Hunter needed to respond. He needed to say something back.
Why aren't you saying anything?
Hunter’s mouth opened, but fear strangled every word before it reached his lips. His mind emptied under the weight of her body.
“What were the words? How did the song go?” She slammed her hands on his chest, forcing a wheeze out of him.
“Dashing through the snow,” he gasped in tune. “In a one-horse open sleigh.”
“I have never heard that song,” she said.
“It’s a Christmas song.” He sucked in air, steadying his breath, though his heart thumped wildly.
She tipped her head back as if listening for a melody in the wind. “I know a Christmas song too, but yours sounds happier than mine.”
“Christmas is supposed to be cheerful,” he managed. His mind spat curses at him.
What kind of conversation was this?
“Is it really?” Her doubt dripped from each word.
“Why were you in that tree?” He risked the question, but his courage fled when she pressed her chest against his and brushed her nose along his cheek, inhaling him like a wild animal scenting prey.
“You don’t smell like the forest,” she whispered. She leaped off him so fast he lost track of her for a heartbeat. She moved like no human he’d ever seen.
Her face, though delicate, was older than her fragile body hinted at. He would guess that she was in her early thirties. He heard his father’s voice reminding him that women did not like being told how old they looked, so he wisely kept the thought to himself.
“I lost my watch,” Hunter blurted, scrambling for sense. “It was a gift. I came back to find it.”
She stood above him, legs spread, bending at the waist like a cat about to retch up a nightmare offering. He begged the universe not to let her spit animal bones on him.
“Sweet silver bells,” she whispered. Every word dripped like a spell that bound him tighter.
“Is that your Christmas song?”
She flicked her eyes sideways at him, suspicion swirling in her stare.
“How long were you in that tree? Do you need help?” The vines slackened. He rose slowly, extended his hand, and forced calm into his voice. “Come with me. Let me take you home.”
“I can never go home.” Her words fell softly but seemed to pull the forest into her sadness. “They do not want me back, and the forest will never let me leave.”
“But do you want to leave?” he asked, needing to know.
She turned those shadowy eyes on him, blinking as if no one had ever spoken to her that way. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“No one?”
“No one has ever cared what I wanted. Not even the ghosts.”
What was he supposed to say to that?
“Do you talk to ghosts often?” He winced at how ridiculous the question sounded.
“They make fine company because they cannot leave you behind. If you want them to stay.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“Not every soul returns as a ghost. Not everyone finds a reason to linger.”