The raven fluttered and flapped in the branches above, but he couldn’t pull himself away from Dad’s body. He and mom sat like that for a long time, crying against him until he grew cold and stiff.
Easton had never heard someone break before, but he knew whatever was happening to Mom was awful.
Mom shook his body. “I was going to take him and leave, and you wouldn’t let me! He can control his bear now. We could’ve made it! And you ripped that away from me. And now you’ve left me? You’ve left us here in this hell you created? You can’t.” She clenched his shirt in her fists. “You can’t, Russel. Do you hear me? Easton will be all alone!”
All alone?
So many tears. Mom’s face leaked on and on, long after Easton had run dry. He eased away, lay against a felled tree and watched Mom cry. The evening shadows had turned to darkness as the sun sank behind the mountains. The light from the cabin was the only thing that lit the clearing. Not even the moon was full enough to lend them adequate light. Mom stood up, muttering strings of words that didn’t make any sense at all. They meant nothing. Maybe they weren’t even words at all.
Mom didn’t see him anymore as she stood and began gathering wood. Her eyes had gone empty, and her tears had dried on her cheeks. She couldn’t see as well in the dark as him, yet she found wood as though she had the forest memorized.
Silently, he helped her. He was small yet, only eight, but Mom was pregnant and heartbroken, and whatever she was doing right now, he could lighten her load. Alongside her, he dragged wood into the clearing in front of their cabin until the early hours of the morning. She didn’t answer him when he asked questions, so he gave up trying.
And when the first streaks of pink brushed the horizon, Mom asked him to help her drag Dad’s body to the pile of wood. And then she lit a match and watched him burn.
Easton buried his face against Mom’s side and clutched her dirty dress, unable to watch the fire consume his dad. “Why?” he asked.
Mom inhaled deeply and asked, “Easton?” as if she’d only just noticed him clutching onto her.
“Why are we burning him?”
“Because, my boy. Your daddy would haunt these woods for always. You and I see the ghosts, Easton. We’ll burn his belongings and put salt around the house next. That’s what you do, Easton. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said on a choked breath. He could smell Dad burning.
“Repeat it for me.”
“Burn the bones, burn the belongings, salt.”
“That’s a good boy.” Her voice sounded strange—dreamy—as she watched the flames. “You’ll need to do the same thing for my body.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Promise me, Easton. Don’t let me haunt you.”
And that’s when he felt it.
Mom’s belly was pulled up tight like a drum.
Easton gritted his teeth against the pain in his middle. He could still smell the smoke from the funeral pyre. The ribbon had done that. The raven’s trinkets held magic in them. She’d left it on the window sill for him to find when he’d gone back to the house with Mom. It was the raven’s way of telling him she was sorry for his loss, though how a young crow understood so much was beyond him.
Maybe she’d been his spirit animal.
If he hadn’t held her gift in his hand now, he could’ve convinced himself she hadn’t existed at all.
Chapter Eight
Maybe this was what a panic attack felt like. Aviana gripped the wheel and tried to stop panting. Keep it up, and she was going to pass out.
Shit, she couldn’t do this.
She thought of Easton’s kiss last night and shook her head to rattle out the weak thoughts. Yes, she could, because Easton had been gentle with her. He wasn’t all weapons and darkness. He was good in his middle, just like he always had been.
Last night, she’d seen the spark of the boy she’d fallen in love with.
Easton was hers.
By the time she pulled under the Grayland Mobile Park sign, however, she was back to full-blown panic-mode. Today, she was going to put herself out there further than she ever had in her entire life. She was going to declare what she needed to make her life into the one she wanted.
Unfortunately, that life had somehow grown to include a crew of bear shifters—her biggest natural fear. From early childhood, she’d been told how volatile and murderous the apex predator shifters were. They weren’t like her people, who were scavenger shifters, politely preying on already deceased things. Bears killed what they wanted and didn’t give second thoughts to carcasses.
Great risk brought the possibility of great reward, though, and Easton was worth it. He really was. Deep breath. Chest out, back straight. Smile. Bigger. Let’s do this.