Chapter 2: The Guardian’s Warning

At lunch, he brought out a plate of smoked sausage and some cornbread, saying they were town specialties.

The sausage was whole, shiny and rich. The golden cornbread was crunchy outside. Soft and melting inside, with a strange but tempting smell.

In a few minutes, we’d eaten everything.

It was so delicious—easily the best food I’d ever tasted!

The food was unlike anything I’d had before—smoky, savory, just a hint of something wild. I let out a low sigh, wishing for seconds. My stomach growled for more, but I kept my manners, wiping my hands on my jeans and thanking the councilman. Even Savannah looked impressed, licking her lips and asking for seconds.

Autumn licked her lips and tried to ask for more, but the councilman refused. He said this was the most precious, top-grade stuff, and only a little could be served at a time.

We exchanged awkward glances and could only agree. No one dared argue.

The tension around the table was thick. The councilman’s refusal was final, and even Savannah backed down, pouting but silent. I caught Autumn’s eye, both of us shrugging in defeat. Whatever. No point pushing our luck.

After the simple meal, the councilman took us for a walk. When we reached the back woods, he pointed at a tree and a little white church in the distance, saying that was where the town’s guardian spirit resided, and warned us not to go into the back woods.

That was a big no-no.

I bowed my head in respect, and when I looked up, Savannah’s face was full of disdain.

As someone from the hills, I had to be respectful to the guardian spirit. People like her didn’t get it.

The old man’s warning felt heavy, like a dare wrapped in superstition. Still, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes a little. Who believed in this stuff anymore? Savannah snickered, rolling her eyes, but I made the sign of the cross just in case. Out here, you didn’t mess with things you didn’t understand.

In the hills, it gets dark fast. Way faster than in the city. Everyone left soon after, leaving only me to clean the used paintbrushes.

An old woman came from a distance and stood in front of me.

She was old, but her eyes were clear and bright. She tapped her cane on the ground and told me to go back early. She warned me not to wander around the village at night—it was dangerous.

Her voice was raspy, but there was a warmth to it. Something about her made me feel safe, just for a moment.

The dangers in the woods were usually coyotes, maybe a bear. I was about to say I wasn’t scared, but then I saw how serious she looked. Forget it, she meant well. I quickly thanked her and headed back. Halfway there, I turned around out of habit.

Her figure had melted into the night. But her face was eerily pale, watching me with a half-smile. She looked more like a ghost from a campfire story! A chill ran up my spine, and I rushed back to my room.

The memory of her pale face lingered, making the hairs on my arms stand up. I shook it off, but the feeling wouldn’t leave. I picked up my pace, heart thumping, the crunch of leaves behind me sounding far too close. By the time I reached the porch, I was out of breath, hands shaking as I fumbled with the doorknob.

But as soon as I walked in, something happened.

The room smelled like dust and old sweat. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I saw Autumn kneeling on the ground. When she saw me come in, it was as if she saw a lifeline.

Savannah crooked her finger, and I trudged over, knowing I had no choice. Great. “You’re just in time. Go, you two, find me something to eat. That old lady still hasn’t brought any food!”

I looked out the window. It was pitch black. Where were we supposed to find her food?

Before I could refuse, a mug smashed onto my head, blood pouring down. Autumn didn’t dare provoke her anymore, nodding and bowing, dragging me out the door.

The mug hit me with a dull thud. Stars burst behind my eyes. I pressed a hand to my scalp, feeling blood seep between my fingers. Autumn’s grip on my wrist was desperate, her breath coming in quick gasps as she pulled me outside.

The night air was cold, almost icy. The village was dead silent—not a sound from the houses or the road. Not even a dog barked. The quiet was unnerving.

Every step echoed on the gravel path. The silence pressed in, making my ears ring. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for something awful to happen.

Autumn was quick on her feet. She tiptoed to the woodshed, rummaged around, and finally found some sausage and cornbread, stuffing them into my hands.

On the way back, we passed a fork in the road.

The red ribbons on the guardian’s tree fluttered in the still air, looking creepy in the middle of the night. Wasn’t it supposed to be in the back woods? Why was it here?

The ribbons shimmered in the moonlight, casting blood-red shadows on the dirt. My stomach twisted. Autumn barely glanced at them, too focused on her prize. I slowed, the hair on my neck prickling, the tree’s branches twisting like fingers in the dark. Creepy as hell.

Autumn went straight for the tree, digging and scratching at the ground, then kicking it a few times.

Her face lit up with excitement. “Delaney, there’s a lot of money here!”

It must have been someone else’s buried offering. My mom always said you can’t just touch that. Besides, the tree seemed off. I had a bad feeling. She seemed possessed and wouldn’t leave. Unable to persuade her, I could only take the food and go back.

I called her name, but she ignored me, her eyes wild with greed. What was wrong with her? My mother’s warnings echoed in my mind—never take what’s meant for the spirits. I clutched the food and hurried away, the feeling of being watched crawling up my spine.

When I got to the house, I heard banging from the west woodshed. My heart skipped. What now? It sounded like a small animal blindly hitting the door.

Curiosity got the better of me. I crept over and peeked through a crack.

There was no light inside, just darkness. Moonlight came through the gap, and I saw it wasn’t an animal, but a person! Their hair covered half their face, only one eye showing, staring hungrily at the cornbread in my hand. They looked like they hadn’t eaten in ages.

Their hands were skeletal. Trembling as they reached for the light. The hunger in that single visible eye was desperate, almost feral. My breath caught in my throat. I hesitated, then broke off a piece of cornbread, sliding it through the gap.

I didn’t have much food, so I gave them one piece of cornbread, then hurried back.

What waited for me was Savannah’s torrent of abuse. There was only one bed—obviously, Savannah's. Mariah and I slept on the floor.

Savannah’s voice was a whip, lashing me with insults. I curled up on the thin blanket, every bruise throbbing. The floor was cold and unforgiving, but I was too tired to care. I stared at the ceiling, counting cracks until sleep finally took me. God, I was exhausted.

At dawn, I heard lively voices outside the door.

I opened the door, still groggy, and saw a shirtless man standing in the yard, looking anxious.

“Something’s happened! The girl who came with you is dead!”

The words barely registered. My mind spun, trying to make sense of the panic in his voice. The morning air was sharp, the world suddenly too bright, too real.

The three of us were in the room, so only… Oh God. Autumn!

My heart dropped like a stone. I scrambled into my shoes, panic clawing at my chest. Autumn—please, no. Don’t let it be her.

I ran to the fork in the road from yesterday, but saw nothing. Strange, the tree had definitely been here yesterday.

The councilman stood across from me, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over me. My stomach twisted with guilt, thinking about the food I’d stolen last night. Luckily, the others soon arrived, and we all went to the back woods together.

One look, and I couldn’t help but gasp. Autumn was hanging from a tree, her face blue and purple, eyes blood-red. Branches pierced through her body, blood everywhere.