It was still chasing them.


    The snow and darkness muffled the hoofbeats, their sound further drowned beneath the thunder of blood pounding in the girls'' ears as they fled.


    Savannah didn''t know what was after them—it stayed just out of sight, crashing through the brush, keeping the trees between them. It didn’t use the trail; It wanted cover. Trusting her mare to hold course, she risked a glance over her shoulder.


    Two legs, but too tall to be a man. And too fast.


    How was something on two legs keeping pace with their horses?


    The trees thinned as they neared the ranch, and now, in the breaks of moonlight, she could see it. A shifting silhouette, its surface catching the light like the sleek coat of a well-groomed horse. Dark and darker. The moonlight slid over it in waves, never quite settling.


    Savannah whipped forward just in time to spot Sierra drawing her revolver.


    Her stomach lurched.


    "No shooting!" she shrieked, voice cracking.


    Sierra shot anyway.


    An orange flash lit the trees. The sharp crack split the night, a streak of fire cutting through the dark.


    Her aim was wide, but that didn’t matter. Sierra had expected a reaction regardless—a stumble, a flinch, a curse from some asshole in a mask.


    Nothing.


    The shot slammed into a tree, sending up a spray of bark and sawdust. The thing didn’t slow. Didn’t startle. Didn’t give a damn.


    "Cecil!" Savannah’s voice was shrill with adrenaline. Her head snapped back, desperate to see if it had worked.


    "Shut up!" Sierra fired back, the words a bullet of their own.


    She jammed her revolver back into its holster, and both girls leaned hard into their saddles, urging their horses faster. Whatever it was, it wasn''t afraid of being shot.


    —-


    Their horses'' breath filled the air with smoke. Just as Savannah began to worry they were asking too much of their animals, she saw the edge of the tree line. "Don''t go for the barn!" she called ahead, breath ragged. "We''ll get trapped!"


    Sierra didn''t respond, but when she broke through the trees she veered north, away from the barn and down the slope leading to the ranch. The house flickered in the distance, a speck of warmth against the black-and-white of the snow-covered landscape.


    Savannah burst into the open a moment later. The cold hit harder out of the trees, cutting through every tiny gap in her coat. She directed Vesper to follow the trail her sister had cleared, putting distance between herself and the tree line before risking a look back.


    Nothing.


    The woods were still. No movement. No shifting shadow between the trees. Just the slow groan of branches in the wind, the frozen quiet settling over the trail.


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    Pulling up on the reins, Vesper stamping and snorting in protest beneath her, Savannah called out again. "Cecil, stop."


    Sierra didn’t stop.


    Not until she saw her uncle.


    A bear of a man with dark black hair to his shoulders, and a beard she had never seen him trim, carrying a streak of grey down the middle. His long coat hung open over a stained undershirt, scattergun heavy in his hands. He had heard the shot and come. His boots crunched through the crusted ice, his breath short and fast.


    She should have seen him sooner, but she''d been tucked so low in her saddle that Nugget''s mane had blinded her. Now she saw the dogs too, sitting at the edge of the porch. Her uncle must have told them to stay.


    Sierra exhaled, loosening her grip on the reins. Nugget slowed to a trot as she guided him in a smooth circle, returning to draw alongside her sister.


    Vesper was still snorting and stomping, weaving slightly left and right. Savannah''s left hand stroked her mare''s neck, encouraging calm, but she was otherwise still and silent. Sitting tall in her saddle, facing the trees, listening.


    She didn’t just hear—she listened. The forest was never silent. Creaking branches, the rustle of a critter, distant yips of scavengers.


    She had always been a listener. She could hear the difference between wind through branches and something moving beneath them. The floorboards in the house told her who was up and where before the first word was spoken. Even silence had a sound.


    Right now, she heard nothing.


    The forest was holding its breath.


    Her uncle’s boots crunched toward them until he stopped beside her.


    Vesper stilled, and Savannah now sat between her sister and uncle. She closed her eyes.


    The silence pressed in—heavy, unnatural. The kind of quiet that told you something else was listening too. Something even the forest would rather not draw the attention of.


    The three of them stood there for a long moment, a little picket line where the porch light faded, staring into the trees.


    Finally, Uncle Cal spoke. "You shot at something."


    "I told her not to." Savannah''s reply was instant, instinctive—annoying both her companions.


    "Some thing was chasing us. Like, really chasing. Scary chasing," Sierra blurted in defense.


    Callan scanned the trees for a long moment, the scattergun pointed at the ground but requiring only a small shift of his offhand to bring to bear.


    "Put the horses away," he ordered. "Tell me about it in the house." His breath curled in the air. "I''m cold."


    The girls stayed well clear of the trees until they reached the fence line, then followed it closely to the gate.


    Sierra swung from Nugget’s back first, moving with an easy rhythm that only came from practice. She loosened the reins, ran a gloved hand down the gelding’s neck, and gave him two firm pats. "Good job, boy," she murmured, her voice still carrying the edge of adrenaline.


    Savannah followed a beat later, dismounting with less flair but the same practiced efficiency. Vesper tossed her head, nostrils flaring, still keyed up from the chase. Savannah ran a palm down the mare’s shoulder, feeling the tension there, then slid her fingers under the girth strap to loosen it. Her hands moved instinctively, but her ears stayed tuned to the woods as she closed and latched the gate.


    Callan had waited where he was until he heard the latch click. Now he turned toward the house, scattergun slung over one arm. Reaching the porch, he gave the large Rottweiler a pat on the head and spared a “good girl” for the smaller border collie before turning back to the woods. Cal leaned heavily against the wall and the three of them kept their eyes on the trees.


    Sierra led Nugget into the barn first, guiding him into his stall and unclipping his bridle. He huffed and shoved his nose into the hay rack before she even had a chance to pull the saddle.


    "Yeah, I know. You almost died," she lifted the saddle from his back with a grunt of effort. "Time to eat away the trauma."


    Savannah took her time with Vesper, making sure the mare had cooled down enough before uncinching the saddle completely. Vesper’s ears twitched as the wind rattled the barn doors, but nothing else stirred. That unnatural silence had lifted. The night had returned to normal.


    Sierra hung Nugget’s bridle and dusted her gloves against her jeans.


    "He’s not gonna let this slide," she muttered.


    Savannah pulled Vesper’s saddle free and set it over the rail, the weight of the night settling on her shoulders.


    "I know."