Red Snow

Part 3

BACK INSIDE, DAPHNE grabs some spiced pumpkin bread and green tea from the Cupboard, and sitting cross-legged in the salt circle, she waves her arms so that the mirrors expose the perimeter scene once again. The possible intruder removes something from of one of his vest pockets. It looks like a small metal box. A witch wouldn't carry such a thing, would he? Waving her hand upward to increase the volume from the mirror, the cabin fills with the ever-present birdsong of the Outside and a crackling noise followed by a beep.

"Officer Cadwell reporting. Base unit, come in please. Over."

She's transfixed by the man's deep voice.

More crackling. She bites her pumpkin bread and sips her tea. It's not as good as the cocoa, but sometimes the Cupboard messes with her.

"Base here. Over."

"I've lost her trail. Too many pine needles on the forest floor. I'm going to continue south, but I'm worried, Kate. It's already been six hours. Over."

Kate? Who is Kate? Is she the witch?

"We'll find her, Zach. We have to."

"She's only five. And you know what people say about these woods."

"You don't believe those old stories," Kate's voice crackles.

"I do," he says, his eyes sunken. "Cadwell out." He slips the box back into his pocket. "At least I hope the stories are true, or all this will be for nothing," he whispers. Wiping a tear with his shoulder, he lowers his grip on the reins and kicks the horse on the flank. The stallion whinnies and takes off at a trot through the sunlit forest skirting Daphne's wintry domain. He is so close to the border of the Forbidden Forest, it's as if he knows it's there. Perhaps it's the horse. Sometimes animals, with their heightened senses, can detect the wards.

Who is the man looking for? A five-year-old girl. She must be important to him. And what did he mean 'stories about the forest?' All what is for nothing? Have others disappeared?

One thing is clear—this Cadwell is not a witch because witches don't cry. At least she's never seen Claudia shed a tear, and witches in her books don't cry either.

Daphne murmurs a prayer that the man finds who he's searching for. She slices her arm downward to mute the birdsong from Outside. The birds Inside don't sing, and listening to them makes Daphne sad.

Pink sunrise glows through the eastern window. Daphne's behind aches from sitting so long on the hard floor, but she's mesmerized by the mysterious man and his horse as they ride past her world in silence. She admires his form. Even though he has dark circles under his eyes, there are crinkles next to them. He must normally love to laugh.

The horse's ears go up, nostrils flare, and it side-steps. The man pets its neck, trying to calm the beast, but to no avail. It rears, sending the man flying. His talking box falls to the ground of the Outside as he sails through the wards to the Inside.

Daphne covers her mouth. How is this possible? No one can get past the enchantments. And what upset the horse? Why does she have the feeling it was a certain snake?

The man slams head first into the trunk of one of the younger trees that populate the border. He crumples to the ground, head bleeding, and unconscious. Seconds later, a certain snake is slowly wrapping itself around the man's torso.

Eugene is going cannibal!

Daphne leaps up, spilling the cold tea and ruining the salt circle. The mirrors become reflective once again, revealing her ashen face and bloodshot eyes. Heart hammering, she races out the door and runs toward the eastern border. Her still depleted body—lungs burning with icy air, calves on fire, sides aching—wants to collapse. Her head swims, but she wills herself to keep up the pace.