Page 99 of Mazywood

Slithering raced through the snow behind them. They might have mistaken the sound for a cloud of dead leaves skating across the snow, but they knew the sound of the Beast. Maybe it had followed them this whole time.

Sharise pulled herself out of the gap with a shrill gasp.

“What are you doing—” Imani began, but Sharise contorted her body to try to crawl into the gap with her hands first, shifting sideways like a breakdancer. She squirmed and writhed, but her lower half was stuck again.

Imani grabbed Sharise’s biceps and pulled her, bracing with her feet. “Come on!”

With their combined strength, Sharise fell into the nook.

Snow sprayed inside with Sharise as the Beast thunked hard against the trunk behind her, moving with that remarkable speed. They both screamed, clinging to each other hard enough to crack joints. Imani wanted to wrap her arms around her knees and rock in place the way she used to when she was younger, but she fought the fog of panic by clinging to facts: The Beast’s snout and mouth could fit inside even if the rest of its bulk was too big.

“The boards!” Imani shouted. She fought past Sharise’s bulk in the tight space to lay her snowboard horizontally across the gap, the binding facing her. Sharise’s breathing was small, strange yelps, as if she might faint, but she hurried to pin her board above Imani’s, sealing the gap except at the borders.

More snow flew into the slats with the Beast’s second powerful thunk against the trunk, as if it hoped to knock the tree over. And couldn’t it? Neither of them wanted to put their hands or faces near the opening, but they lay side by side with their boots propped against the snowboards to hold them in place, with Sharise’s longer legs above Imani’s to secure the board across the wider opening, her anchor.

The third thunk against the tree—against their snowboards!—made them scream again, their bodies tremoring, knees yielding enough for matted strands of damp white fur to slip between their snowboards before they both pushed with their feet, driving it back, like trying to prevent a wall from toppling. Their screams rang inside the small hollow, both sisters waiting for the Beast to grab one of them by the leg. Or both.

But the dead old tree went still. The only sound was their shrieking.

Imani tasted blood. She thought she had bitten her tongue, but sourness flooded her mouth and throat from inside, not from an injury. Maybe nearly dying had a taste. She had witnessed her own death, seeing the Beast so close. Her body vibrated with the memory of the Beast thumping against their feet. Their legs still trembled as they braced their boards.

Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a revolution around the sun, their breaths heaving. The space felt tighter and colder while they waited for the Beast’s return. Sharise reached for her jacket, which was behind Imani, and zipped it back on. Her snowboard shifted slightly when she moved. Her shallow breaths jittered.

“Maybe it left?” she whispered.

“Or it’s waiting.”

Sharise gave Imani a deflated, disdained look. People thought animals were stupid, but ordinary animals were much smarter in their habitats than most people thought—and the Beast was not ordinary. It had opened Mom’s car door. It had recognized the rifle as a threat. And it probably was counting on them to believe it was safe to leave their shelter. Hell, no. This was the safest Imani had felt since the RAV. She might never want to leave this miracle tree.

“It’s so cold in here,” Sharise said, trembling beside her.

“It’s not colder—we’re just not moving anymore.” Imani wanted to say, Stop complaining, but she didn’t have the energy to pretend they were still playing the same lifelong roles from yesterday. Sharise the Whiny Bitch. Imani the Wild Child. Barely a memory now.

Instead, Imani wrestled her thoughts to her backpack, imagining the contents.

“I have emergency blankets,” she said.

“Of course you do.” The old Sharise would have been sarcastic, but instead she shuddered with gratitude. “Do you have water?”

Imani shook her head. How was it possible that they had only been without water for a couple of hours? It seemed like days! Sharise must have been feeling the same sharp thirst making Imani’s throat so dry that it was hard to swallow. Compared to this, she had never been thirsty. She couldn’t think of a close second place, or a distant one.

She couldn’t think of the last words she’d said to Mom. Or Dad.

She couldn’t think of the last words they’d said to her.

She couldn’t think of what color the rented RAV was. Was it white, or was that the abandoned Jeep? Was their house in Baldwin Hills painted peach, or painted orange? What color was the paint in their foyer at home? Imani’s old life felt imaginary, pieces shuffled and lost.

Was she remembering Mom in that red robe, or only Mazelle’s portrait on the wall?

“Let’s rest our legs,” she said to make her thoughts quiet. Only actions soothed her.

They arranged their snowboards one atop the other so they would stay in place without the support of their legs. They both scooted as far as they could from the hollow’s blocked opening, in case the Beast’s teeth pushed through while they rested.

Quickly, Imani studied the space with her flashlight, which was still on, illuminating the side of the hollow, making their shadows large. This gap inside the full width of the tree jutted back a couple feet farther than they could fit because it grew so narrow, vanishing to a thin dark maw. Their compartment was cramped, but it was large enough for them to sit up with their legs crossed if Sharise stooped. Maybe three feet high, four feet deep before it narrowed, more than five feet across right after the gap. No wind, no leaks. The perfect shelter.

Imani leaned closer to see the rear, where that thick bed of twigs and pine needles was arranged in a way that didn’t feel random.

“Some kind of animal lived here,” Imani said.