She headed to the hut the day after. Where else might she go? Her feet knew this path, and they followed it blindly. She’d threaded the red ribbon in her hair again in a sign of false festivity that morning, and she brushed her fingertips against it as she walked.
High above, a raven cawed, shadowing her through the forest until she reached the old place and walked in, shaking her head, snowflakes cascading down her shoulders onto the floor and quickly melting. He had already stoked the fire and lit the candles.
Nathaniel sat in a chair and smiled at her. “It’s a bit late,” he said. “Near dark.”
“It’s always near dark now,” she muttered.
The sun set so early; scarce few hours of warmth held back the night. Almost velvet black, it stretched above their heads, the stars like diamonds, the moon a silver disc, and the snow an ivory mantle.
She looked out the window at that pretty sight and considered slipping back into the twilight, into the coming dark. He must have guessed her thoughts. He stood up at once and took hold of her.
“We’ll run away together,” he assured her.
If she had not been certain before, then his words sealed the truth. Or rather, the lies. She realized he had not meant any of the things he’d said. They would never be together. In the spring he’d make an excuse, then another.
“I love you,” he said.
She slapped him. “Fraud! Liar!” she yelled. “You’re not mine, you’re hers!”
“Judith, please, listen—”
“Not this time, no.”
He explained, he pleaded, threatened, cajoled, tried to reason with her, pleaded again. She wept. In the end, she pressed her mouth against his to silence him. He stroked her hair and said she was beautiful, perfect.
She attempted to lie to herself and to believe his finely spun lies, too, in a desperate act of self-immolation. Yet it did no good, and when they moved toward the bed, she remained lost, alone, bone chilled. It was like trying to revive a fire when water has been poured on it: there was only smoke.
She thought she heard a noise outside, a faint scratching. Perhaps it was the wind battering the shutters.
She found no pleasure in his embrace, not the faintest ember of it.
She eventually curled up on the bed, laughing brokenly at herself and the emptiness inside her chest. He must have taken this for honest contentment because he fell into a happy and peaceful slumber even though she lay mangled at his side.
The windows were frosted a ghostly white, and she approached the glass, tracing different shapes with her fingers. Outside, she could see nothing. Not the stars, not the trees, just the ghastly snow.
Again, there came a sound, a scratching, and she frowned.
A wolf howled right by the window.
Judith turned her head, ready to wake up Nathaniel, but something stilled her. She thought she heard a humming she recognized. Was the stranger outside too?
The sound moved, the howl repeating itself, but now it was a little farther away; it drifted until she thought the wolf was at the door.
She moved toward the entrance, the cold nipping at her body as she pressed her ear against the door.
Judith stood still and listened again.
The howl rose, making the wooden boards beneath the soles of her feet vibrate.
She stared at Nathaniel, who slept still, bewitched or simply exhausted. The rifle was by the entrance, but she did not bother grabbing it. She yanked the door open. The wind battered her skin; flakes fluttered and tangled in her black hair.
In walked a liquid darkness with teeth that gleamed white as the snow—a darkness that possessed quicksilver eyes, resembling the edge of a knife. A few candles bent and sputtered, as if fleeing the enormous creature, whose claws clacked against the floor.
For a second, she thought to raise her voice in a shrill, stupid scream, rousing the hunter.
But the darkness grinned at her, a grin as hard as ice, composed of a multitude of jagged teeth that could snap bones with a single bite.
She recognized him now.
She’d always known her lover would come from beyond the forest.
Gently she closed the door behind him and showed him the bed where a warm meal might be had.