He pulled himself up and didn’t bother to check for any damage to his jeans or scrapes on the palms of his hands, though he could feel them chafing inside his wool gloves. He crossed a gangway that led around a protruding boulder. Wet moss on one side, rapids on the other. The path led to a small cave. Mathias ran the length of those few meters in the dark, telling himself it wasn’t fear that pushed his legs to go faster, but merely haste.

When he emerged on the other side, he stopped. A ray of sunlight had pierced the green canopy of trees, bathing the undergrowth in gold. The waterfall that powered the stream took a fearsome plunge and sprayed tiny droplets of water as it crashed down; in summer, when there was more light filtering down here, those droplets were traversed by the colors of the rainbow.

His friends were sitting in a circle on the rocky beach, waiting for him. Lucia, Diego, and Oliver. As soon as he saw them, his fears vanished. A smile appeared on his lips. There was no one behind him. No one had followed him there. He looked back defiantly into the dark depths of the cave. He’d won; he was a true leader.

But soon his smile dimmed until it disappeared altogether.

He was sure of it now.

There was someone hiding in the dark, watching him.

-2-

-2-

The body lay on the grass, covered in frost, the pallor of the skin in stark contrast with the black hair on the head and genitals. Beneath it all, the murky green of mountain vegetation. Pockets of snow persisted in shadier spots close to the woods. Some snow had fallen overnight and a few crystals had become trapped in the body’s eyelashes.

The dead man lay supine, arms by his sides and hands resting on pillows of moss. There were no scratches on him. The odd winter flower with faded, transparent petals emerged from between his fingers.

It all looked like a painting, with a color palette of blood gone cold, veins emptied out, and stiff limbs. The cold had preserved everything. There was no smell apart from the smell of the forest: wet earth and rotting leaves.

Someone had taken good care of him. The ground around the body had been laid out with rudimental booby traps of string tied into slip knots.

“To keep animals away from the body. To make sure it stayed intact until we found it,” spoke a rough voice into the microphone of a mobile phone, lips pushing out words and a cloud of warm breath. All around was a hive of quiet activity, white overalls, flashing cameras and lights.

“No signs of manual labor: the hands are smooth and there are no scratches on the wedding band. The nails are neat. There doesn’t seem to be any dirt.”