I realize the last chapter was vague, but things will be explained further on. And, if you're looking to read something realistic, I've proven that practicality is not my forte in only the second chapter.
The downpour worsened after a couple hours as the skies faded froma lackluster gray to an ominous black. Mason remained into the late hours of the night, never leaving and repetitively insisting that he wasn't going to.
I suppose I should've expected something along these lines to unfold from his visit. And, I think, the one thing that allowed me to fall so readily in love with him was that I had already fallen in love with him before. Besides, I could tell that he had not come to Forks expecting something like this.
I learned more about him with the passing time. It was obvious that he felt a deep despair for his flighty ex-wife and his deceased baby boy, and it showed; no matter how much joy he displayed on the outside, no matter how much happiness being with me actually caused him, the apparent sorrow never left his expression. Ever.
I wondered that maybe, if he stayed, I could erase that regret and replace it with bliss.
That next morning began somewhat like the first. I awoke in bed alone with no sign of any life besides my own. I hesitantly shuffled down the steps, rubbing my eyes exhaustedly. I entered the kitchen, my iPod trickling softly in the background as Mason peacefully made breakfast for us.
"Good morning," I said, reaching out and placing my hand on his shoulder.
"Sleep well?" He asked thoughtfully, flipping a pancake with the spatula.
"Sure," I allowed, walking over to sit at the table, watching him intently. It was great having an apposite cook in the house now; if I had based my survival on microwaveable meals much longer, it probably would become fatal.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" he wondered.
"No," I answered. "I'm sick, remember?"
"Oh, that's right," He chuckled, sliding the pancake onto a plate. "In that case, I have a bunch planned for today."
"Like what?" I asked, examining him carefully. He seemed happier today, but yet some aspect of his disposition seemed a bit exhausted.
"Well, I hope you don't mind," He grinned. "But I explored your garage."
"I thought you said you weren't nosy?" I accused, raising an eyebrow playfully.
His smile widened. "I was looking for the bathroom and just so happened to stumble upon it," he explained, shrugging. "By the way, that is one monster of a truck."
"Isn't she a beauty?" I teased.
"More like the Beast," He chuckled, setting a plate in front of me and taking his place beside me. "Where'd you get it?"
"It took some digging," I answered. "In the end, I got it from some old guy in Colorado who was looking to get rid of it."
He nodded. "It sure is a monster."
"Well, it runs great, that's for sure," I felt like we were criticizing my truck too much; the least I could do is compliment it for its dependability. "Good at protecting a fragile little thing like me."
"You're right," He agreed. "That's one hell of an engine. A bit of tweaking and it'll run like a fiend."
"It already does," I shook my head. "Are you implying my car needs work?"
"That's exactly what I'm implying, actually," Mason grinned. "I'd be able to fix it up if you'd like …"
I interrupted, "No, I would not like that at all. My truck is perfectly capable of surviving on the road as well as your car is."
He laughed incredulously. "Have you seen your car? Let's compare it to mine, shall we?"
"No, we shall not," I frowned. "I know your car is newer and sleeker than mine, but yours is not an eternal classic."
He shrugged, mumbling to himself, "It might be someday."
"Well," I stared at him with beady eyes. "You are not putting a finger on my car. It runs great, and there is no need to do anything to it."
He evaded my eyes. "Oops."
"What did you do?" My eyes flashed to his.
"I thought I was being helpful," He developed the most adorable, persuasive smile ever curved in existence. I think Juliet would've ditched Romeo and fallen to her knees at Mason's command instantly if he charmed her with a smile such as that.
I was too stunned by his beauty to think or speak. Or, for that matter, breathe.
"Don't worry," He exhaled. "You won't even notice a difference, just maybe that it runs quieter."
"Alright," I agreed, standing, wobbling a bit. "Let's take a look at your handiwork, Mr. Ryder."
He grabbed me by the waist. "You look high."
"It's you," I clarified. "You intoxicate me persistently."
We headed for the garage, Mason assisting me cautiously. I was honestly afraid. What if the changes weren't simply to the engine? What if he'd done some cosmetic changes as well? I'd hate to disappoint him, but I would be positively upset if he changed any of those sorts of things. I wondered if he knew the only reason I'd bought this vehicle and wanted it in the first place was because it was identical to Bella Swan's.
Oh, well, he'd find out soon enough.
Mason pushed open the garage door, revealing his work to me. Nothing looked different; the truck sat in the center of my average-looking garage, exactly where I'd left it when I parked it the other night.
My garage was small, about the size of the kitchen if not smaller. The walls and floor were prosaic gray concrete, nothing unique or special. I had a few Craftsman tools that my father had given to me, just in case I had need of them for any do-it-yourself jobs. Ever since I moved to Forks, though, those tools had been left collecting dust, untouched.
"Mason," I stood idly in the doorway as he slipped past me towards the truck. "Nothing looks any different."
"You have to turn it on, silly," He chuckled, reaching out and pulling me down to the driver's side door.
He clicked the door handle and opened the door … and I sighed with relief. The interior was exactly the same: same off-white upholstery, same peppermint scent. If the engine was the only thing he'd changed, I didn't mind it.
"Turn it on," He smiled, walking around to the hood.
I reached forward, seeing that the keys were already in the ignition – had I left them there or did he find them? – and twisted the key. The engine boomed at top volume at first, but then lingered a bit lower, the rain powerful enough to envelop the noise and declare it practically inaudible. I knew without the rain it would still be a bit thunderous, but rarely was Forks without bad weather.
"How'd you do that?" I questioned, hopping out of the cab.
"Easy," He mumbled. "Anybody can do it."
"And, by anybody, you mean people who are mechanically gifted," I corrected, smiling.
"You're saying you're mechanically challenged?" he laughed.
"Indeed I am," I grinned as we headed back into the house.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Mason's face grew apprehensive as we entered the kitchen. "Someone called for you this morning."
"It was probably Lilli," I assumed.
"It was a guy," he corrected.
I turned on my heel slowly, my eyes widening.
"Do you know a Nathaniel Redborn?"
"Nathaniel?" Something in my tone hinted that I knew him personally, not that I had met him just the other morning. "Yeah. What'd he say?"
"Something about …" he paused to remember. "Missing Friday."
"Oh my god," I clapped my hand against my forehead. "I completely forgot about yesterday. He was probably waiting for me out in the rain and the cold and everything …" I rambled on mostly to myself.
"Who's Nathaniel?" Mason raised an eyebrow, his tone becoming rough.
"Are you becoming the clingy boyfriend?" I'd meant for the comment to be lighthearted but, instead, it sounded a bit sharp.
"Hmm," Mason looked out the window. "Have we established that I'm your boyfriend yet?"
"I'd assume you are," I glanced at the door and then away, refusing to picture Mason walking out of it for good. "Considering last night …"
Mason mumbled to himself, "Mmhmm."
"Mmhmm," I repeated to myself silently, watching as Mason contemplated to himself. His face tensed as he thought and then relaxed when he finally made a decision, but he stayed silent for a long time, prolonging the moment.
"Sure," he nodded at last. "I'd love to be your boyfriend."
My shoulders wilted, as if a huge burden was lifted from them. "Thanks."
"You're thanking me?" He seemed amused.
"You've saved me from self-inflicted boredom," I walked over to him and sat on his lap.
He didn't refuse me, but a blank expression remained on his face. "So, you still have to explain this to me. Who's Nathaniel?"
"Just a police officer I met while working down at the hospital the other day," I explained, examining him as he processed the thoughts. "He had invited me down to the beach to hang out, but I forgot."
"Hmm," Mason nodded, now reacting to me on his lap. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me as close to him as possible. "Why'd you forget?"
"I forgot because you distracted me," I mumbled. "Just like you are now."
"Do you want me to put you down?" He purred the words pleasurably, his voice flowing like rainwater.
"D-don't let go," I stuttered, mystified by him.
"I won't," He chuckled, a promising tint in his tone. "Now there are so many other things you must explain to me. I have plenty questions for you."
"Fire away," I got up off his lap and walked over to the refrigerator.
"Basic questions," He simplified. "First, what is your favorite color?"
I rolled my eyes, expecting something more significant. "Is that the best you can do?"
"A question is a question all the same," He traced his pinky finger along the crease in the table.
"Hmm," I pondered. "I'm not really sure. I guess, blue."
"You don't see blue that often, do you?" He peeked up at me blankly. "I mean, there is no ocean around here, no blue sky."
"There is an ocean about a half hour away from here," I informed him – his expression brightened. "First Beach, in La Push."
"That's where you were supposed to meet that boy," he guessed.
I nodded. "I feel so bad. It must've been freezing down there yesterday. Especially now, with it being almost December."
"The first of December is tomorrow." His voice was monotone.
"Hmm," I repeated, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a soda. "I would've gotten paid today … darn."
There was a moment of silence.
"I should go get my check," I hurried into the foyer, reaching for my jacket.
Mason was at my side in an instant, grabbing me. "You're sick, remember?"
"Oh, right," I recalled, shaking my head. "It's hard to remember when I feel absolutely perfect."
"Oh," He exhaled, wrapping me in his arms. "I wonder if you realize something …"
"What?" my eyes remained glued to his face.
"I need you," He paused shortly before continuing. "Much, much more than you need me."
"Doubtable," I glanced out the glass front door, watching the rain slam against the pavement vindictively.
His finger lifted my chin so our faces were mere centimeters apart. "You have no idea."
He leaned forward and placed his soft lips on mine, sending my heartbeat into a wild, uneven frenzy. He kept his hand under my chin, carefully holding me there as if I were made of glass and could shatter at any moment. Once our lips finally disconnected, that enchanting smile crossed his face again, making me blush.
"Next question," He sighed after awhile. "What's your hobby?"
"Writing," I answered him, my breathing still a bit scattered in aftershock. "But I can't. My computer's broken."
"Couldn't you handwrite it?" He didn't leave the foyer.
"I guess so. But I don't think I have the patience."
We sat together on the steps as he continued to bombard me with every question he could possibly come up with. He asked me about my favorite childhood memory, my favorite place to be – other than the Pacific Northwest – and why I wanted to be there. He asked about movies I'd seen, books I'd read, pets I'd owned (and unintentionally killed), favorite foods and favorite restaurants …. His mental list of questions seemed to scope farther than I ever thought possible.
In between his endless questions, he took a breath.
I took advantage of the pause. "Come with me," I took his hand and pulled him out the front door.
He swiftly grabbed my coat and mine as we stepped out the door. Instinctively, once we were down the steps, he retreated to his Mercedes but, without a word, I started walking in the opposite direction of civilization, towards the woods.
Mason followed without protesting, beside me in an instant. I reached out and held his hand, leading him towards the forest's edge. Once we were a few feet into the deep dark seclusion of the overgrowth, I exhaled.
This was one of my favorite parts about living in Forks. This foreign wasteland could be found in anyone's backyard, beckoning you out to get lost in. I rarely felt any sort of claustrophobia back here, although it did feel as if one were trapped in a gigantic green box. Ferns and greenery swooped down from every side, blanketing the floor like a foamy mattress. Vines and leaves hid the sky, a consuming canopy blocking out light. Few raindrops made their way to the forest floor because the canopy was too luscious and too uncontrollable to penetrate.
"Where exactly are we going?" He wondered.
"I don't know," I responded honestly.
"So you're getting us lost?" He glimpsed at me, playful accusation in his eyes.
"I'm trying to find something," I told him, carefully positioning my footing – one missed step could end up disastrous for my clumsy self. "Remember yesterday I told you I went up above the cloudbank and found a phenomenal spot?"
He nodded. "I also recall you saying that the last time you were there was not long after you moved here … that was almost a year ago."
"I'd like to think my memory is sound."
"So you remember a patch of dirt, but you didn't remember me?" He chuckled at the comparison, staring down at me skeptically.
"It's been awhile since I saw you last," I reminded him. "Besides, I doubted I'd ever see you again so don't blame me for discarding your face."
He said nothing, snickering to himself, sneaking glances at me every so often.
I searched my surroundings determinedly. "I think it's this way," I decided.
Pulling Mason alongside me, I tramped across the moist earth. I noticed Mason walked with an exceptionally low amount of effort or concentration. He kept his eyes on me or facing forward but never on the ground in front of him. It made me feel insignificant, far less skilled that he was.
"Are you sure you're not dragging us in circles?" He laughed.
"I see the sun through the canopy up ahead. We have to be getting higher."
Sure enough, about twenty yards in front of us, the cloudbank parted and the canopy's dense layer was broken. Sunlight was a beautiful image, an uncommon one in this dense forest. We eventually reached the top of the high hill after what must've been hours of hiking. We entered a treeless patch, the sun peaking through the leaves like a child trying to discover the unknowns of a candy store's interior through the store's window.
The sun soaked us, a reassuring and welcomed feeling. Mason seemed shocked that I was actually able to find the place, all within a reasonable amount of time; I was equally amazed that I hadn't gotten us hopelessly lost.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" I asked him.
He examined the dewy, wet grass, his eyes floating from the forest floor all the way up to the greenery above us. The sunlight was sparse, but yet still visible to a minimal extent. Sun seemed foreign to me after all these days in the dark. It was the heavy rainy season.
"Wow," He smiled. "Incredible."
"Like a little meadow," I mused.
The place instantly reminded me of the meadow in Twilight. Only this image was far from the one in the movie; the movie had petite little purple wildflowers, luscious grass, a single unnatural ray of sunlight, and most importantly, a sparkling perfect vampire. Here, the sunlight was barely peaking through the tiny holes that the canopy provided, the grass was dead from all of the weather's brutal abuse, and there was no vampire – however, Mason seemed close enough to Edward Cullen's immortal faultless image.
I watched Mason as he let go of my hand and idly stepped forward, head craned up, eyes analyzing everything around him. His hair was ruffled, the blondish-brown tints luminous in the minimal sunbeams. His whole physique seemed otherworldly, too immaculate for any one person to be gifted with. He seemed out of place in the dingy background – he belonged somewhere else, somewhere sunny, somewhere not Forks.
Somewhere not with me.
Back in our grade school and high school years, Mason could've been described as lanky with angled features. Even before, his eyes were just as piercing, a beautifully gorgeous shade of blue. But now, his figure seemed fuller, more muscular than it had been. Granted back then he was definitely stronger than many boys I knew, but now it was obvious – his features and structure was more defined. He used to wrestle, play baseball, and various other sports, so I'm sure all of that athleticism contributed to his stunning build.
"You didn't let me finish," He broke through my stare.
"Finish w-what?" I mumbled, having to concentrate on something else to get the words out coherently.
"My questions," He leaned against a tree. "I've yet to ask you everything I must know about you."
"How much do you want to know?" I asked warily.
"Oh, it could take days," he alleged, glancing up at the trees' roof and then back at me.
I sat down on the grass, keeping my eyes on him always. It could have been because I was afraid he would disappear, but it could have also been because I couldn't stop staring. "Well, then maybe you should get to it."
"Alright then," He paused. "Your romantic history. Tell me about that."
"I haven't had that many boyfriends," I said, somewhat embarrassed. "And none of them were very long-lasting."
He chuckled, which surprised me. "I find that hard to believe."
"And why is that?" I couldn't help but wonder.
Shrugging, he crossed his arms across his chest.
I didn't say anything for a long time, I just watched him.
"Next question," I prompted.
"Hmm," He took a deep breath, his eyes remaining locked on the grass beneath us as he concentrated. "How long do you intend to stay in Forks?"
"The rest of my life," I answered surely.
"Really?" He winced. "That's a long time." Mason seemed uncomfortable with my answer, as if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
I stood and stepped toward him, approaching him slowly. He watched me carefully; with each inch that was chopped away between us, his smile widened.
"Why'd you ask that?" I wondered when I was only sheer inches from him. I had to crane my neck to look up at his face. He had to be at least a head taller than me, if not taller than that.
His response was hesitant. "I want to know as much about you as possible."
"That's the only reason?" I inquired, watching as he intertwined our hands together. As soon as his fingertips connected with mine, it was instant electricity.
"Well … no," He replied after awhile. "I …"
He paused to phrase the words perfectly.
"I have to keep track of you," Finally, he continued. "I've noticed," He paused again. "That, whether you realize it or not, where you are is where I need to be."
My mind mulled over the words briefly, even though I decided that I liked what I was hearing the moment the words left his lips.
He added, "But I'll leave if you don't want me, willingly. I just need something stable in my life for once …"
I didn't give him time to finish, mainly because it didn't take me that long to consider the thought. I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and leaned forward, placing my lips on his. I could feel his mouth curve up into a grin as he kissed me back. His hand became entangled in my hair as he pulled me up against him.
We stayed in the tiny meadow for hours, just talking and asking each other questions. I could've laid there forever with him, listening to him talk. I tried not to concentrate on one part of him too much; now and then he would catch me staring distantly into his eyes or at his lips. It was humiliating, and a sure sign that I was clearly obsessed with him.
He seemed overly interested with my life, which surprised me. I'd never considered myself very intriguing, but Mason apparently begged to differ.
Eventually, he noted, "It's getting dark out." He stood
My eyes retreated to the sky, noticing the sun had drifted away. "Oh."
He gripped my hand, helping me up, and we began to walk back in the direction we'd come. "You know what I decided?"
"Hmm?" I looked up at his darling face with admiration.
He spun me around so I was facing him, his smile growing fuller. Mason held me close as physically possible. I stared into his eyes lovingly, noting that the remorse had faded away a bit more.
"I …" He began, but then he stopped.
I was wondered why he didn't continue, and after a couple minutes, I raised an eyebrow. "Are you …?"
He interrupted, "Shh. Don't move." His voice was urgent.
His eyes were locked on something behind me. I attempted to turn and see what was so interesting, but Mason's arms were forcefully solid around me, making moving impossible.
"Get behind me," he instructed reluctantly, never letting go of my arm.
I obliged to Mason's request. As soon as I did so, though, my curiosity overtook me. My eyes peeked over the collar of Mason's jacket and I finally realized what was so imperative.
Standing in a guarded stance, feet away from where we stood, was a wolf. It was massive, frightening. I felt my toes grow numb and my heart ice over as the beast appraised us with ravenous eyes. Its fur was black and ratty, and its eyes were golden.
I could feel a scream itching to release itself in the back of my throat, but I pushed it down, knowing that with any sudden motion or sound, the wolf would pounce.
Mason carefully tested the animal, slowly stepping forward. In turn, a low snarl escaped from the wolf's mouth.
"When I say go," Mason mumbled under his breath, watching the wolf charily. "I want you to run."
"What about you?"
Mason said nothing; he simply reached back and grabbed my waist protectively. The wolf stepped towards us, eyeing us suspiciously. I gulped as the animal crouched down, ready to lunge for us.
"One," Mason muttered, barely audible. "Two."
The wolf growled, its stare turning into a fearsome glower. I began to whimper quietly to myself, realizing that at any moment the wolf could attack and kill us both with a whip of it's jagged nail or a gnaw of it's sharp teeth. The animal could smell my fear in the air, for it crouched even lower and bared its teeth.
Mason then released me and instructed hurriedly, "Run!"
Without looking back, I dashed in the opposite direction, not quite sure which way I should be heading. I glimpsed at the passing trees worriedly as the sky grew darker. A slight drizzle began to fall, which quickly transformed into snow. The little flurries swirled around my face, sticking to my hair. I continued to run, faster and faster still, unaware of whether I was going deeper into the forest's depths or ultimately heading for an exit into open space.
Typically, my panic joined forces with my clumsiness, making me trip and almost fall head first into a tree. Just in time, I was able to reach out and grab the trunk before my head collided with it, panting heavily. I knew I wouldn't be able to run much more. So, if I couldn't run from it, I decided my only option was to hide; I pressed myself up against the tree I had almost ran into, counting on it to serve as my only source of protection.
Had the wolf followed me? Had it lunged for Mason instead? Was Mason alright? Had he died? All of these questions along with many more floated around in my brain as I peeked around the tree towards the path I'd come.
Mason was nowhere to be seen – neither was the enormous wolf. I prayed that Mason had lived. A vicious beast, fate was. Moments ago, I was lying on the grass, eyes focused on what I considered to be the most beautiful sight I could ever see, and now fate was pushing me closer to the edge – putting in jeopardy the only thing I held dear anymore.
The trees began to sway malevolently as a violent gust of wind flew through the forest. My hair blew around my face, getting stuck in my mouth. I picked up my finger and pulled my hair back, watching and waiting for something – anything. Out of the blue, a despaired howl pierced the empty silence.
It was an ominous sound. The kind of sound that makes you sick when you hear it. I knew this could mean anything. Was it a victory cry, rejoicing a unanimous triumph? Or was it some sick, cragged substitute for a sob that slipped out of the wolf's mouth as it curled in agony, the cry of a beast that knew only too well that death was close?
Unexpectedly, something jabbed me in the back, making me cringe and whirl around. A muscular arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me into the person's chest jarringly. I was unable to tell who it was that had grabbed me, but I was glad to see it was human. I craned my neck to look up at the person, surprised to see it was not Mason.
But Nathaniel.
His face was strained, careful. When he noticed me staring up at him, he didn't seem relieved that I was alive or anything along those lines – surprisingly enough, he looked enraged.
A crinkle of leaves made us both turn, but Nathaniel was the first to react. He whipped his gun out of his police belt, pointing it in the direction of sound. The sight of the weapon frightened me, sending a chill up my spine. Perhaps it was because of the invisible death that hid behind the bullet inside the barrel, an inevitable occurrence that followed whenever a fired shell met flesh. The gun was pointed towards a tree that was about fifteen yards from us, but with the progressing snowfall, it was hard to tell if anything actually was hiding behind it.
I watched the tree carefully, expecting the wolf to jump out from behind it and dart straight for us. However, when the leaves crunched again, I saw the outline of a foot just peeking out from behind the trunk's base.
Nathaniel's finger was seconds from pulling the trigger when I lifted his arm up, sending the bullet flying into the air instead of towards the tree.
"What are you doing!" He whispered to me furiously.
I didn't bother to whisper. "Don't fire!" I wiggled out of Nathaniel's grasp and dashed over to the tree. I knew it was Mason – I knew he wouldn't die.
He probably didn't expect me to come upon him so suddenly, because when I jumped onto him, he didn't respond at first. After a few startled moments, Mason realized it was me and wrapped me in a loving embrace. Mason quickly pulled my face to his, the near-death experience's terrifying impact painted on his eyes.
I sighed, "You forgot to say three."
He rolled his eyes, criticizing the fact that I could make a joke after what had just happened.
"Don't move or I'll be forced to open fire!" Nathaniel commanded, lifting the gun and pointing it at us. I surmised that from Nathaniel's angle it probably looked like Mason was attacking me instead of kissing me. "Let go of her!"
I glanced up at Mason as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
Mason lifted me up over a root and pulled me into Nathaniel's line of vision. As the two appraised each other for the first time, it was obvious they didn't like what they saw; resentment was pasted over their expressions – an apparent, immiscible intensity grew with the passing seconds, separating them like oil and water.
"This is Nathaniel," Mason guessed, his voice gruff.
"You're the guy that answered her phone this morning," Nathaniel stared at Mason with threatening eyes.
There was a moment of silence between all of us; the uninvited tension was practically tangible. I watched as Nathaniel hesitantly lowered his gun, placing it back in its holster. Mason eyed the gun carefully, tightening his grip around me instinctively.
Nathaniel cleared his throat, switching his piercing gaze to me. "Is he why you stood me up yesterday? Did he have you preoccupied?"
"I'm sorry, Nathaniel." I blurted. "It just slipped my mind …"
"That's not what bothers me," He shook his head disapprovingly. "You didn't even consider calling me? You decided to leave me waiting for you?"
"It's not like I forgot on purpose," I glimpsed up at Mason whose lips were pursed; I could feel a deep growl reverberating in his core.
Nathaniel exhaled, laughing just to brighten his mood – it didn't help at all.
Mason's mouth curved up into a smirk. "Maybe it was fate."
"What did you just say?" Nathaniel's eyes shot to Mason irately.
"I said," Mason stayed composed, despite his unpredictable temper I remembered. "Maybe it was fate. So, if I were you, I wouldn't even try to waste my time."
"Have you claimed her already?" Nathaniel chuckled, but his gaze was sharp. Mason tightened his grasp around me again, protective.
"Actually, yes, I have," Mason smiled, keeping an impressive cool.
"Guys, stop," I reprimanded. "This is ridiculous."
Nathaniel gestured toward me. "I think she's the one that decides that."
"There's no decision to make!" my eyes flashed up at Mason and over at Nathaniel. I simpered, "Nathaniel, I hardly know you."
"You didn't even try to get to know me," Nathaniel sighed. "Scarlett …"
Mason interrupted, "Why are you even here?"
"I came to Scarlett's house to see if she was okay considering she didn't show up," Nathaniel explained curtly. "And then I heard a bunch of howling, so I ran into the woods and found her cowering behind a tree."
Neither Mason nor I said anything.
"Is that how well you protect her?" Nathaniel accused. "Leave her to fend for herself?"
"What was I supposed to do?" Mason shook his head. "Run away with her and wait for the thing to catch us both? No, instead I did the smart thing and got her out of the way so I could kill the beast."
"How'd you kill it with your bare hands?" Nathaniel laughed teasingly, even though there wasn't a single trace of humor in his tone. "Are you some kind of superhuman moron?"
"It wasn't intent on killing me. I was just an aimless distraction for it," Mason corrected. "I stabbed it with my keys, even though I doubted that would do much harm, and the wolf probably didn't expect it, so while it was recovering, I ran …"
Nathaniel interrupted, turning his attention to me again. "And you! I told you stay out of the woods, did I not?"
"I'm sorry," I breathed, trying to keep up. "I forgot …"
He interrupted again, "You sure have an awful memory." His voice was biting.
"Nathaniel …" I tried to reason with him but he stopped me.
"No," Nathaniel's eyes turned to Mason's. "May the best man win."
Mason smiled, a persuasive smirk crossing his previously vacant expression. "I plan to."
