Eternal [HS]

Chapter Eight

SOMETHING IS OFF ABOUT Harry.

She doesn't know what it is, or if it's something significant, but something about him isn't adding up, and she's been tearing it apart in her mind trying to figure out what it is.

Leaves crunch beneath Jo's feet with every step she takes across the forest floor. The trees behind his house are thick and tall, creating a canopy that casts darkness upon the perpetual gloom that already hangs over the area. The clothing wrapped around her shoulders is his, as is the dagger holstered at her hip. With a subtle movement she practiced twenty times in the mirror this morning, she could have the weapon in hand within seconds, and, that, she supposes, is the only reason she's out here alone.

It can't be too dangerous anyway, especially since no one knows about his second house, let alone where it is. With that and the dagger on her side, she set out for some fresh air after spending her entire time here inside of the house. If she had to spend another second alone there, she would've lost her mind, and the forest appeared as a wonderful place to go to think clearly.

With nothing but nature surrounding her, she becomes lost in her thoughts.

They interweave every which way, twisting and turning until they turn muddled, but being outside helps. It's quieter here, somehow, despite the sound of the stream she follows through the woods providing a constant white noise.

Harry left the house hours ago.

He said something to her on his way out about the investigation, but she was too busy staring off into space beyond the top of the book she borrowed from his vast collection to listen clearly. She noticed his lack of warm clothing for a day cold enough to make her bundle up in a scarf she found in the bottom drawer of the dresser.

It's more for fashion than practicality, but beggars can't be choosers. Even though it's thin and practically see-through, she keeps it tied as a headscarf to keep her ears as warm as possible. The only other thing she could find to keep warm was a black wool cape that falls to her mid-thigh, so she slung it over her shoulders and stepped out into the winter air without a moment to spare.

It's somewhat infuriating that no matter how far she walks through the forest, he's always following her in one way or another. Whether it be the scarf around her head that smells like him or the evergreen presence of his secrecy lingering in her thoughts, he's always here without having to be here.

It makes her face flush with embarrassment because the whole purpose of coming out here was to find a reprieve from his house, his books, and his secrets, yet her mind always crawls its way back to him. It drags her, kicking and screaming, to the topic that has been her sole companion in his physical absence. It would be easier if it were actually him rather than the constant anxiety that surrounds the secret she has yet to unravel. It would be easier if she were able to go home—

A branch snaps somewhere behind her, and she whips her head around to the origin of the sound. Numb fingers curl around the handle of the dagger and tug it out from beneath the cape, the ornate gold detailing making a soft rattling noise with the sharp motion.

Her arms are instantly positioned in defense of an attack, just as her mother taught her years ago, but there's nothing to be seen.

No creeping predator is standing before her or lurking behind the tree she slowly moves past, no group of men waiting for her to mistrust her instincts and continue taking the lonely pathway to the train station like they were that night, just a vast landscape of stripped trees and a safe home waiting for her in the distance.

Still, there's a part of her that cannot let go of this lingering sense of being watched. It feels like every tree she steps past has a pair of eyes trained directly on her, and she doesn't know what to do.