I am all by myself / The trees are not trees / The birds are not birds / And I am not me / But something that has been walking for a very long time.
YELLOWJACKETS. Lottie Matthews
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Chapter Fourteen.
Natalie's warm breath lingered inside the cabin as her jaw clenched, staring at the morning prayer circle before her. Sade stood behind the Scatorccio girl, her arms crossed, eyes cold. The prayer circle sat in unison, voices murmuring in soft harmony. The muffled words sent a chill crawling up Natalie's straightened spine. Not because of the prayer itself, but because of the way they said it—like they were pleading for mercy from the Wilderness.
"He believes in it." Sade muttered, just loud enough for Natalie to hear.
Natalie glances over her shoulder at the teenaged girl. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're not over there in the whole ritualistic bullshit."
"I. . . don't know what I think. Travis needs something to believe in." Natalie scoffed under her breath, but the sound barely carried over the murmured prayer. The Wilderness. The idea of it alone made her skin crawl—an unseen force, a presence that the others whispered about in the dead of night. She had never believed in it, not in the way Travis did. Not in the way the others did. Especially not Lottie.
Their hands clasped together, heads bowed as if lowering their eyes would save them from whatever was out there. The circle flickered in the morning light, the glow of the fire pit throwing jagged shadows across their faces. The embers pulsed like a dying heart.
Sade shifts, her weight pressing into the creaky wooden floor. "It's getting worse." Natalie didn't have to ask what she meant. They had all felt it—the restlessness in the trees, the way the nights stretched on too long, like time itself was bending under something unseen. Their gaze flicked to Travis, who stood in front of Lottie, hands stuffed so tightly in his pockets
His lips moved feverishly, whispering the words as they talked. His dark hair was covered with bundles of ripped newspaper and a hood, strands sticking to his forehead despite the crisp morning air.
Natalie swallowed, a bitter taste settling at the back of her throat. "It needs to stop. Javi is. . . " she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. Her voice barely rose above a whisper, uncertainty curling around each syllable.
Sade exhales sharply through her nose. "Stop."
"Sade," Natalie's lips shift into a puppy-like pout, "there's no possible—or normal way that Javi could survive-"
"None of the shit that's happened in these fucking woods have been normal." Sade snaps, cutting her off. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small wooden owl figurine, its carved eyes dull in the dim light. She turned it over in her palm, the grooves worn smooth from restless handling.
"In the summer," Sade mumbles, her voice quieter now, "Javi told me he saw an owl in his dreams. Said it felt like his dad was protecting him, Nat. Maybe Javi running away. . . is his protection."
