Emery walked home rather than return to school, and her mother hadn't minded. She'd called the office and informed them that her daughter would be staying home for a few days. The woman had never seen Emery in such a state; little did she know that that state hadn't entirely been brought about by the disappearance of a friend.

Absolutely bewildered and agitated, Emery went straight up to her room. She wouldn't eat anything, and she wouldn't speak to anyone. So many things were at work in her--anger, embarrassment, desire--but confusion was chief among them. None of what that person--Cullen--had said made any sort of sense in a rational world. Who spoke in such ways? And oh . . . even saying his name created butterflies. But damn those butterflies! He didn't deserve butterflies from her. And she certainly didn't need their disease. She'd had feelings for all manner of other boys. This horrible, forward stranger? No. No, no, no. His audacity! How dare he grab her like that, and . . . and . . .

She couldn't think of that moment. If she did, she started to enjoy it, and that was unacceptable. He was a pervert, probably, or at the minimum one of those cocky guys who thought any girl would feel privileged . . .

And she didn't. Not at all. She should be the one to decide whom and when to kiss.

Throwing aside a pillow she'd been hugging, Emery went to the mirror standing in the corner of her room. She studied her figure. It was tolerable. She'd always known she was fortunate enough in her slimness, in her height. She wished she had bigger curves in a few spots, but there wasn't much to be done about it. Her hair . . . oh wasn't there some way to tame it? The humidity had turned it into a veritable cloud. She grabbed a brush and began to tear through it, only to grow frustrated and lob the brush against the wall, creating a little dent, which she promptly decided to ignore. Nearing the mirror, Emery examined her face. She'd been wearing makeup for three years, now, but her lashes were long and dark enough that she hadn't needed much. Just a little mascara, sometimes. And her lips were full enough though somewhat pouty. A simple gloss helped when she wanted to look particularly nice.

She didn't have that voluptuousness that Deirdre already possessed. There was no one striking feature about her, except perhaps for her flawless freckled skin (she had fantastic genetics to thank for that), or maybe there was something relatively unique in the way her eyes swept into their own cat-like angle without the need of liner. Oh, but Emery knew she would never be a great beauty. If anything, she looked like a--like a lanky, pointy elf. What in the world had he kissed her for?

Angry, Emery turned the mirror to face the wall. Glancing at her room, she felt suddenly that it was all so childish, so stupid. Her mood board filled with images of beaches and vacations she wished to go on, her journals stuffed with excerpts about crushes and daydreams and thoughts that had at one point seemed profound, her closet full of clothing that all looked so boring, suddenly . . . everything she'd cared about even a week ago had so quickly lost all meaning. It was Adam's disappearance, mostly. She knew that. Her perfectly normal world had been shattered by that. But these other things happening--they were impossible. They were weird. And they, too, were tarnishing her previous view of life as a banal but predictably pleasant greeting card.

Emery had to talk to Tess. She'd been holding too much back. But Tess would be able to offer insight; she was sure of it.

Tess believed in the supernatural, in dreams meaning something, in signs from the great beyond, in astrology and fairytales. She certainly wouldn't laugh at Emery; if anything, Tess would be mad Emery hadn't told her sooner.

So later that afternoon, once school had ended, Emery left the house to meet Tess at a sort of small park nestled amongst the shops and cafes in the main part of town. It was a nice area, a large triangle of grass, planted trees and bushes, built up between the intersection of three roads. Along each converging road were the sorts of establishments that were frequent amongst all such towns across the United States: boutiques and ice-cream parlors, wine bars and gift shops, fast food and bar food eateries. There was a post office, too, as well as a couple of salons and an antique shop or two. The park in between consisted of several secluded areas with benches and umbrellas, and there was a large gazebo in the middle for the occasional summer concert or wintertime Santa meet-and-greet. It was a popular area for young people in general, so when the two arrived, it took them some while to locate a seat away from potentially prying ears and eyes.

Nestling into a corner of a cast-iron bench shaped like a butterfly, Emery watched Tess plop down and begin retying one of her rainbow shoelaces. Emery thought of the time they'd gone to a carnival, visited a fortune-teller of some sort, and had their palms read--how Tess had been told she'd one day be forced to shed her gentle nature and get authoritative. Emery had laughed so hard; trying to picture the childlike, waifish Tess as anything other than lovable and loving was a challenge. Tess wouldn't ever even contradict someone she knew was wrong, for fear of hurting their feelings. The only times Emery had ever seen her speak somewhat harshly had been when one of their peers had been teased for who he was, and even then, Tess had apologized for "having to be so forceful." Tess's forcefulness was a normal person's casual conversation. It was why she was so loved, though--her gentleness. Her concern for everyone before herself. Her ability to give every single person the grace and sincerity they deserved as people. She'd known Tess forever and sometimes wished her friend's compassion for others would rub off on her a bit.

Emery was in general skeptical of most people's intentions, which was all the more reason she needed to talk with her friend, now.

"Weird things are happening to me, Tess," Emery began somewhat absent-mindedly, staring now into a bush. "I didn't want to talk about it, but maybe it all has something to do with Adam."

Tess immediately sat up straight. "Is your stalker back?"

Emery turned and looked right at her friend. "Yes--how'd you . . ? But he won't come again now, I think. Remember how I said I saw him that night of the party, when Adam didn't go home? Well, I saw him again this morning, and he told me that Adam was safe, but he repeated that he'd gone home, and when I asked what that meant, he wouldn't tell me."

"What the heck, Emery! How come you didn't tell me right away?"

"When was I supposed to tell you? It happened just today."

"You could've messaged me."

Emery bit her lip. She couldn't bring herself to tell even this best, most understanding friend about what he'd done to her. "His name is Cullen. And he wanted me to go with him somewhere, but when I told him no, he said he'd come back if I called for him." She frowned. "I don't think he'll be back, now."

"But doesn't he go to school here?"

"No. He said he lived far from here. But listen, Tess. There's more." This was the more unbelievable part. Tess had seen the stalker, so it wasn't much of a stretch to believe that he'd come back. But what had happened in the woods? Oof. Tess was looking at Emery expectantly. "Well, that night in the woods, when we were looking for Adam, I got kind of separated from you all. And this really weird thing happened. I thought I saw these three giant shadows coming toward me. I--I can't explain it. It was so freaky, and I saw them so clearly against this light. They were huge, and--and one of them had antlers."

"Were they deer? There are lots of deer in those woods."

"I think I know what deer look like. They were definitely not deer."

"Ok, it's just, you said antlers, and it was really dark, and I can see how you might get confused. They can be pretty big, deer."

"They weren't deer. Because I was standing there and they were coming at me, and all of a sudden this man appeared out of nowhere--and I swear to God he started waving a sword around and got rid of them. And then he grabbed me and we ran and ran, and then I found you guys. Well, Natalya, at first. Then the rest of you." Emery was expecting a reaction from Tess, but, not seeing one, she elaborated. "He was dressed like some ancient warrior, Tess. Like, long hair and a cape and--and it was so weird. Oh, and he called me lady."

Tess pondered her friend's information. "It's definitely weird that all of this seems to be focusing around you," she eventually agreed, scrunching up her features in what could only be called an adorable expression of contemplation.

Emery breathed out in relief. This was why she'd told Tess. Besides the deer comment, Tess hadn't just brushed her off, told her she was imagining things, looked at her weird. She knew Tess would treat it all as real. Whether or not it was, Emery needed to believe it was. "And dreams. I've been dreaming about this, this beautiful meadow, Tess. Just a few times, but there's something weird about it, something that feels . . . somehow . . ." Emery's eyes turned toward the blue, sunlit afternoon sky, "familiar."

"Oooh! Dreams! Ok ok ok." Tess sat back and held out her hands as if ordering someone to halt. She closed her eyes for a moment, shook her head of short, wavy, blonde hair, and continued, "I love dream interpretation. Meadows, meadows . . . let me see what I remember about meadows." Keeping her eyes closed, Tess breathed deeply, turned her hands palm-toward-self, and ran them up and down her head and chest as if giving herself some sort of scan.

Emery watched in faint amusement. She typically didn't believe in such silliness, though she'd often enough humored Tess, but after everything that'd happened over the last few days, she tried to take on a more serious attitude.

"Ok," Tess said at length, after another few deep breaths and body scans. Her eyes remained closed. "Meadows mean peace. Like, everything being perfect and beautiful. But you have to get there. You can't just be in the meadow." She opened her eyes and looked at Emery, smiling a little. "There's something there about . . . maybe a romance, too?" She grinned devilishly.

Emery huffed indignantly. "No there's not! You just made that part up."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. That's what dream books say, anyway. A new beginning with someone. Whatever it is, it means a good thing. So I wouldn't worry about those dreams." She leaned a little closer to her friend. "Why are you so upset about a romance, anyway? I would think that'd be exciting!"

Emery's thoughts flashed to deep green eyes, a hand on her waist and fingers in her hair. But she shook away the vision as if a chill had come over her, and her features darkened. "I don't have time for anything like that. We have to focus on finding Adam."

Growing serious, Tess nodded. "You're right. So the dreams are probably coincidental. Those darker things you saw--those shapes in the woods."

"They were definitely freaky. I was scared of them. And all of you guys were just gone, so suddenly. I didn't understand how I could've lost you."

"Can you think of any explanation?"

Emery furrowed her brow, looked at the ground. "I wondered if . . . oh, it sounds so dumb."

"What?"

"If maybe . . . they were larpers or something. You know, those Ren fest people? Live action role players? And like, maybe they were doing something in those woods and I just happened to run into them."

"Hmm." Tess nodded. "Not impossible. I mean, deer make more sense, but larpers would work, too." She was about to add something when she instead pulled her leg forward and examined her shoelace, to which a black dog had attached its teeth. "Hey! Puppy!" She bent and rubbed the sleek fur around its neck, and it dropped her laces to pant cheerfully at her, tongue lolling out. "I love you already, little guy! Where'd you come from?"

Turning back toward her friend to see whom she was speaking to, Emery recognized the golden-eyed dog that had been hiding in the bushes in her backyard. It seemed to gaze at her with its swirling, liquid, metallic eyes. "That's the same dog that was in my yard the other day! Saturday morning!"

"You also had a black dog show up in your yard?" Tess jumped up, startling the creature, who backed away and began to whimper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Calm down, Tess! People are watching!" Emery glanced about, embarrassed.

"Sorry, sorry," Tess lowered herself back onto the bench. "It's just that, black dogs . . ."

Emery waited for her to finish, stared at Tess expectantly, but had to push for her friend to finish her thought.

"There are some things that are up for debate when it comes to reading signs, but there's one thing I definitely know. The lore is all in agreement." In all seriousness, she finished: "Black dogs always symbolize death."

For a quiet, humid moment, Emery sat in silence, letting Tess's words sink in. But then she laughed. Tess looked rather offended. "The dog is right here. It didn't show up in some spooky mysterious way; it was just chilling in my yard. And you're petting him, too, aren't you? You see him, too."

"Well, yeah, but--but it came to you first."

"You don't know that. How many black dogs are all over this neighborhood, Tess? You can see a black dog any day of the week, just walking down the street. You think every time you see one, someone's going to die? There'd be people dying all over the place."

The wind had been let out of Tess's sails a bit. Her shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right. But this is a particularly interesting dog. It's so pretty. Look at its eyes! And it did show up the morning after—"

But she cut herself off. The girls exchanged frightened glances. Neither of them was willing to say what both of them were thinking.

Quickly, Emery stood up. "I don't think it belongs to anyone. Let's see if it'll follow me home; I can feed it."

The two of them left the park, walking their bikes, the black dog trotting happily along beside them. Neither spoke much about what they'd discussed, sticking instead to safer topics, like what their friends were up to, or what had happened in school after Emery left. And in that manner, they returned to their homes.