Skylar's POV
We had finished feeding, the last of the deer blood a lingering, metallic warmth on my tongue. It hadn't taken long—just two deer, found deep in the hushed, shadowed parts of the forest, near the stillness of a frozen creekbed. The blood, though warm and necessary, tasted strangely bland, almost thin. Animal blood always felt like swallowing snowmelt: clean, yes, vital for survival, but ultimately empty, lacking the complex, vibrant essence I sometimes craved.
Afterward, a quiet stillness settled between us. We sat there for a long while, our backs pressed against the rough bark of a fallen log, blending with the shadows of the trees.
Above us, the sky deepened, slowly turning from bruised purple to an inky, starless black. Micha, with practiced ease, pulled out two beer bottles from the little stash he'd buried months ago, tucked away in a rusted metal box behind a moss-covered rock. He tossed one to me without speaking, the cold glass a sharp contrast to my skin.
We drank in silence, the quiet between us thick and comfortable.
One bottle turned into four. The cold air, usually a biting presence, didn't bother us. It was a refreshing counterpoint to the slow, internal burn of the alcohol. The quiet, too, was a comfort, especially for Micha. He was still sorting through the leftover noise in his head—the tangled, fading echoes of human thoughts from the nearby town. Grocery shopping gossip, snippets of hurried phone conversations, the mundane anxieties of early school dismissals. He had that faraway look in his eyes, a familiar strain, like a man struggling with a persistent headache that simply wouldn't quit.
And then I heard her again.
The voice.
It wasn't loud this time, no triumphant burst of emotion. It wasn't giddy, not like before.
This time, it came slowly.
Smooth.
Calm.
Like a thought, she hadn't meant to say out loud, a whisper caught in the quiet confines of her own mind. But it reached me. Straight to me. A soft, undeniable presence.
Before I could even make a move, before I could consciously decide to stand, Micha straightened beside me. His jaw flexed, a small, involuntary twitch of recognition. He'd heard it, too, that distinct mental signature, and his heightened senses had recognized its sudden return.
He turned his head slightly, squinting toward the northwest, the direction the faint current of thought seemed to be coming from.
"Don't even think about it," he muttered, his voice low, raw with a mix of warning and frustration. He rubbed the side of his temple, as if trying to physically push away the insistent pull. "Don't you dare?"
But I was already gone. His words were a distant echo.
I dropped the beer bottle into the snow, the glass landing with a soft, muffled thud that was swallowed by the thick quiet. Then I ran.
Full speed.
Faster than wind.
My body was a blur, a dark streak through the trees and brush. I leaped over cold, slick rocks, my feet finding purchase on frozen bark, my movements silent, fluid. I didn't know exactly where she was, not yet. But I could feel the direction—a magnetic pull behind my ribs, drawing me forward with an undeniable force.
I didn't want to lose it again. Not this time. Not when it had come back to me like this—so soft, so euphorical, so intensely private. A vulnerable whisper meant for no one but herself.
She didn't know she was being heard. That's what made it stronger. That raw, unguarded intimacy.
I ran until the dense woods began to thin, giving way to the faint, distant outline of a human neighborhood breaking through the bare branches of the trees. Houses, small and dark against the fading light.
That's when I stopped. My breath came in slow, silent bursts.
Still hidden, deep within the shadows of the last few trees.
Listening.
Feeling that strange, almost overwhelming euphoria building inside me.
It was louder here, closer to the source. The voice wasn't like a scream, no dramatic outcry. It wasn't even a fully formed sentence, not consciously expressed. Just thoughts. Words brushed together inside her mind in little, soft, spiraling loops.
Fragments.
"Not even kissed." The thought felt fragile, tinged with a quiet longing.
"Imagine if it was me." A spark of curiosity, a fleeting fantasy.
"Almost sixteen. Still nothing." A whisper of disappointment, of youthful impatience.
My chest felt tight, a strange ache. The tone was different now, completely unlike the sharp triumph from before. Not playful. Not vengeful.
It was soft.
Lonely.
Private in a way that made me feel like I absolutely shouldn't be listening—and also like I completely couldn't stop. The thoughts carried like whispers on heat, radiating from her, palpable in the cold air.
I stood perfectly still at the very edge of the woods, my body a silent sentinel, staring between the last branches and the rough-hewn fence posts. My eyes scanned the quiet houses, one after another, trying to pinpoint the source.
Somewhere inside one of them—she was there.
And she had no idea what she was letting out into the world, what she was broadcasting.
I didn't need to see her face. Though I want to.
I could feel her. Her emotions, her desires, the very essence of her being.
And I wanted more. A deep, consuming hunger, different from any thirst I'd known.
I focused my senses, narrowing the field, until the direction of her voice led me to a specific house. It was a modest, two-story structure, its windows dark in the gathering twilight. I got closer, moving like a phantom, until I could see a single window on the second floor that seemed to hum with her presence. The air around it carried her scent, now at its fullest, its most potent, its most captivating.
I could hear her heartbeat, a rapid, insistent rhythm in the quiet room. I could almost feel the way the blood rushed through her veins, a warm, vital current. I could feel the intricate nuances of her emotions, the way she was feeling right at this moment. I wanted her near, wanted to feel that vibrant mind up close, but I couldn't risk exposing myself, not yet.
So I leaped, a silent, agile blur, onto the sturdy branch of a nearby tree. I settled into the dense foliage, becoming one with the shadows, and waited for the moment she stepped out.