CHAPTER ONE
Cold enveloped me.
It was a wet sort of cold that sucked all the heat from my body and chilled me to the very bone.
Beyond the cold, I was vaguely aware of the din of running water – not the roar of a rushing river, but the gentle babble of a brook. That, and the soft pitter patter of rain. One drop landed on my forehead and another on my nose.
Whatever I was lying on was hard – unyielding – and something sharp dug into my back – a rock? My palms stung, too, and were covered in a multitude of tiny cuts and scrapes. They were nothing compared to the all-encompassing ache centered in my right temple, though, spreading out to the rest of my body in rhythmic – yet no less jarring – bursts of pain.
Time passed slowly.
Thunder rumbled over me, and I could see the brightness of lightning even through my closed eyelids as it streaked through the sky. My shirt – dress? – clung to me, and a lock of sopping hair plastered itself to my cheek as the rain picked up.
As the wind whistled in my ears, I was overcome by what seemed like the inevitability of death.
It wasn’t nearly as peaceful as they said it was, whoever “they” were. Even through the haze of pain and confusion, I knew enough to be scared. Still, as I lay helpless, body vulnerable to the elements, something told me that what I was experiencing now was better than what Fate had otherwise planned for me.
If only I could remember what that was.
But then…
Movement. First the sound of rustling bushes, then a snapping branch reached my ears over the howl of the wind. A wet nose pressed into my hair and then prodded my left hand, almost like whoever – whatever – the nose belonged to was checking to see if I was still alive.
I was – barely. With my very last ounce of energy, I forced myself to open my eyes. It was dark, and through my bleary vision, I could make out a black form – it was massive – looming over me, before finally, blessedly… nothing.
* * *
Awareness danced around the edges of my consciousness for a long time, taunting me. There were flashes of insight…
Calloused fingers brushing hair out of my face.
The sensation of being nestled in a pair of strong arms, my head resting against a warm chest.
A strong, recurring heartbeat, loud in my ears.
…before the darkness of oblivion would pull me back under.
An indeterminable amount of time passed before I finally came to.
Cognizance beckoned me, and I flitted my eyes open, only to have the glare of yellow, artificial light assault them. I snapped them back shut without thought, cringing when the miniscule movement sent tendrils of pains shooting from the ache that embodied the right side of my head. It felt like my brain was throwing itself against my skull with abandon.
After taking a moment to compose myself, I tried again to open my eyes – this time, more slowly. As they adjusted to the light illuminating from a ceiling fan, I realized I was lying on a bed. It was big – a king size – and I admired its wooden frame. It was oak and looked like it had been hand-carved, a variety of animals etched into the headboard.
The sight of them peaked my curiosity, and I carefully pushed myself into a sitting position to examine them more closely. The thick quilt that had been covering me pooled to my waist, and I felt my heart hiccup in my chest.
A jolt of wrongness slammed into me as I took in the oversized red flannel shirt that hung off my small frame and the pair of sweat pants clinging loosely to my hips. Even though I had no idea what I had been wearing before, I was sure it hadn’t been this.
There was no way that these huge clothes were mine.
Feeling the beginnings of panic threatening to bubble up my throat, I swallowed hard, shoving the feeling down as deep as I could, choosing to focus on the curiosity still lingering in the back of my mind instead.
I ran the pads of my fingers over the animals grooved into the headboard – a bear, a stag, a fox, and a rabbit – before moving on to the incredibly soft sheets I was sitting atop of. They were dark green and felt like silk. They were also immensely more comfortable than what I’d been lying on before.
The rocky ground, cold against my cheek. Something sharp digging into my back.
Shaking off the unpleasant memory, I finally looked around the room I’d woken in.
Despite drowning in some stranger’s clothes, I was alone.
As large as the bed I was lying in was, the room itself was small. The walls and floor looked like they were made of the same oak as the bed frame, and the space was sparsely furnished with only a dresser and nightstand. There was also a plush-looking brown rug covering a good chunk of the floor.
And three doors.
The sight of them rekindled my curiosity, and picking a door at random, I stood on wobbly legs – the rug felt as luxurious under my bare feet as it looked – and made my way over to it. Twisting its knob, I opened the door to reveal a closet. It wasn’t large, only a half-dozen shirts hanging from a single rod, but they were all like the one I was wearing – flannel, with buttons. There were two hangers free of a shirt, further solidifying the theory forming in the back of my mind that whoever the shirt I was wearing belonged to also owned the bed – the room, the house, even – that I had found myself in.
Biting down hard on the tender flesh of my inner cheek, I shut the door and hurried over to the next one.
Behind this slab of sturdy oak was a bathroom. It was modest enough, with a ceramic floor, and plain porcelain toilet, tub, and vanity. After taking a moment to relieve myself on the toilet, I took in the few items scattered on the vanity – some soap, a toothbrush, a towel – before finally working up the nerve to look into the large, oval mirror hanging over the white countertop.
The girl who stared back at me was pale and covered in a litany of bruises, the largest of which was stationed on her right temple in the form of a dark purple goose egg. Despite the injuries, the girl was pretty – beautiful, even. She had symmetrical features, and chestnut brown hair that fell in loose curls around her shoulders, hints of red peeking through even in the subpar lighting of the bathroom. She also had a small, dainty nose, and nondescript pink lips. Perhaps her most remarkable feature were the big, brown eyes that seemed to take up half her face.
Or – perhaps, more likely – the most remarkable thing about the pretty girl in the mirror was that I didn’t recognize her.