Page 95 of Mazywood

The effort of walking, struggling to pull her feet out of the deep snow to take another step, unleashed Imani’s bad thoughts in a torrent. This is all Dad’s fault. He was supposed to protect them, and instead he had brought them to a place where they weren’t safe. He had brought his pregnant wife to a lodge without a telephone or internet. (Who does that?) And by now, Mom and the baby were probably dead.

“She probably lost the baby,” Imani said, half to herself. She’d only had a few hours to imagine having a younger sib, but it was long enough to embrace the new baby as family.

“Don’t think about that!” Sharise said, sounding shocked.

“How can I not think about it?” Imani said. “They knew all this time they were gonna have a baby and they never told us until yesterday, and now—”

“Imani, stop,” Sharise said. “I mean it. Please.” Her voice threatened sobs again.

Imani knew she must be feeling grief like Sharise, but anger was bubbling up first. She was angry with both of her parents for creating this horrible day—even Mom, who probably had pressured Dad to come here because of her writing project. The desire to hate them was surprising, but tempting enough to cling to. Anger made Imani’s skin feel warmer.

The snow crunched and rustled in front of them, where the trees grew more thickly. The woods ahead looked like a snow globe now. Imani couldn’t see the source of the sound.

Imani was only a couple of paces ahead of Sharise, since walking was a more equal challenge. She held up her hand. “Wait,” she whispered. “Did you hear that?”

Sharise didn’t answer aloud. She only shook her head, wide-eyed. Looking around them.

Imani pointed in the direction of the sound. Could it be Dad? Her imaginary rage melted, replaced with hope that filled her eyes with tears. Had he followed their trail? Sent a rescue team? She wanted to call out, but pursed her lips to prevent it. Just in case. They had assumed that the Beast was ahead of them, but the way the trail had begun to veer so wide, it might have doubled back long ago and they wouldn’t know.

Her heart flooded her veins with tingling sparks when she saw the outline of someone on two legs moving between the trees. Tall enough to be a grown man.

But when she blinked, he was gone. The swirling snow was fooling her eyes. Only trees in sight. She wondered, Did I really hear anything?

A whooshing of snow answered so loudly that Sharise gave a start. She’d heard it too. It was the sound of something large in the distance, hidden from sight. If it weren’t the only sound in these woods, they might not have heard it.

“Boards,” Imani whispered. “Hurry.”

Keeping her eyes in the direction of the sound, flinging the rifle into position with her right hand, Imani laid down her snowboard and shifted it with her foot for the correct position to mount. Still watching the woods, she nestled her left boot into the binding. Accumulated snow forced her to jam her foot a bit harder, but it clicked into place when she grunted.

Imani heard her sister rushing to put on her snowboard behind her, already anxious. Sharise was whimpering and probably didn’t know it, but Imani didn’t want to make a sound even to hush her.

A large snowdrift moved twenty yards ahead, so close, like the earth itself unfurling. The movement was away from them at first, then it darted back toward them, juking moves like in one on one. It moved fast. Imani jerked the rifle’s barrel, racing to keep up with it. She moved her eye down to the sight. The sight was unfamiliar and confused her—not like a rifle’s scope in the video games she played—so she had to look above it to get her bearings. The next time she looked down the sight, the hump was framed perfectly.

It was still. Taunting her, almost.

“Don’t shoot Mom,” Sharise whispered.

Yes, that was the thing—if the gun fired, she couldn’t just aim for the moving snow. She could only fire if she saw the Beast alone, which meant it would have to come closer. It would have to reveal itself, spreading those horrific flaps.

Imani lowered the gun and focused on latching on her snowboard. This grade wouldn’t make them as fast as this Beast by a long shot, so they needed a head start. She held Sharise’s arm and whispered to her. “It knows we’re here. Follow me. Lean forward to go faster, not back. Knees low. If you fall, I’ll come back for you. We stay together, no matter what.”

Their eyes hung on each other’s, an unspoken vow. They nodded one… two… three…

The girls angled themselves to launch their boards down the shallow grade. Movement was painfully slow at first, but they picked up speed when they leaned in with their front feet. This wasn’t their first near-flat grade today, and it was steeper than some. Even Sharise moved like a veteran because of her practice.

The shimmying snow followed behind, gaining speed. The Beast was chasing them.

Sharise screamed.

Imani panted. Chasing and fleeing didn’t feel the same. Her legs grew unsteady as her heart sped. She had always hoped to find the Beast, but only if it led them to Mom. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder for any sign of her mother and that red robe, but she only saw snow churning in the Beast’s wake. And the slicked-down white fur of its oversized snout—

For an instant, Imani’s fear mesmerized her. What the hell is this thing?

“Don’t look back!” Sharise said. “Where can we go?”

Imani waved for Sharise to follow her and shifted direction, aiming for the thicket and its steeper downhill grade. Ahead, her glove still hung on the dead tree, a beacon. Maybe the Beast would be too big to navigate the thinner spaces between some of these trees and give them a slight advantage. The gaps might be too narrow for them to navigate, but she had no choice. It was worth crashing into a tree to escape this Beast’s claws.

But, God, it was so fast! It sounded like a machine on their heels.