The humid air around me quickly changed to a still, cold atmosphere. A chill I had never felt, even in the coldest winters, pierced my bones.
"Introduce yourself," my grandmother whispered as we reached the edge of the deep forest, where the trees were thick and the ground rough.
I grabbed onto her skirts, burying my face in them. "What if because of my lack of Nightshade, they don't recognize me?" I whispered, scared the woods might hear.
"Nonsense. My blood flows through your veins, Willow. I'll go first," she offered, and as she took a step closer to the threshold, I let her go. "My name is Elma Shade. Elma Shade. Elma Shade." I swore the trees rustled and seemed to calm at her presence, moving their limbs and branches to grant her an open path.
I took a timid step forward, my heart racing into my throat. The air here put me in a state of panic, and I tried to control my breathing as I confidently put my foot on the other side.
The trees rustled in reaction. A stranger. I could barely find the words, barely think, barely breathe—
My grandmother's hand rested on my shoulder, and I looked into her eyes. "No harm will come to you, Willow. Introduce yourself."
An immediate sense of calm washed over me, and I was thankful for her siren speak. Squeezing my eyes shut, I whispered, "my name is Willow Shade." I raised my eyes back up to meet my grandmother's. "Willow Shade. Willow Shade."

I trudged through the snow, tracing the path like the back of my hand. Tonight was a night where every part of the forest peacefully slept; the only sound cutting through the open air was my shoes crunching loudly on the snow beneath me.

Dog wasn't bounding through the space like he did when it was light out; instead, he followed closely on my heels, quietly panting. Listening for any sound.

But it was a silent night.

I followed the familiar path of the trees that my grandmother had shown me. After my first scavenging, it was always me and her. My mom joined when she was in town, which wasn't often. Now, it was just me and Dog.

I felt the familiar sense of the wind pausing in its tracks and the trees stilling to silence as I approached. My heart picked up the familiar feeling of fear, which had never went away, no matter how many scavenges I did. I stepped to the edge of the forest, and looked into it. It was the brightest night of the month, and the white snow was reflected from the bright moon. Shadows played in my vision and I squeezed my eyes shut, stepping over the line which divided safety from danger.

The familiar sound of trees rustling to gauge who I am. "My name is Willow Shade. Willow Shade. Willow Shade." And the familiar sound of them stilling, allowing me to enter.

I took another couple steps forward, and Dog was right on my heels. I began to scan the ground for trinkets, looking for any flashes of silver in the pale light.

Except, something felt terribly wrong.

A pressing in my gut told me that I had to run, that I had to leave as quickly as I could. But I knew how disappointed my grandma would be if I ran from the woods like a scared child, especially after missing the previous scavenge.

I pushed deeper into the woods before my eyes caught hold of something in one of the tree's trunks. I gently reached in, and it revealed itself to be a tiny antique teaspoon. It had intricate flowers pressed into it, and I flipped it over, looking for a date. Instead, a name.

For Beth, My Love.

I smiled and slipped it into my bag. The next few items were few and far between, including an old rag that I didn't take, a child's broken dinner plate with a cartoon character pressed into the center, and a single cheap earring. All things that I had no interest in keeping.

Then, something glinted in the corner of my vision. I turned, and picked up a small jewelry box that was crusted with gems and made of a beautiful black velvet. I smiled as I ran my fingers over it; it was beautiful. I gently cracked it open, and to my horror, a gentle song began to play from it.

I snapped it shut, but the damage had already been done. The trees groaned and began to sway, showing their anger at their sleep being disrupted. I didn't move or breathe until I swore that they were finally back to sleep, in which I put the box in my bag immediately. Don't open containers. Idiot.

"Come on Dog, let's g—" I started whispering, but the canine ran from behind me, seeming to chase something. A single bark rang through the forest, causing a loud rustle of leaves, and terror sliced through me. No.

"Dog!" I whisper shouted, my feet moving before my head could catch up. My footsteps were thunderous in the silent night, and the rustling of the trees increased and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, tears of fear threatening to spill out. "Dog, please!"

He jumped over a rock and disappeared over the edge, and I stopped, having to catch my breath. Thankfully, he had stopped too. And I finally saw what he had been chasing.

An albino butterfly was perched perfectly on a branch, its white body a harsh contrast against the dark wood. And then, I noticed a second butterfly, one with melanism.

My heart caught in my throat and I felt like throwing up. No. No, no, no. I couldn't die, I couldn't, not now. I had barely managed to move past my schooling years.

But the warning was clear: death is nearby.

"Dog, we have to go," I said, so quietly I could barely hear myself as I stepped over the rock and grabbed onto his furry body. He gave me a kiss over the face as an apology, but I felt like my blood was going to explode out of my body.

Then I saw it, clear as day.

A hand sticking out from the snow. Pale blue.

The hand of a dead man.

-

I couldn't stop my started gasp as I fell backwards onto my back, pushing myself as far away from the hand as possible. I collided with the rock and ignored the momentary searing pain that rocked my shoulder blades.

Dog looked at me and whimpered, and then walked over to the hand, brushing it with his nose. My heart was pounding in my head now and my vision went black for a second.

Then I saw it, the subtle movement of the fingers gently flexing.

I had to cover my mouth to keep my horrified scream at bay. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself it wasn't real, and that it would disappear.

But when I opened them again, I saw the same thing as before. A pale, blue, dead hand, gently flexing each finger one by one.

No, not a dead hand.

A living one.

A different type of panic surged me as I realized that there was another person out here, an intruder that the forest had decided to spare. I gasped and crawled on my knees over to the pile of snow where the person must be buried under.

I pawed feverishly at the snow, and Dog watched me with curiosity, whimpering lightly at my actions. He was buried at least an inch deep, and it seemed impossible that he would have lived through however long he had been out here, in these woods, buried under a heavy layer of white powder.

I finally managed to reveal his face, and his eyes were closed tight, his long eyelashes holding onto clumps of powder. I quickly exposed his neck and placed my fingers where his heart string would be and felt no pulse.

He had just been moving seconds ago. No, I waited too long. He was dead, and I let him die.

Or maybe I could bring him back to life.

I cleared off as much of him as I could before I hoisted him up, onto his feet. My strong legs protested against the extra weight, but I had to get him to my cabin, I had to save him.
Snow hung heavy on his pants and his shirt, and wolf whimpered again as I began to walk the way I had came, following my tracks. The trees shuddered with my every step. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I said in my head, cringing at every rustle of a branch and adjustment of limb.

After what felt like a mile walk, I reached the exit. "Goodnight, wood," I said out loud, and left with one more person that I came in with.

-

I kicked open the heavy oak door and didn't care as it slammed into the wall. The fire was too low, he couldn't get warm with this. I quickly placed him on the couch and threw more wood in, then shoved and latched the door closed.

"Come on, come on!" I said urgently as I prodded the wood, and the fire came to life at my words, sparks flying high into the chimney.

I quickly stripped him of his uppermost layer, which was soaked through with snow. I used all my strength to push the couch as close to the fire as I could without it catching, and then collapsed against it. Dog was by my side in an instant, and set his head in my lap. "Good find, buddy," I complimented, rubbing his head. He leaned into my touch and looked up at me with his dark eyes.

Exhaustion seeped into my bones, and I removed my boots and my upper layer of clothing, the room beginning to swelter with heat. I looked at the boy who was now resting on my couch, possibly dead, and felt a blanch come up. I gripped the edge of my cool granite countertop, and began to pace.

Then I remembered the medicine book in the library.

I was moving before I even fully processed it, and scaled 2 steps at a time. I was in the library in seconds, but Dog didn't follow me up this time. I prayed silently he hadn't chewed the poor boy's arm off.

I skimmed the books quickly, reading their titles aloud, until I came to the one I needed. I snatched it in a haste and made my way to go back down the stairs, but heard Dog whimpering from my room.

I looked and saw him standing and staring at the window. And I saw the butterflies, one black and one white, patting against the glass.

Terror rose in me, and I quickly pushed it away. I ran back down the stairs as fast as my throbbing legs would carry me and reached the bottom step with a huff.

I tossed the book down on the counter, flipping to a random page in the middle. Before this. I thumbed through about 50 pages when I found what I was looking for; the recipe to banish the deepest chill from someone's bones.

I prayed he was still alive as I got my tiny jar and measured the ingredients. A handful of rosemary. A teaspoon of ash from a fire in the hottest day of summer. Grass so sunkissed it died. Salt. Red pepper, ground. Seal with red or yellow wax.

I did as instructed, careful not to spill any of the ingredients on the counter, and then took the jar and rushed into the living room.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized the couch was empty.

"Who the hell are you?"