Shelly brought them to a row of cabins. They rimmed the forest like stones scattered on a beach, and the trees rose high above them. Kurt squinted at the brightness of the sky despite the clouds covering it.

"The cabins are pretty small, it's where the kids stayed. Nothing really happened here, so I'll take y'all to the counsellor's cabin."

They walked through the muddy grass to an old, creaky looking cabin near the entrance, back window facing the forest. It was certainly bigger than the other cabins. Shelly opened the creaky wooden door, and they immediately smelled cedar. There was a large fireplace, and several rooms in the back. There was even a TV set, but Kurt questioned whether or not it worked.

"If you boys need anything, I'm just a phone call away. I don't stay here, under advisement by the police." Kurt nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Miss Mason." He noticed the look on Magnus's face at the mention of her leaving, and he stepped on his shoe. Magnus looked up, and glared at Kurt.

Shelly smiled. "Bye, then." "Bye." "Bye."

Kurt sighed when the front door closed, and turned to Magnus. "Do you have any idea how unprofessional that was? She could get hurt if she stayed, Magnus, think about something other than your sexual desire for a minute, okay?"

Magnus was deeply hurt by this. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Kurt looked down. "I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" But Magnus had already gone to his room, shutting the door behind him. Kurt rubbed his hair, and sat down by the dark fireplace. Huh, he thought, I sure know how to talk to people, don't I?

As much as he felt bad for saying what he did to Magnus, the younger detective did need to learn a little humility.

Kurt was bored quite easily in this old cabin, and there wasn't much to do. He wasn't that into drinking, he'd done enough of that after his marriage ended. He decided to pass the time as he usually did with time off- sleeping.

A couple of hours later, Kurt woke up to the sound of crickets chirping right outside the small glass windows. He groaned as he pulled himself up out of the chair. He went over to see what sorts of things they kept in the fridge, but when he opened it, it had nothing but two completely rotted tomatoes and a few empty beer cans.

Kurt covered his nose, and shut the fridge. Well, it was a good thing he brought their supply of food. He had to remember, this cabin had been abandoned for a few years now.

He took out some carrot juice (packed by his daughter, Linda) and some pasta he had eaten the night before. As he was sitting back down, he suddenly remembered Magnus. His room was awfully quiet… maybe I should check on him, thought Kurt. He was quite used to being alone, so he had forgotten there was someone else living there as well. He needed a little company right now.

"Magnus?" Kurt rapped lightly on the door. "Come out Magnus, I'm sorry for what I said." There was no answer. He didn't really want to open the door, in case he was changing or something, but there wasn't even rustling or anything. "Magn-"

He opened the door, to reveal an empty room. He immediately panicked. "MAGNUS?" he called. What if the culprit behind all this had gotten to him? Kurt frantically grabbed his gun, and went out the door into the night. He could barely see, so he took out his mini flashlight they were required to bring on duty.

"Martinsson, where are you?!" he called out. He listened, but there was no response. He'd have to call the station, tell them to send people, he decided, and ran back into the cabin. He was out of breath as he dialled his phone that he left on the chair, and was about to hit call, when the sound of a toilet flushing came from the hall.

Kurt put his hand on his gun, and slowly walked over to that part of the cabin. He positioned himself in front of the door to the room the sound came from, and drew his gun. The door opened, and out popped Magnus, whistling as he dried his hands on a small towel. He tossed the towel into the bathroom, and looked up.

"Woah! Oh, Kurt. What the hell are you doing with that?" he asked, oblivious to his partner's facial expression. Kurt just stared for a second, and put his gun back into his belt. "Magnus! What were you doing?! Trying to give me a heart attack?!" Magnus frowned. "Uh, nooo… I was relieving myself."

Kurt massaged his forehead. "Oh. My. God. I thought you'd been kidnapped, killed even! And the whole time, you were in the bloody bathroom." Magnus raised his eyebrows, and started to laugh. "You- you thought- HA! I go to the bathroom, and you think that this Jason fellow got me? I thought you were a highly trained professional!"

Kurt whipped around. "Highly trained professional are 'highly trained' to respond seriously to serious situations! How was I supposed to know you were in there?" "What, was I supposed to announce it to you? 'Um, Kurt, just so you know, I'm going to take a PEE now!'"

Kurt just sighed again. "Just… just go back to bed, Magnus, we've both had a long day." Magnus was wiping his eyes from laughing, when his face got dead serious. "K-Kurt…" he said slowly, lifting his jaw up. "What?" "He's behind the cabin, in the forest."

"Oh, for god's sake, Magnus, I made a mistake, the joke's over!" "No," Magnus shook his head, "I can see him watching us right now." Kurt contemplated whether or not he was telling the truth, but something in Magnus's face told him he was.

Kurt carefully turned around, and there, in the forest staring right back at them, was a very tall man in a hockey mask. A chill tingled down his spine, and he took out his gun. He whispered to Magnus. "Get your gun, and follow me." Magnus nodded quickly, and dashed to his room and got his gun. He and Kurt made a run for the door, desperate to catch the man.

But when they got out, he was gone. Magnus's hand was shaking as his finger was twitching at the trigger, and he walked into the forest with silent agility. "Don't go far, he might be hiding," said Kurt, and Magnus nodded again. He turned around and around, covering his back and sides, but there was no sign of the man in the mask.

"Kurt, he's gone without a trace," said Magnus. "Did he drop something, maybe a glove?" called back Kurt. "I'm looking…"

Just then, Magnus came across something that killed his nerves even more. Right in front of him was a large tree stump, with a long, glinting machete sticking out of it.

"K-Kurt?" "What?" "You'd better come see this." Kurt crunched dead, fallen branches underneath his feet as he walked to where Magnus was standing. He definitely wasn't as light on his feet as the younger cop was.

Magnus ran his hand through his blonde curls, as he does when he's troubled, and as they bounced back around his face, Kurt came up beside them.

"Oh…. Alright, don't touch it. It probably doesn't have any fingerprints on it, if he was smart, he'd wear gloves… but just in case, we'll let it alone, and call in some analytical people tomorrow." "Yeah."

It was even colder at night, and they could see their breath. "Let's go back in now, it's dangerous to be out here at this time of night with him running about," said Kurt, and they walked back to the cabin. "How do we know he won't just come in and slay us in our sleep?" asked Magnus, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"We don't," replied Kurt grimly, "But I've got a hunch that the man we're dealing with isn't that type of killer." Magnus took a deep breath, and they locked the front door.

As Kurt got into his bed, he wished the place had a heater. He would give anything to be back in his Ystad home, warm and cozy and relatively safe from psycopaths. But this was what he did, and he must endure the perks of being an in-demand detective. He shut out the tiny lamp, and went to bed.

Over in Magnus's room, he was shaken up pretty well. He tried to calm himself down by splashing his face with cold water, (since the place didn't have any hot) but it hardly helped. "Come on, Magnus," he told himself, "Relax. You've dealt with this sort of thing before. It'll all unravel at the end."

He looked at himself in the mirror, and his shoulders sagged as he realized he didn't have much faith in his own words. He pushed the image of the machete out of his mind, and got into bed. As his slender arm reached out to turn off the dim lamp, he thought of something.

He threw the wool blanket off himself, and stood up. He slept in nothing but boxers, and was cold. He hadn't thought to pack his winter pajamas for the occasion. He went over, and drew the blinds to the window. There, he thought, much better.

He got back into bed, and plunged the room into darkness.