“I used to do this when I was a kid. It’s…fun for me. Every winter, I get out of the house, search for them, and add them to my collection. I started this tradition when I was five years old, whenever my parents would argue. I didn’t want to be around them when they would fight, and we don’t live near the city. I didn’t have friends nearby. Only Merelyn. So, I went shed hunting.”
“Your parents fought a lot, too, huh? My parents are still together, even though they argue all day, every day, like it’s a competition to see who can instigate the most fights, wins.”
“Yeah, except when my mother wasn’t around, he’d take his anger out on me with a knife.”
I still, almost tripping over my feet. He says it like it’s a regular part of childhood. He keeps walking until somethingcatches his attention. I stare at the back of his head as I spot a scar on the back of his neck.
I remember those scars. I spotted them all over his back when he slept in the corner of his bedroom with me. Are those from his father?
He bends down, pulls a shed of antlers out of the snow.
“A three-pointer. Where’s the other one?” he mumbles to himself. “If I get lucky, I can find the other one nearby.” He takes a long stride to the right away from me. “Anyways, they’re dead. Died before I could understand the meaning of death. I never understood what it feels like to have a family. Merelyn is the closest I’ll ever get.”
How the hell is he so nonchalant right now?
His father would stab him.
No, that can’t be what he said, right? I want to ask him to repeat himself to make sure, but I hold back.
“What animal is this from?” I ask, trying to push down the rock in my throat with a long swallow, rolling with the topic change. I don’t want to imagine a five-year-old Gavin, afraid and lonely, getting stabbed by his own father. It hurts.
“A Sitka black-tailed deer.”
I nod like I know what that means and force a smile anyway through glassy eyes. He’s opening up about something personal. It’s a window for us to talk. This is an opportunity to share something, too.
“I’m getting stalked,” I blurt.
“You told me.”
“I have a feeling the man after me won’t stop until I’m dead.”
Gavin looks at me over his shoulder.
“If this person tries to get near you again, I’ll kill him. It’s simple, Coraline. You worry so much, all the time.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I give him a reluctant nod. Is he starting to believe me?
“Gavin.”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever thought of leaving this place?”
“It crosses my mind every time it snows,” he scoffs with a lazy grin. He exhales—a puff of white swirls from his parted lips. “But no. I could never leave Merelyn up here alone. She’s also rooted herself here, with no plans to move. She’s more stubborn than I am, and this is my home.”
He stands back up and hands me the antler. I look over it, studying every crease and edge—the scratches. It’s an older animal with history written all over it.
“This is beautiful.”
“Keep going, Coraline. Tell me more,” he says, walking faster. His boots easily push through the mountains of ice. He finds another one, this time it’s smaller. We add it to the growing pile in my arms.
“My husband cheated on me with my best friend.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t stop or flinch, but I think he likes hearing me talk, even if he won’t admit it…I think he secretly likes my company.
“I stopped drawing after that. I was sad for a long time.”
“When did this happen?”
