CHAPTER 28: FRESH IS BEST

The forest was still.

Snow clung to the limbs of the pine trees, heavy and silent, and the sky above had shifted into a deep, steel-gray, as twilight folded over the world like a wool blanket.

Seraphina stood slowly, her bare fingers twitching once before she wiped the blood on her leggings. The bear lay dead at her feet, steam rising faintly from its open mouth, even as the body was already cooling fast in the cold.

She tilted her head.

Then, without ceremony, she crouched again, gripped it by the foreleg and haunch, and heaved the carcass up over her shoulder. Her spine didn’t strain. Her knees didn’t buckle. The thing inside her purred with satisfaction, pleased to be carrying proof of its dominance home.

By the time she stepped out of the woods, her breath had slowed and her skin had gone cool again. No flush. No tremble. Just the soft thud of the bear’s limbs with each step she took.

Inside the cabin, she didn’t bother laying it gently down. It hit the floorboards with a dull, wet sound.

She grabbed her phone, wiped the screen on her sleeve, and typed:

"How to skin and clean a black bear."

Her fingers didn’t tremble. The screen lit up with a dozen step-by-step tutorials, some with gory thumbnails, others with proud hunters posing beside their kills. She chose a basic one—minimal talking, good angles, and clear cuts.

Then she rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

"Cut from sternum to groin," she murmured aloud, looking down at her phone before looking over at the dead bear. "Avoid puncturing the stomach. Use a small blade for the paws." Her lips quirked. "Sounds easy enough."

Two hours later, the cabin looked like a horror scene. Blood pooled under the worktable, a tarp barely catching the worst of it. Steam curled from the opened ribcage, and the warm meat glistened red and alive.

She tore into the liver first—rich, thick, metallic. Then the heart. She bit down with sharp teeth and chewed slowly, letting the hot blood run over her tongue.

Her pupils shrank for the first time in days.

She ate until she wasn’t hungry anymore. Until the monster inside of her curled into itself like a sated cat and finally slept.

Then she stood, wiped her mouth on her bare arm, and looked toward the garage. Grabbing the stacks of meat, she walked out of the cabin and to the garage located behind the building and in front of the woods.

Opening a side door, she looked at the empty space. There were tools off to one side, along with a bench, and on the other wall sat a small chest freezer that the old owners had left.

The chest freezer groaned as she opened it. A plume of cold mist poured out, revealing vacuum-sealed packs of deer meat stacked neatly to the lid. She stared at it for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.

The color was all wrong.

The scent was too clean, too old. Even frozen, it didn’t look appetizing. There was no steam, no blood, no heartbeat.

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. When the Ice Age came, she didn’t know how much wildlife would be able to survive. And if it came down to a frozen steak or living humans, she hoped she would choose the frozen steak.

She wasn’t willing to expand her diet to that extent... yet.

She reached for a plastic tub beside the freezer and began packing fresh meat inside—wrapping it in butcher paper and stacking it carefully to freeze overnight. The garage wasn’t insulated, and there was no heat inside. It was cold enough that the meat would freeze quickly, and it wasn’t like she had to worry about other predators wandering close.

They knew better.

They could smell her.

Only the foolish—or the dying—would enter her territory now.

She jotted a reminder on the whiteboard near the back door with a marker she kept taped to the frame:

"Order a second freezer. Extra-large."

Her eyes narrowed on the space around the garage. She didn’t have a car, and if she had to hunt at least once a month, she was probably going to need a lot more freezers.

Going back to the whiteboard, she let out a sigh. "Order at least four freezers. Extra-large."

If this kept up, she was going to have to start taking extra shifts just to cover all the freezers she would need.

As she finished setting out the last slab of meat, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She didn’t move.

It buzzed again. A third time.

Then silence.

With a growl of irritation, she wiped her hands with a rag and dug out her phone. Lachlan’s name was on the screen.

She hesitated before answering.

"Hey," she said, her voice steady despite the blood drying at her neckline.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, his voice almost too casual. She could hear rustling in the background—gym noise, maybe a weight being racked.

"No," she said. "I was... busy."

"Doing anything fun?" he asked. "Because I had someone call in last minute for tomorrow morning’s shift. Thought you might want the hours."

She closed her eyes. Her muscles ached—not from fatigue, but from restraint. "Yeah. I can take it."

"You sure? You sound a little off."

"I’m fine," she said quickly. "Just tired. Needed to clear my head today."

He was quiet for a beat too long, and she imagined him squinting at his phone like he could see through her silence. "Alright. But if you need to talk... you know, I’m around. I seem to be weirdly invested in your well-being and all."

She smiled despite herself. "Weird is one word for it."

"I’ll see you at six," he said. "Don’t eat me. I’ll even bring you a coffee. Black like your soul."

"You know me so well," Sera smiled as she looked around the bloody living room. It would be enough time to clean everything up before it started to smell up the place. "I’ll see you then, boss."

She hung up before he could respond.

Her lips twitched into something between amusement and regret, but the expression didn’t last long. A new ping vibrated on her screen—a video call this time.

Her stomach dropped.

Mom.

She debated ignoring it.

But that would only lead to another call. And then another. And then a guilt-ridden voicemail reminding her that "family is all you have left when we’re gone."

With a slow breath, she accepted the call and held the screen up, a bright smile on her face as she pressed the button to blur her background.

Her mother’s face appeared—still sharp, still elegant in that unnervingly perfect way. Blonde hair set in loose curls, red sweater too bright for winter. Behind her, the familiar family living room glowed with Christmas decorations and twinkling lights.

"Sera, sweetheart! Finally! We weren’t sure if you were alive up there."

"I’m here," she said simply, forcing a smile on her face. She looked at the corner where her side of the screen could be seen, wanting to be sure that none of the blood on her could be seen.

"You look pale," her mother observed. "Are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I’m managing. I’ve been up late doing my assignments. Some of my teachers as the same next semester, so I wanted to be sure to leave a good impression."

The screen shifted slightly as Nadia popped into view, her toddler on her hip and a baby bottle tucked under her arm. "Hey, little sis," Nadia grinned. "Don’t mind Mom—she thinks everyone dies if they skip one dinner."

"Hi, Sera!" her nephew shouted, partially garbled but enthusiastic.

"Hi, pumpkin," she said, offering a faint smile. "Looks like you’ve got your hands full," she continued, looking back at her sister.

"Always," Nadia sighed dramatically. "But it’s worth it. You really should come down for New Year’s. Just for a few hours. You know they’d all love to see you."

"I can’t," Seraphina replied automatically.

"Why not?" her mother asked, her lips already tightening.

"I’ve decided to pick up a couple of extra shifts at the gym. I can’t say no to holiday pay."

Her mother frowned, but Sera knew what buttons to press. "You really can’t turn down time and a half. Okay... we’ll see you when we get back, and maybe we can plan something then. Nadia is talking about coming up for part of the summer. You can see her there."

"That sounds perfect," Sera agreed, her voice smooth, "Hey N, how’s your husband?"

"Oh, you know... tired. Working late all week, and then Dad has this stupid project dumped on him, so he’s all grumpy about getting back right after Christmas..."

The conversation drifted for a few more minutes, but Seraphina wasn’t really listening. Her gaze drifted to the bear fur she’d yet to move, to the trail of blood barely out of frame, and to the candle burning low on the counter.

The promise of a normal world didn’t fit her anymore. And yet, she still held the phone steady until the call ended and the screen went dark again.

Then she exhaled.

Then, without another word, she went back to work. After all, a bearskin rug would look perfect in front of the fireplace.