His eyes searched mine for a beat.
“Is she not in her nest?” he asked.
“No,” I said, the word coming out rough. “She’s not.”
Benji’s easy posture cracked. The strawberry lowered slowly, almost forgotten as his jaw tightened. He wasn’t panicking–Benji didn’t panic–but he wasn’t exactly relaxed either.
“That’s… odd,” he murmured. “Is she taking a bath?”
Once again, I shook my head. “I checked the whole damn house. No Violet.”
Benji went deathly still before placing the berry on the counter and wiping his hands with a nearby towel.
His chin tilted up as he sniffed the air. It was then I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I smelled Violet. Her scent usually stayed with her, meaning unless she was close to me, she didn’t exist. But, I assumed their bond made him a little more sensitive.
His expression changed slightly, which made me more nervous than I cared to admit. After another moment, he drew in another breath.
Without a word, he started to walk toward the back door. I followed at his heels.
“Do you know where she is–”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “Her scent is very faint, but…”
Benji trailed off as he opened the door to the patio. The one I’d just been on.
The snake still rested in the chair like it owned the damn place, but Benji didn’t acknowledge the serpent.
“Violet,” he called, cupping his hands to the sides of his mouth.
“What are you doing?” I growled.
Benji elbowed me in the stomach, nearly knocking the wind from my chest and gestured for me to be quiet.
“I do not want to play hide and seek! I can see you!”
“You can?” I whispered.
That earned me a glare as his head swiveled back and forth before looking back toward the trees. No answer came, but Benji didn’t seem deterred.
Was she hiding from me?
Benji stepped barefoot into the yard as he sniffed the air once more.
“Muñequita, I don’t want to chase you but–”
In the distance, twigs snapped, and that was the only answer Benji needed.
He bolted toward the treeline, and I followed after.
The lawn was slick and damp from the slight misting of rain we had earlier, but it was nothing compared to the forest floor. Muck squelched between my toes as branches dug into my feet before snapping under my weight. Leaves slapped my legs, thorns scraped skin, and somewhere ahead of us something small and terrified was moving far too fast for someone who should’ve been resting.
“Violet!” I shouted again. “Stop—please!”
She didn’t.
I caught flashes of her between the trees. Pastel nightgown, pale skin, dark hair loose and wild. She was like a ghost, a very fast ghost.
No, like, almost alarmingly fast. Like force her to try out for the Olympics after the baby was here fast.
