I am poison in the water, and unhappy.
the wind moves through the trees, slow and steady, curling around the huts, pressing against the fire like a breath.
lottie sits cross-legged by the flames, hands resting lightly on her knees. her fingers twitch, resisting the urge to press them together, to rub at her skin until it feels clean again. the light flickers, catching on the hollows of her face, the sharp angles left behind by hunger, by months of giving too much of herself away.
across the fire, travis sits hunched over, elbows on his knees, eyes glassy and wide. akilah lies on her back nearby, her breath slow, her lips moving in words too soft to hear.
the mushrooms are working.
lottie watches them carefully, studying the way the tension bleeds out of akilah’s hands, the way travis’s fingers flex like he’s reaching for something he can’t grasp.
the fire crackles. the wind shifts.
“what do you see?” lottie asks, voice quiet.
travis doesn’t answer at first. his hands tremble where they rest on his knees.
finally, he speaks.
“javi,” he whispers.
lottie exhales. presses a little closer, her palm hovering just above his wrist.
“what is he doing?”
travis swallows. his pupils are wide, his breathing uneven.
“he’s… watching me,” he mutters. “standing by the tree line. he looks… fuck, he looks scared.”
lottie feels the weight of the knife again. the one she pressed into nat’s hands. the one that carved open the body they chose.
“he’s gone,” she says, soft but firm.
travis’s breath hitches.
“he doesn’t feel gone,” he murmurs.
akilah shifts, a low whimper slipping from her throat. lottie glances at her, watching the way her fingers twitch, the way her mouth opens slightly, like she’s speaking to someone just beyond reach.
this is what she does now. this is what they need. to see. to understand.
but sometimes, when she watches them like this, their minds unraveling into the trees, she wonders if she’s doing it for them or for herself.
if she’s just trying to prove that she didn’t imagine all of it. that she had to do the things she did.
that there was something else moving them. something that wanted blood as much as they did.
lottie stares into the fire, fingers curling against her knees.
she thinks about the animals she drained, the way their blood pooled in the snow, steam rising in the cold. she thinks about laura lee, the flames swallowing her whole. she thinks about shauna’s knife splitting javi’s skin, how she had said nothing, done nothing.
the fire crackles louder.
was it real?
her stomach twists.
when she was younger, she thought the visions made her special. that they were a gift.
now, she wonders if they were just another kind of hunger.
if all of it—the prayers, the offerings, the whispered promises—was just a way to make their own monstrosity feel like something holy.
do you still believe?
the voice is her own.
but another one, deeper, from the trees, from the ground beneath her feet, answers back:
you don’t deserve to.
lottie exhales sharply, shaking her head.
she presses her hands together, grounding herself in the warmth of her own skin. it’s clean now, untouched.
but she still feels the blood.
she should’ve stopped them. should’ve stopped herself. should’ve fought harder when nat’s name came up, when the whispers turned toward sacrifice.
instead, the wilderness “chose” a name. a different one. a younger one.
and the wilderness took him.
lottie knows they’re all waiting for their turn, in one way or another. but maybe hers should come sooner. maybe it should’ve come that night, when they picked the wrong card, when the gods—if they even exist—decided she was worth sparing.
she knows better.
the wilderness won’t let you go until it’s had its fill.
and she is so full of guilt.
she watches the flames, the way they flicker and snap, the heat curling up against her face. she wonders if it would hurt if she walked into them. if the wilderness would take her the same way it took laura lee, or if it would keep her alive, make her linger, make her suffer in the cold instead.
maybe she deserves that. to stay out here, to waste away, to be picked clean by the forest until there’s nothing left.
travis makes a soft sound, something pained.
lottie blinks, pulled from the thought. she focuses on him, on the way his hands clench in his lap.
he’s here. she is here.
and whether or not she deserves it, whether or not she wants it—she’s still breathing.
the wind moves through the trees, curling around her like an answer.
lottie closes her eyes and listens.