Down in the ditch, the elk, or what’s left of it, is still there. The cage of its ribs raw and filling with new snow. And tucked behind it, the ridge of dark fur she knows is Sadie’s hood.

But no bear.

Maeve listens for it—it must be somewhere close by. It must be. She can feel her connection to it now, as though the claw in her pocket were throbbing.

This was the reason for the dreams. Wasn’t it?

Down near the elk, she can see where the bear has made a bed, branches torn and piled into a deeper rut in the snow. But not just that—something else, some softer stuff. Grassy. Like the ragged edge of a blanket, like frayed yarn, with more of it caught around the icy roots at her feet. Maeve reaches forward and pulls a handful closer.

It’s the tarp. The green tarp. Shredded.

But that doesn’t make sense.

If the tarp has blown out of the tree, then the noise she hears from the ridge—

It means something else is making that sound. Something else is up there, beating in the wind. Her breath catches.

An engine. A propeller.

“Maeve!”

The beam of light cuts through the trees. In an instant, the forest floor around her burns with it, the glare off the snow making her squint, the elk’s black eye gaudy and rotten.

And Sadie, half buried beneath it, her hair matted into the fur around her hood.

She spins to see Sim closing in on her now, back in the shadows. She brought him here, hoping to lead him into a trap.

Another frantic scan of the forest. She can feel her confidence slipping.

There’s no bear.

He glances down at his footing, and she marks the moment when he sees the cache, the sweep of his light catching it from twenty feet away.

She rises to her feet, her voice wavering:

“What did you do.” It’s not a question.

“Maeve—”

He’s trying not to yell, not to draw attention. It’s almost a whisper. He stops moving, then slowly raises his head again. His eyes change. There’s a new, grim look to him, a commitment.

Sim’s light holding on Sadie.

If Sadie wasn’t shot accidentally, down in the village, if Dan didn’t kill her, then what happened? Maeve can imagine her trailing behind Sim, dogging him, trying to find her way back to the safety of the center through the long, cold night. The elk early that morning, spooked and rushing out of the woods—because someone was there after all. Maybe this was the place Sadie caught up to him, Sim reeling in surprise. Tired of her persistence. Angry.

Or afraid of what she knew. Whatever really happened on the trip down the mountain, Sadie was a witness.

Maeve takes a step back, then again, checking over her shoulder, but the gap between them stays unchanged. Sim picks his way toward her, the beam of light aimed low at his feet.