I look out the window. A man and a woman are walking towards the cabin. The man looks anxious, but excited, too. He’s black, mid-twenties, with horn-rimmed glasses and a slim build. Too small to be the owner of the clothes in the house. He’s wearing chinos and a cardigan—not dressed for a hike.

The woman is white, with long black hair and a matching dress. Her hips swing as she walks. She looks much calmer than the man. She has all the power in this situation, or she’s doing a good job of faking it. She’s saying something, but quietly. The distance and the crunching of their footfalls make the words impossible to decode.

I can’t go out the door; they’ll see me. And there’s no time to climb back up into the crawlspace. I need somewhere to hide.

I duck into bedroom number two—the one with no bed. Then I stand in the empty cupboard and hold my breath, hunched over to keep my head clear of the hanging rod.

The lock clicks, and the front door swings open on quiet hinges. The gas lantern hisses. Faint light flickers in the cracks around the edges of the closet door.

The man yelps, and then laughs nervously.

‘Sorry,’ the woman says. ‘I should have warned you.’

‘What is that, a wolf?’

‘Yeah. A Mexican grey. It was a big one, too—ninety pounds.’

Footsteps moving around the living area.

‘So,’ the man asks, ‘where, uh …’

‘I’ll show you.’ The woman’s voice hovers on the border between friendly and flirtatious. ‘You want a drink first?’

‘Okay, sure.’

More footsteps, heading towards the kitchen.

I slowly open the closet door. I can hear the liquor cabinet opening. Glasses clink.

I creep over to the bedroom door. Look out. No one in the living room. Where’s the man?

‘I have to tell you something,’ the woman is saying quietly. The man must be in the kitchen with her.

I dart out of the bedroom, cross the corridor and pad across the living area. The front door isn’t locked. I turn the handle, wincing at the faint snick of the mechanism. Then I slip out onto the porch and carefully close the door behind me.

Heart pounding, I crouch down beneath the windows. No sound from inside. Could mean they’re drinking. Could mean they heard me, and they’re staring at each other. A silent look of Did you hear that?

After a moment, the man says, ‘I’m ready.’

The woman laughs. ‘Yeah, you are. Bring your drink.’