Page 314 of These Tears

I glance towards the edge of the path ahead.

It should comfort me that there’s no snow. Unlike last year, when the early blizzards smiled upon me ahead of season and trapped her in my paws.

‘Jakob,’ Anders prompts, continuing in Norwegian. ‘Five minutes.’

I look towards the place where Leah disappeared between the trees. Nothing but damp and indifferent woodland stretching towards the ridge.

Jakob. The name that belongs to these mountains. The name I used to prefer being called by until Leah walked into my life and fixed all the crooked angles of the one my father had given me.

The old rage comes. I clench one hand, hold it there, then let my fingers open again to banish it away from me.

Anders mistakes it for preparation.

‘Eyes on the red,’ he reminds me. The red tied around Leah’s wrist. She can tie it to a branch. Hold it above her head. Walk towards any one of the people stationed around the agreed perimeter.

One signal and the Hunt ends – she knows it. They made her repeat it twice. The second time, she just looked at me. Did not repeat it.

That smirk she sneaked my way when they expected her to say it—

She wouldn’t. End the Hunt. End everything we’ve become.

‘No dogs,’ Olle says from beside the fire with a grin too wide to be kind.

He says it as if I’d forgotten Brute screaming from inside Anders’ shed while Menace clawed at the locked door. The pair would find Leah in minutes and spend the rest of the morning expecting praise for ruining a silly family tradition.

I take the first step.

‘No weapons,’ Henrik adds.

My gaze cuts to him as the image of the hatchet stolen from the cabin comes to mind. That day she fought me in the snow. When the frost took hold of her lashes and the cold spread a delicate crimson over her cheeks.

When I almost took her.

Henrik raises both hands. ‘I see you have none.’

‘Then why say it?’ I growl, barely able to recognise my own voice.

‘Because you look like you want to murder something.’

I take a deep breath and decide against educating him in the ways of my demons.

My mouth opens when Markus shifts beside his brother. A stupid grin paints his face a shade of too-young-to-get-me, and he’s foolish enough to enjoy this.

‘He always looks like that,’ he says.

When I was his age, I contemplated darker things than chasing a would-be bride across the forest grounds.

I glare until he looks away first.

A chuckle travels from behind me, dragging my attention.

I don’t turn to locate its owner – there are too many relatives here, and sorting the guilty from the merely irritating would waste my time.

Behind me, the whole ridge looks as though my family has decided a wedding requires occupying the entire damn mountain.

Anders’ gloved hand closes briefly over my shoulder. The contact is heavy and familiar. It still takes effort not to shrug him off.

‘She chose this,’ he says, undoubtedly recognising the lingering unease I can’t seem to shake. ‘She wanted to do it the way it used to be done here.’