Erin pressed her back against the cabin wall and tried to breathe. The little wooden shelter had felt like a gift hours ago, when she and the other two stumbled through the trees and found it waiting between the trunks. Now it just felt like a box. Four of her friends were dead. She had watched each one go and done nothing. She needed something, anything, to hold in her hands the next time the woods came for them. A branch snapped outside. Erin jolted upright, fists clenched around nothing. She crept to the window and stared into the dim trees. A tall deer stepped into view, antlers wide as a chandelier, calm as still water. It looked right at her. Her heart slammed against her ribs, then slowed. Just a deer. Just a deer. She sank down beneath the window and pressed her palms flat to the floorboards. Empty hands. Always empty hands. When she stood again, she crossed to the back of the cabin and began pulling open every drawer, every cupboard. She would not be unarmed when the noise outside stopped being a deer.