The damage it caused might have been through skin and bone.
“All right, well let’s get out of here and find our way out of the woods,” he says.
“Follow the wolf instead of the breadcrumbs.”
“Absolutely,” Grayson says, tapping the side of his nose. “Between the two of us, we’ll be able to find a way, no problem.”
I follow him inside only long enough to set our cups in the sink. “You’re an optimist. I like it.”
There’s too much evidence of our presence to erase easily. I’d burned the old blood-soaked washcloth in the fireplace but the cabin will never be the same.
“You think I’m an optimist? Cute.” Grayson waits for me by the door while I finish my perusal then motions me toward the bedroom.
“What?”
“Go change. Our friendly hermit has clothing to spare.”
My eyes round. “They won’t fit me.”
“You can’t walk around looking the way you do. Trust me. Find something. He has belts if the pants are large.”
Outside my one glance at the mirror, I’ve avoided looking at myself entirely. Grayson is immovable and intimidating, enough to send me into the bedroom and rifling around a stranger’s clothing.
When I return, I’ve changed into a clean-ish white tank top and a much larger flannel overshirt, blue this time.
None of the pants will fit and even the belts are too large.
I swing the door shut behind me and stare at him. “I look like something the wolf dragged in. Definitely not cute.”
“It is when you’re entirely wrong. Maybe you’re not used to seeing it in yourself. Cute.” He towers over me.
“If you bop me on the nose then I swear I’ll?—”
“What?” His eyes glow, waiting. “What will you do?”
There’s the feeling again, below my sternum, a fizzing of awareness.
I catch my breath and something whizzes by my ear. A thud against the cabin wall echoes through my chest and when I look, singed pieces of cedar shingles flick to the floor.
“Get down!”
Grayson recovers from the shock faster than I do. He tackles me to the floor as another bullet zips by and hits.
Someone is shooting at us.
Grayson shields me with his body as the next shot lands too close for comfort. Then he pushes me to my feet, both of us curved in half. I haul myself over the side of the porch and land in a crouch with him beside me.
Adrenaline kicks in and sends me hurdling forward, working my arms for speed. The shots trail after us in a straight line until we reach the trees then demolish a line of maple leaves overhead.
I lose feeling in my legs the longer we sprint, the more we push to dodge the gunfire. I hadn’t seen anyone.
My throat closes. I’m not sure what’s worse, the shots or the distraction. I hadn’t marked the hidden danger and if anything happens to Grayson?—
He goes down and I turn, a shot catching my hair and leaving an acrid singed stench behind.
He’s covered in sweat. It glosses his face and his neck, my hands slipping on his as I drag him to his feet. Eyes distant, he eventually catches my gaze with his, our panic shared.
Our fingers link, latch, hold.