Erica's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The teacher was gone, but the horses still needed checking. Erica remembered Deacon's warning. If the horses spooked, farmers would notice, and then hunters would come. Her stomach churned, but she pulled on her coat anyway. She stepped out into the snow and started toward the red barn where the horses were kept. She made it halfway. Then her stomach seized like a fist. She doubled over and threw up across the white snow. She wiped her mouth, but it wasn't enough. Her belly was swelling now, hard and hot, pushing against her coat. The pain spread up her sides. Her knees buckled. The barn tilted. Then everything went dark, and Erica dropped into the snow. Lydia had come outside to be sick too. Her own stomach was inflamed and swollen, and she hadn't wanted Malia to watch her throw up and feel worse. Lydia was the oldest, the one who held the pack together, and she never let the little ones see her weak. She bent behind the cottage, one hand on the wall. Then she saw the shape in the snow. Blonde hair. A still body. Erica. Something hot shot through Lydia. Her own sickness dropped away. She ran. Her soft shoes filled with snow, but she didn't slow. She dropped down beside Erica and pressed two fingers to her neck. A pulse. Erica was breathing, fast and shallow. "Erica. Wake up." Lydia's voice was flat and hard. She rolled Erica onto her side so she wouldn't choke. Erica's belly was tight and round under her hand. Lydia had felt this before, on herself, an hour ago. The sickness after the moon, worse this time. "Not out here. You'll freeze." Lydia hooked her arms under Erica's shoulders and pulled. Erica was dead weight in the snow. Lydia's own stomach twisted, warning her, but she gritted her teeth and dragged. Foot by foot, she hauled Erica back across the yard, away from the barn, toward the cottage door. Erica's eyes opened when they reached the step. "The horses," she mumbled. "I have to—" "You can't even stand," Lydia said. "The horses can wait a day. You can't." Inside, Lydia laid her on the couch beside Malia. The little Pomeranian jumped up and pressed against Erica's side. Lydia knelt, breathing hard. Now that the fear was fading, her own sickness came roaring back. She swallowed it down. "We're all going down at once," Lydia said. "Every moon. It's getting worse." She looked at the two sick girls on the couch, then at the window, at the barn she couldn't reach. "The horses can't be trained by someone who keeps passing out." Erica shut her eyes. She had failed to reach the barn. But she wasn't alone anymore. "Then we do it together," she whispered. "When we're stronger." Lydia nodded once. The plan wasn't dead. It was only waiting.