Page 43 of Monster's Pretty Bride

I sit up, rubbing at my arms, glancing around the cabin for the first time with clear eyes.

Something isn’t right.

I didn’t pay attention last night. I was too cold, too exhausted, too caught up in the way my body screamed for relief. But now that I’m awake, now that I see it, this place doesn’t feel abandoned.

The air is still. Too still. Like something is watching.

I stand slowly, moving carefully through the cabin, my fingers dragging along the rough wooden shelves, the scattered objects. Hunting knives, dried herbs. Old bowls still dusted with remnants of whatever was eaten last.

I see something, a notebook.

Tucked deep in the corner, almost hidden beneath a pile of old cloth. I frown, reaching for it, my fingers trembling slightly as I flip open the cover.

Purna script.

My stomach drops.

I flip through the pages, my breath shallow, sharp. The writing is familiar, the looping, elegant script the same form I was raised reading.

A Purna lived here.

Maybe still does.

Shit.

I flip another page, my pulse pounding in my ears. Spells. Incantations. Personal thoughts scrawled along the margins. This wasn’t left behind by accident.

We need to leave.

I snap the book shut, shoving it back where I found it. My hands are cold again, and not from the rain.

Magic lingers here.

Something doesn’t feel right.

I turn back toward Naranus, already reaching to wake him.

Suddenly, I hear it.

Movement.

Outside.

My blood runs ice cold.

I freeze, my muscles locking tight as I strain my ears. The wind howls through the trees, but beneath it, beneath the storm still raging beyond, I hear it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

Circling.

Hunting.

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening at my sides.

Perhaps it’s too late to run away. Whoever’s out there, knows we’re in here.

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