Raven Blackwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The witch was gone when Raven looked up again. She stood alone beneath the split willow, its ivy dark against the trunk. The sun had dropped behind the trees. These were not woods she knew. The creature had chased her far from any road she recognized. She needed walls and a locked door before full dark, or the thing would find her in the open. Raven pushed off the trunk and limped between the trees. Her torn sleeve had gone stiff with dried blood. She listened for the wet, ragged breathing she had heard at the cathedral. Nothing yet. She followed a thin trail downhill, hoping it led somewhere. The light drained fast. Every shadow looked like teeth. Then she saw it. A small cottage sat in a hollow, swallowed by vines and hanging branches. Ivy covered the walls. Moss grew thick on the roof. A door stood under a low porch, half hidden by leaves. Raven ran for it. She shoved the door. It held. She threw her shoulder against the wood until the latch broke, then stumbled inside and slammed it behind her. She leaned on the door and breathed. The cottage was one dim room. Dust lay over a table and a cold hearth. No one had lived here in a long time. It was shelter. It had walls. She dragged the table against the door and sank down beside it. A small sound came from the corner. A soft, dry scratching. Raven froze. She wiped her glasses and peered into the dark. Something crouched near the hearth. It was the size of a rabbit. Its eyes glowed red. Patches of fur hung off rotted skin, and its ribs showed through. The dead thing turned its head and stared at her. It did not run. It did not blink. Raven backed toward the far wall. Her hand found a broken chair leg. The rotted rabbit watched her but came no closer. Then it hopped once, toward the hearth, and vanished into a gap in the stones. She let out a shaking breath. She was not alone, but she was inside. The walls would hold. She slid down the wall and set the chair leg across her knees. For the first time since the cathedral, she was not in the open. Something shifted near the door. Raven looked up. A tall shape stood in the dim corner by the window. It was thin and human-height, poised and still. Its face kept changing. It wore her nose for a moment, then the witch's mouth, then something with no name. One red eye caught the last light. It had been in the room the whole time. It had let her bar the door. It tilted its head and smiled with a mouth that was not quite a mouth. She had not found shelter. She had walked into something's home.