Near the Bone by Christina Henry (the mitten read aloud txt) 📕

“I’m not certain,” Mattie said. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? What else could have killed that squirrel?”

“What kind of poison is it?”

Mattie shook her head. “I didn’t look at it very closely.”

“We have to get her to a hospital. I was worried about an infection before, or stress or shock or whatever. But poison—I mean, it could be damaging her brain or her organs permanently right now while we’re standing around talking.” He grabbed the ropes and pulled at the sled with more energy than before. “That guy is a garbage person, you know that? A complete and total garbage person.”

“I don’t want to defend William,” she said. “But I think if he put poison on the trap it was because he wanted to make sure he caught the creature.”

“It doesn’t matter what his reasons are,” C.P. said. “He’s still a garbage person. Leave aside what he did to Jen. Look what he did to you.”

“I know what he did to me,” Mattie said quietly.

“I know you know. And that’s why you should agree with me when I say he is a garbage person.”

“Yes,” Mattie said. “He is. A garbage person.”

She giggled, and it so surprised her that she covered her mouth with her mitten. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a noise like that come out of her own mouth.

C.P. noticed, and he laughed, too. “Total garbage. A wet bag filled with trash.”

The laugh bubbled up again. “Yes. Nothing but trash.”

Soon they were both laughing, laughing so hard that tears streamed out of their eyes.

“Garbage person, garbage person,” Mattie said. She’d never heard such a phrase before and it was so funny, so funny because it was true and because she was scared and because she was running away from the man who’d kidnapped her for twelve years, that complete and total garbage person.

After a few minutes their laughter seemed to peter out, though they still grinned idiotically at one another.

And that was when Mattie noticed the woods had gone silent.

“What is it?” C.P. asked, halting.

“It’s here,” Mattie whispered.

The back of her neck prickled. She tilted her head back, trying to see the monster hiding up above. She knew it was there. It was always there, impossibly so. How could something so large hide in the shelter of pine boughs?

“How do you know?” he whispered back, his eyes scanning the trees as hers did.

“It’s quiet,” she said. “Go, go, as fast as you can but don’t run.”

“The rifle,” he moaned. “I forgot the rifle. I was thinking about food and about Jen and about maybe getting to the vehicle, and then we found that trunk and everything was so weird and I left the rifle in the cabin.”

“It’s okay,” Mattie said. She didn’t think that rifle could do anything against the creature in any case.

She heard the harshness of her breath, the sound of their boots in the snow, the swish of the sled’s runners, the rustle of their clothes. But she didn’t hear the creature, though she knew it was keeping pace with them above.

It can be silent when it wants to, she thought, not for the first time.

And thus far it had always been silent when it didn’t intend to attack. So maybe they were safe. Maybe it was just watching them, making certain that they didn’t go anywhere near its lair.

Maybe it would let them go.

Maybe.

A branch cracked above them.

Mattie felt a rush of air, smelled rank and rotten meat, saw an impossibly huge paw tipped by shining claws. Then C.P. was screaming, and Jen was gone, and so was the creature.

“Jen!” he shouted. “Jen!”

There was nothing. All that was left was an empty sled, the straps sliced in two, and the remains of the blanket that had fallen off Jen as the creature lifted her into the trees.

“Why?” C.P. shouted. “Why her? Why? Jen! Jen!”

Mattie grabbed his arm and pulled. “She can’t hear you. Come on, come on, run now.”

But he seemed in a daze, half-furious and half-baffled, and his legs moved in slow motion.

“Why did it take her? Why? She was unconscious. She wasn’t any threat. Why didn’t it take me instead? What am I going to do? How could they leave me here alone?”

“Run,” Mattie said, tugging him along. “You’re not alone. I’m here, too. Come on, run.”

The creature watched them. Mattie felt its eyes on her. But it didn’t follow. It had its prize and it didn’t need to. She wasn’t sure how she knew that but she was certain.

C.P. stumbled along beside her, mumbling about Jen, about Griffin, about their families and what he would say to them. Mattie didn’t listen to the exact words. She just wanted to get to the stream, where they would be out in the open and the creature wouldn’t be able to swoop down upon them. It would have to show itself.

They broke into the clearing, and Mattie kept pulling C.P. until they crossed the water and were safely on the other bank.

There, she thought. It can’t sneak up on us now. It’s on the other side of the stream.

C.P. bent over, holding his stomach with both arms. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand. Why would it take Jen? Why did it take Griffin in the first place? Why wouldn’t it just kill all of us?”

Now that they weren’t running for their lives Mattie wondered that, too. The creature was so much bigger than them. All of their strength combined couldn’t have prevented the monster from killing them. So why had it taken Griffin away? Griffin had been unconscious at the time, and no threat at all. And it had been the same for Jen.

“Wait,” Mattie said, trying to grab at the threads of an idea. “Wait. I think it took them because they were no threat.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does, if you think about animal behavior. Even animals that you think of as big and powerful will try to