Sometimes bears snuffle about for berries before hibernation this time of year, but a bear wouldn’t upset the crows, nor would it make me queasy with the sensation of being watched. Something screams in the darkness. A fox. It has to be a fox, but I’m running all the same like some terrified little kid. I don’t stop until I skid up to the front door of our house, rush inside, and throw the bolt behind me.

5

The house is warded. I’m safe here, I tell myself, over and over again until my heart stops thrashing behind my ribs. If it was something other than a fox—Nope, that’s all it was. But the hairs on my arms are still standing up and there’s an itchy prickle down my spine like a spider is caught in my shirt.

“Taika, is that you?” Mom calls from the dining room.

“Yeah. Just me,” I say, finally catching my breath.

Mom’s in front of her laptop, concentration lines cutting across her forehead. “Dinner’s on the stove when you want it.”

My stomach grumbles as I approach the pan: pyttipannu. Great. More mush. This time a mix of fried potato and onion with cubes of sausage. It’s only made marginally better when served with a fried egg on top, but if I want that I’ll have to DIY. Mom’s culinary skills don’t extend much beyond what comes frozen in a bag.

“When’s Dad coming home?” I ask as I fry up an egg.

“Tonight. Late.” She breezes into the kitchen en route to the kettle.

“Any leads?”

“Fishing for the Messenger?” Mom knows me too well. “But no, no leads yet apparently, although your dad isn’t allowed to tell us very much. School going okay?”

At least Mom has stopped asking if school’s going well.

“I think I’ve made a new friend. Morgan O’Connor. He seems nice.”

“He needs a haircut.”

“Mom.” I sigh.

“But yes, the family is… decent, if highly opinionated.” She pulls out a bag of chamomile tea.

“Natalie’s sick.” I change the topic. “Do you know how she’s doing?”

“She’s fine. This noro isn’t sparing anyone, but I’m sure she’ll be back in a few days. You two friends again?”

“Not exactly,” I say, and a pall of silence descends between us.

A year ago, Natalie and I were inseparable. She was over almost every afternoon. Mom noticed straight away when it all stopped. If she has any suspicions about why, she’s keeping them to herself and doesn’t ever push me to come up with an answer.