Page 70 of Together We Rot

I’m hungry. Starving. Empty and hollow and aching and I need more.

A shrill cry pierces the air. Beyond the men I’ve devoured, there is a woman. A child, but not just any child. I smell the woods on him. Another vessel for me, another skin to slip into and be trapped in.

No. It ends now. I’ll open my mouth wide and end his screams, I’ll be free forever, I— Something hits me. Ice-cold.

I thrash toward the assailant and listen to the air, count the bodies, fresh and writhing and afraid. One, two, three, four. Five hearts going wild. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

“Wil!”

Another pelt slams against my skin. The child is forgotten, but my hunger isn’t. They’re running.

But I am faster. Wings slapping the sky, thunderous in the night. The moon beacons my path and they are helpless as I descend, my talons scraping ribbons against the frozen soil. I catch a man, sink my teeth in, and hit bone. A scream drags out from the human’s chest, and I lap up the sound. I want to hear more of it.

“Hurry, Lucas! He’s got Dad! Throw him a knife. Something!”

I’m about to go farther when I hear a rush of motion and feel a sharp stab in my side. I roar with the flash of pain, swatting the source, sending it flying in the distance. There’s a scream and the thunk of a skull hitting a tree.

“Dad!”

Another stinging scrape of snow hits my side. The assault doesn’t end until I am staring down a girl in the distance. There is a resounding click and a light and suddenly the moon is flashing between the trees, smaller than before yet oh so bright.

“Over here, Mothman!”

I turn, charging toward the new moon. The girl carries it with her, taking it farther and farther away.

She won’t escape me. I am the wind weaving through the branches and the crackle of ice as frozen streams break open. I am every thrashing thorn and this human cannot outrun me.

She twists through the clearing, ducking beneath tree limbs and leaping over logs. Anything to evade me. A memory breaks from the fog as I chase her, something beyond hunger:

The same girl is staring at me with honey eyes. She’s much younger, but she’s got an identical grin and a smattering of freckles. Her hair is wild all around her and she hurls a snowball right at my head.

“Ow!” I whine, trying in vain to dry my winter-slicked hair. I shiver with the cold and she laughs. “Why did you do that?”

She’s pretty. Probably prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen. Prettier than the moon and the flowers in June and even prettier than the butterfly that lands some days on my windowsill.

“My name is Wil-ah-mean-a!” she sings.

“ ‘Mean’ is right.”

“You can call me Wil! My dad calls me Minnie.”

“Wil,” I try it. I like it. “I’ll be your friend if you promise not to throw snowballs at me anymore.”

“Deal.”

I keep charging and shake away the strange intrusion. Fear rippled so strongly off the others, but I barely smell it on this one. Mouth salivating, blood sloshing in my gut, I reach out for her but miss by a hair. She’s fast. The hunger burns and rolls in me, pushing me forward.

“Oh my God, you didn’t,” Wil says, but she’s not upset. She’s laughing. I’ve got two matching dandelion-spun bracelets in my hands. They’re linked together at the stems. I slip one on her wrist, holding my hand on hers for a moment longer. I pretend I’m linking our fingers. She makes a small noise and I yank my hand back, slipping on my own bracelet in a hurry.

“Do you like them?” I ask, and she chuckles. “They’re friendship bracelets.”

“I give them a day before they fall apart. These things never stay put.”

I shake my head. I like the way the sun glistens in her hair. “These ones will.”

“You promise?” She snorts.

“Promise.”

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