading toward Mr. Leland's house, the only other full-time resident of the mountain. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had, but he was getting almost too old to take care of himself, so I was sure to check in on him every day.

Especially during the winter months.

Finally, me and Dog reached the path to his house, a divide in the trees. His old cabin was in excellent shape, and I walked up the sturdy wooden steps to the door, giving it a light knock. "Mr. Leland?" I called.

I heard stirring inside, and then a "Coming!" from the other side. I grabbed the coffee thermos to warm my hands, trying to brush my unruly hair best I could out of my face and flat on my head. I heard the door creak, and Mr. Leland was standing there, smiling ear to ear. "Good morning, Willow! Come on in. Excuse the mess, I didn't have a chance to tidy up."

Me and Dog stepped through the threshold, and Dog demandingly rubbed his head on Mr. Leland's hand. Mr. Leland laughed and gave him a thorough rub before turning to me. "I have some coffee for you," I said, passing him the thermos. "Mom got it from Cuba, she told me." He took the thermos and took a deep inhale of the beans.

"Where is she now?" He asked, sipping gingerly at the coffee before making a pleased face, closing the door behind me. I took my boots off and headed to my favorite rocking chair in his living space, crossing my legs.

"No idea. She left only a few days before the storm and said she'd be back in two weeks, but I guess the storm snowed her out." My mother's ability was being able to press any ordinary pebble into gems of all sorts. Most became regular stones like quartz, but occasionally she'd get rarer gems, and she travelled the world to sell her most prized ones. She'd always come home with a new gift for me. This time I was hoping for a new pair of snow boots as I desperately needed.

"Well, I hope she gets here soon. Storm is pretty bad this year, eh? More snow than we've seen in a long time." He clucked his tongue in his mouth, going to the fire and gently prodding it.

"I don't mind it," I said mindlessly, looking out his window to the expanse of trees and white-riddled ground. A rabbit hopped through the snow, lifting its nose to the air for a second before scampering out of sight. Dog came and hopped onto the chair with me, laying lightly on my lap.

Mr. Leland looked at me with a sparkle in his eye. "I know you don't," he said, moving around his cabin and picking up any dishes he had lingering around, "but us non-magicals need the warmth." He moved to the sink and placed all dishes inside. He looked at me and gave me a wink. I chuckled, stroking Dog.

"You're magical in your own way, pops."

Mr. Leland didn't know that I, in fact, was not magical. Every woman in my family had their own unique Nightshade. My mother was able to press stones into gems with nothing but her hands, my grandmother was a siren with words and could change your mood with just a few mumbles, my great-grandmother could burn or freeze anything she touched, and so on.

But I was seemingly completely ordinary.

Anytime I would feel down about my lack of ability, my grandmother would tell me a tale of my ancestors who thought they were without power. Their Nightshade came late, some as late as their final day alive. I would always ask the same question: has any woman in our family never had an ability? And she would brush me off, saying that I would have the best Nightshade the world had ever seen.

It wasn't until I was old enough to reach the book of our family's history did I find out the truth.

Hundreds of years before, my too-many-greats-to-count grandmother never had an ability. In fact, she never uttered a word in her entire life. She came into life silently, and left silently, with no recorded impact on the world or the Shade legacy. And from a young age, I accepted this could be my fate.

Me and Mr. Leland sat for another few hours, talking about anything that came to mind, before Dog pestered me to go out again. He must be hungry.

"Alright Mr. Leland, it's time for me to head home and feed this savage beast," I joked, rubbing Dog around his ears and receiving a kiss in return. Mr. Leland chuckled.

"Stay warm out there."

"You, too."

I headed out of his cabin, shutting the door firmly behind me before descending the stairs to go home. As I stepped back into the clearing, I saw boys across the lake playing with a ball, chasing each other back and forth and heartily laughing. I ignored them, instead just walking my own way back to my house.

My cabin was tucked behind a thin lining of trees, with a thick brush of trees behind it. The trees seemed to greet me as I stepped up my porch and swung my door open, Dog rushing in past me. He took his spot my the fire while I made him a meal of kibble, herbs for health, and a couple rabbit's feet.

He ate in silence, and I checked the time. It was nearly 1 pm. When night fell, I would travel into the deepest parts of the woods, the part where only Shade women had ever travelled. I could only do this once a month, going into the woods to find lost things and break them back to my house.

There were cluttered shelves lining nearly every wall in the house, filled with generations of lost items. There were things from before any settlers had formed the town at the base of the mountain, before the boy's camp was established. Lost things always get found, that was one sure thing with the Shades.

I walked through the creaky house, that despite its age, never seemed to have a toll taken on it. Our ancestors put a spell to keep our foundations sturdy and make the wood unable to rot, grandmother had once explained to me. Despite this, dents and carvings lined the wood. In the downstairs, there was the kitchen, three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Upstairs, the library, two more rooms and a bathroom resided. The house was built for a large family, for generations of women, but for now it was just me and my mom. I stepped into my younger sister's room and felt my head swirl slightly as I took in everything. Aspen's ability had been apparent from the day she was born; she was stronger than any mortal person alive. And yet, she could not save herself from drowning.

Her room would be untouched until the next Shade woman was born. I walked around her overly-pink room, picking up a doll and observing it. A frown creased my brow and I replaced the doll, moving swiftly out of the room, feeling the weight of the walls pressing down on me. I looked at my grandmother's shut door right across the hall, but couldn't bring myself to open it. I swiftly returned to Dog, sitting down on the couch in front of the fire and mindlessly enjoying the crackling of the flames.

After a few more hours of restlessness cleaning and mindless snacking, the sunset finally turned the landscape outside deep shades of pink and orange. I looked outside, my breath catching in my throat. It was time. Every month, when the full moon rose, the trees slept and allowed the passage of the Shades into its depths, to do their monthly retrieval of items that were long lost.

I grabbed my bag swiftly, adjusting it across my front, and re-layered my clothes. My boots got pulled on last of all, when the sun was just showing it's last shred over the mountains. The first stars in the night sky had made their appearance.

I took one deep breath for confidence, Dog at my heels, and pulled open the heavy oak door.