Page 245 of Silver Elite

He glances warily at the tendrils of mist rolling in at the outskirts of the clearing. “Think I’ll be safe grabbing some firewood from there?”

“Yep. Just stay on alert for cats and horned bears.”

“Fuck you,” he says again.

I venture into the hut, smiling at the pieces of twine nailed along the log wall and hanging from the ceiling. All the stupid, silly knickknacks I forced Uncle Jim to display when we lived here. Feathers. A white coyote tooth we found in the forest. In the corner of the hut sits our supply chest. I should scavenge it, although it might be prudent to leave most of its contents here in case I ever need to come back. The thought is depressing. But not outside the realm of imagination.

I shuffle through the wooden crate, cataloging the various first-aid supplies, balms, solar batteries. Two handguns and several full clips of ammunition. I frown when my fingers feel something plastic at the bottom of the chest. It’s a bag, I realize.

Furrowing my brow, I pry it out and flip it over to study the contents. The plastic bag contains a faded white envelope.

My heart leaps into my throat. I instantly recognize Jim’s handwriting.

Wren

Eagerness clamps around my throat. The urge to read the letter is so strong, I’m practically clawing the envelope out of its protectiveenclosure. Before I can unseal it, Xavier’s muffled voice comes from beyond the hut.

“Hey. Let’s get this fire going.”

Shit. I can’t do this now. I have no clue what Uncle Jim would even write in a letter to me, and the last thing I want is for nosy Xavier to be peering over my shoulder while I read Jim’s words.

I fold the envelope and tuck it into my pocket, then step out to help Xavier.

—

We decide to break camp, even though it’s probably only about two in the afternoon. That’s usually when the light starts to leave us. When the shadows start dancing over the clearing as they are now.

“It’ll be pitch black soon,” I warn Xavier.

“Attwo?” he whines.

“Yep. Suck it up, sweetling.”

We just ate dried beef from his pack and a can of soup we heated over the fire. He used a lighter to get the fire going, and he’s toying with it now, popping the lid open and closed, absently striking it to release a hiss of orange flame.

“Why does this work here but not in there?” He nods toward the mist that surrounds our small haven from all directions.

“I don’t know. It’s something about the way the light refracts in this clearing.”

“You’ve really never gone all the way to the end? Gotten out from the other side?”

I shake my head. “I was five years old when we came here, and we left when I was eight. There was no way Jim was letting me gallivant around this nightmare at that age.”

“Didheever try? Did he leave you here while he went to investigate?”

“Yes, but the longest he ever left me alone was maybe sixteen hours or so?”

Xavier does the math. “So let’s say he managed to make his way tothe end of this nightmare…That’s eight hours there and then eight hours to walk back here.” He rubs his forehead, looking unhappy. “You’re saying we have at least eight more hours to go tomorrow?”

“At least. We might even have to make camp in there.”

“Sounds fun.”

“But we get to sleep here tonight,” I say, trying to cheer him up.

He looks toward the hut. “I call possession of the adult-sized bed in there.”

I glower. “It’s my house.”

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