Archive of Our Own

Walter is an obnoxiously legal driver.

“Could you,” Misty waves her hand to the empty stretch of road ahead, “pick it up?”

Walter holds one finger up and wags it, and Misty thinks about how easy it would be to bite it off. Bones come apart at the knuckle far easier than anyone expects. “Best to not,” he says, crisply. “Moving violations are the unlikely cause of arrest for a number of criminals who were otherwise quite careful. Ted Bundy, for example.”

Misty clenches her teeth and looks forward, lips tight and nostrils flaring. Like she doesn’t already know that. Like any of it matters when her best friend’s life could be in danger, twenty miles down this very road.

“We’re not criminals, though,” Misty huffs, and looks over at the feather foot. The skepticism is clear on his face. Which is fair, considering all the illegal hacking he’d done to get them to this point. And the bits and pieces she’d had to reveal to Walter about her own activities—she’d kept it vague, but it’s hard to claim complete innocence when some cult is way too into your best friend.

Walter’s bright, which is a blessing and a curse in this circumstance, so she sighs and tosses him a bone. “Not that the cops could pin on us, anyway. Also, we don’t have murder gear visible in the backseat,” she jerks her thumb between the seats. “So step on it.”

Walter makes a show of looking all around the road—still clearly empty—but then the speedometer starts to tick up. Not as much as she wants or needs when Nat is being held against her will, but every second closer helps soothe the tension in Misty’s body.

“We should probably figure out a plan of attack once we get there. Not an actual attack,” he looks at her quickly. “Or at least, not head-on. I think stealth is our friend in this circumstance.” Misty nods, distractedly, and listens as he starts to talk through possible scenarios.

Half-listens, at least. All she can think about is Natalie, and what she must be going through. Nat is one of the strongest, bravest women she knows—and she knows a large number who fit that bill—but still, she must be frightened, or at least uncomfortable. Surely, Misty will be a welcome sight. Natalie will look up and see her savior, and be more grateful and appreciative of Misty than she ever has been.

Misty drifts, imagining a Natalie who smiles at her freely, who texts her first, who marvels at what Misty has been able to figure out to rescue her (even if assistance was needed).

“—if the doors are locked. Assuming they’re standard, or you have a superior lock picking kit. Though the one I have is fairly reliable.”

Misty tunes back in to hear Walter still talking, and she stops herself from rubbing her temples in irritation. Does he never shut up? Misty has been tolerating his endless string of facts and questions and theories for a week now, and she’s at her limit.

Shut the fuck up, she almost snaps, but she bites back the words. He’s so irritatingly familiar to her, like a song that has been played on the radio too many times.

At first she’d been, well, flattered wasn’t the right word—enamored with the novelty, she supposes, of his interest. The disarming rarity of that kind of unprompted attention. But his large eyes and desperate demeanor became cloying so quickly.

Misty is itching to cut him loose, but—though it pains her to admit it—she needs all the help she can get to free her friend. Natalie is counting on her.

Walter slows the car down and Misty perks up as the road takes them through thick lines of trees. The road curves, and when it opens back up, Misty can see a long stretch in front of them.

And in the farthest distance, the compound.

Misty’s surprised to see it, honestly. When she and Walter had tracked the clues back to a wellness retreat, they had both assumed it was a cover. Not that it couldn’t still be one, of course, but from the outside it does just appear to be some big-bucks glamping retreat.

Not the kind of place you’d expect your best friend to have been kidnapped to.

Misty sits up in her seat as Walter slows a little. “We’re going to be completely visible if we get any closer,” he points out. “We should find somewhere to park and walk up.”

She wants to disagree. The thought of waiting any longer to find Nat is making her skin itch. So she curls her palms over her knees, and squeezes, trying to ground herself. You won’t do her any good if you get captured, too, she reminds herself, and breathes slowly through her nose.

“Right,” she nods. The car is still. “Well, go! Turn around, we can park back at that tree line.” Walter does as she says, and there is something so irritating about his acquiescence.

Misty directs him where they can stash the car, and once they’ve parked she starts to tear off in the direction of the compound.

“We should wait until dark,” Walter suggests, but Misty shakes her head and keeps up her pace through the trees. The scent of it is familiar, but too weak. This forest doesn’t smell like theirs; it’s too cared for, too clean. Their forest always smelled of fear and hunger and grief.

The sun is getting close to setting, but there is plenty of light as she nears the large fence that surrounds the property. As she does, she realizes that there are people out and about, walking and laughing and chatting, like this isn’t the place where someone is being kept against her will.

Misty’s eyes start scanning for any sign of Natalie, listening for shouting or—knowing Nat—gunshots. Walter is behind her, she’s pretty sure, but her vision is tunneling until she can only see the people in front of her, just on the other side of the tall fence.

Her heart stops in her chest.

Natalie.

Through the large gap between the fence posts, Misty can see her. She’s dressed in, well, not her usual style, but it’s her.

She’s just walking, calm, like nothing is wrong, and Misty’s stomach drops. What have they done to her?

Misty starts to walk along the fence as she follows Natalie. Her heart is pounding and her ears feel thick like they’re buzzing. Misty follows, follows, tracking Natalie as she finally starts to move in her direction. When she does, Misty tosses a small rock toward Natalie, grateful that there aren’t quite as many people around her now.

Nat looks up when the rock lands near her feet. She scans the space around her before her eyes settle between the fence gap, on Misty’s face. Her eyes widen, and Misty beams at her.

It’s finally happening.

Misty brushes her hair from her face and waves sharply to gesture Natalie over. She walks directly toward Misty, not checking over her shoulder, but that’s fine; Misty has her back, and no one seems to be paying attention.

“Misty?” she asks, surprised, though she is smart enough to keep her voice low. “What are you doing here?”

Natalie’s hair and face look clean, and she’s wearing dark leggings and a cozy sweater. She seems lucid and stable, like she hasn’t been drugged, and she doesn’t appear to have immediate memory loss.

“I’m here to rescue you!” Misty jumps in excitement before couching back down slightly to look through the fence. The barrier is irritatingly large, and Misty realizes she can’t pull Natalie into the hug she has been dreaming of for more than a week. Instead, she tries to get her fill of Natalie with her eyes, scanning over her greedily as she steps into the frame of the fence.

When she’s close enough, Misty reaches out with her hands, and grabs at Natalie. Surprisingly, Nat lets her, and Misty is holding onto the sleeves of her sweater when Nat finally reaches the fence completely.

“How did you know I was here?” She sounds impressed, and Misty beams. “And who the fuck is he?”

Misty glances over her shoulder, remembering Walter is with. “Oh, just a friend. He helped me find you,” she says in a rush, too excited to finally be with Natalie again to watch her words. There were so many better ways to phrase it, so many ways she’d rehearsed the words to sound both humble but brilliant.

She’d blown her chance, but did any of that really matter right now? Natalie was okay, and hadn’t left her. Was happy to see her, even, Misty is pretty sure, though it’s not exactly how she had imagined Nat’s gratitude.

“Don’t worry about him,” Misty waves, trying to get Nat’s attention back on her. “Let’s get you out of here. We’re parked about a mile back. Do you think you can run it?”

Natalie’s head jerks back in surprise, and she snorts out a little laugh. “We’re not gonna Mission Impossible out of here.” Misty’s stomach drops, but Nat is still letting her hold onto her arm. “I wanna stay.”

“What?” Misty grabs Nat’s wrist in her right hand, and tugs her closer with the left. “But, I thought—you were kidnapped,” she ducks her head under the fence so she can look up at Nat with even bigger eyes. “You didn’t leave by choice.”

Nat looks down at Misty’s fingers digging into her wrist and softly shrieks, “Misty!” mindful of the others around. She does push Misty’s hands off of her now, and shakes her wrists loose of Misty’s too-tight grip.

“Jesus,” she hisses, and rubs at her wrist that had taken the brunt of it. “I was kidnapped. But I found something the other day in Lottie’s room, and I think she’s hiding something from us.”

Misty shakes her head, drooping curls bouncing with the force. “Wait, what? Our Lottie? Lottie Matthews? The Lottie who was committed to a mental institution in Switzerland, Lottie?” How on earth had that not come up when she and Walter had been digging around the purple cult?

Nat leans forward and nods. “Yes!” she seems excited about it, and Misty feels a deep sense of dread start to grow.

"Why would Lottie kidnap you?"

Nat's excitement mellows, and she shrugs a shoulder. "Long story." Her eyes dart over to Walter, and Misty nods in recognition. Later, then.

"What do you think she's hiding?"

Nat shakes her head, “Not sure yet." Misty looks at Walter sideways, and wishes she hadn't brought him. She wants Nat to speak freely. "But she wants to give me ‘a treatment’,” she scoffs, and punctuates the air with quotes, “tonight to try and unlock some memory she thinks I’m repressing.”

Misty’s brow furrows, and the dread grows as she frowns. “And you’re planning to do it?”

“Well, yeah,” Nat quirks one lip up as she laughs humorlessly, and raises a brow. “None of that shit she does actually works.” Misty stays quiet, but remembers Natalie accepting Lottie’s blessings over and over and over again. Sees her kneel with Travis at Lottie’s feet and respond during Lottie’s prayers.

“I just need to play along until I can dig around some more,” she continues, and Misty’s frown deepens as she remembers Natalie taking part in each ritual, growing more and more comfortable with the rhythm of it.

“See what she’s got tucked away in her quarters.” Misty flinches, thinking about Lottie taking Natalie aside and Nat’s demeanor softened after, even for a little.

“What?” Nat snaps, her excited tone dropping into a low and flat one. “What the fuck is the problem, I thought you’d be all in favor of this Scooby-Doo gang bullshit.” Misty watches her head bob with frustration. She waves a hand at Misty. “You can help.”

It’s not that Misty believes Lottie has magical powers. Obviously. She may not be quite as aggressively skeptical as Natalie, but twenty-five years is a long time to ruminate on something like what they went through in the wilderness, and she’s done a pretty good job in that span sorting out the real from the not-so-real.

And while there are still an unusually large number of uncategorized memories that lean a bit too far into the unexplainable, that’s not what gives Misty pause.

Lottie can be very convincing. And very, very charismatic.

Natalie might not remember—or have actively repressed—just how much Lottie had gotten all of them wrapped around her finger by that nineteenth month, Nat included, but Misty does.

Misty might have been the most tightly wrapped by the end, if she’s honest. It's hard not to worship someone who has given you everything you ever wanted.

“Help, how?” she asks slowly, not comfortable with this plan in the least.

“I’m supposed to meet her after dinner,” Nat starts, but Walter begins tapping Misty on the shoulder, pretty rapidly. Misty looks back at him, ready to snap at him for cutting Natalie off, when she notices him looking over the fence, toward a woman walking in their direction.

Misty’s eyes widen and she stands back from the fence.

Lottie.

Misty hasn’t seen her since they returned from the wilderness, but she’s everything Misty remembers, all effortless grace and calm aura. Commanding and unassuming all at the same time. A true queen.

Misty’s heart starts to beat a little faster, and she can’t take her eyes off of Lottie as she approaches.

“Misty,” she greets, smile open and welcoming. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

She knows she should be doing something, saying something and getting Natalie out of here, but she just can’t. Her mouth is dry and her palms are slick, and she has a sudden urge to drop to her knees in supplication.

“And you brought a guest,” she gestures to Walter. At least, Misty assumes. She still can’t look away. “Why don’t you all come inside. It’s going to get dark soon, and we have a lovely dinner to share.”

Lottie raises her hand above her head and waves, and the fence separating her and Natalie beeps before it starts to swing open.

Walter takes a step closer to Misty and she finally breaks Lottie’s gaze to look over at him. “Be careful with her,” she whispers, suddenly feeling a bit cruel for bringing an outsider into all of this—and not cruel in the good, powerful way.

Misty steps through the gate and Lottie turns to lead them toward the largest structure on the compound. Natalie falls into step with her, and it should feel nice but Misty just feels very untethered, like she might float off at any moment.

That had always been what made Lottie so dangerous for her. The only times she'd ever been afraid of herself, the only times she's felt out of control have been because of Lottie.

Not that Lottie made her act unlike herself, or do things Misty didn't want to do; just the opposite. Lottie's cool confidence and quiet support were too encouraging, always nodding as Misty took one more step down her darkest path.

A path none of the others would have followed, she's pretty sure. As good as that darkest path felt, its loneliness was always too steep a price for the girl who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved by her team.

That was Lottie's danger to Misty. Her ability to make Misty feel like she wouldn't be alone when she took those steps deeper and deeper and deeper, cutting herself off from any salvageable friendships. Eroding her control until she no longer remembered what she should do, how she had to act around others to be tolerable.

Misty has often wondered how far she would have gone by month twenty, month twenty-one, or later. If there was any future in that alternate reality for reconnecting with Shauna and Taissa. A future where Natalie is beside her like this, present if not pleased to see her.

She doesn't think so.

“The fuck is up with you,” Nat asks under her breath, but Misty just shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she murmurs back, and finally snaps her attention from Lottie as they near the entrance. “What’s your plan?”

Nat sneers a little at Misty. “I’ll think of a new one. Just,” she gestures with her thumb back at Walter, trailing them, “keep your boyfriend out of it. There are already too many people around here who know about...things,” she lowers her voice. Misty isn’t sure how much “things” covers, but regardless, she agrees. She doesn’t add that Walter does already know about some things she needed to share to get them to this place.

“He’s a fellow citizen detective,” she says, intending to address the boyfriend accusation, but her head still feels cloudy from Lottie’s arrival.

“There’s a shocker,” Nat snorts, and her voice is sweet as she openly looks over her shoulder at him. “You ever meet anyone some other way?”

Misty purses her lips, in no mood for Natalie’s teasing, and follows Lottie into the lobby of the large building.

It’s wide open and relaxing, and very Lottie. There are fresh plants and beautiful drapes and piles of pillows settled around roaring fireplaces. Everyone she passes seems content, and friendly, and drawn to Lottie in a way Misty wishes she didn’t understand.

“The two of you must be tired,” Lottie clasps her hands delicately in front of her, her sun-yellow shawl sliding down her shoulders with the movement. “We have plenty of room for you to clean up before dinner, and then you can get some rest here tonight.” Lottie takes a step forward, and puts one hand on Misty’s shoulder. Her palm is warm, and grounding. Deceptively calming. “I’m sure we’ll all have a lot to talk about in the morning.”

Lottie shifts her attention to Nat, and Misty feels her face grow pinched as Lottie cups her shoulder in the same way. “I’ll see you for your treatment after dinner, Natalie.”

“Can’t wait,” Nat smiles sarcastically, tone sickly sweet. Lottie gives her a disapproving head tilt but says nothing, and takes a step away to speak with one of the men in purple, who must be her staff.

The staff member greets them and leads them out of the lobby, and down a hallway. “Natalie,” he gestures at the first door they reach, and Nat makes eye contact with Misty before she steps through the door into her room.

Misty and Walter follow a few steps farther down the hall, passing a couple of doors before the staff member stops and opens one. The room is empty, a simple cabin-style bedroom, and he gestures at Walter. “You can stay here…?”

“Oh! I’m Walter,” he holds out a stiff hand, and the other man shakes it with a kind smile, before he ushers Walter into the room. “I’ll see you soon,” Walter asks, voice a little panicked, as Misty continues down the hall.

“And yours,” the staff member says, and opens the door. Her room is similar to Walter’s, as far as she can tell, just a bed and nightstand in a plain cabin room.

“Thank you,” she smiles, anxious to get rid of this man. “When is dinner?”

“About forty-five minutes.”

“Great.” She starts to unbutton her thick yellow coat, too warm for the small cabin, and continues to smile at the staff member until he shuts the door behind him as he leaves. The moment he does, Misty drops her coat to the bed and starts to dart around the room, checking all of the usual spots for hidden cameras. She takes out her phone and uses the flashlight to look at the alarm clock, the smoke detector, the fan at the center of the ceiling.

Surprisingly, nothing.

She runs her hands over the frame of the bed, the legs of the nightstand, the window panes.

No listening devices either. Then again, Lottie had always been loaded. She wouldn’t be using the same caliber equipment she or Shauna could just get off the internet.

Sweep over, Misty plops down on the edge of the bed, and breathes.

Lottie had been a real surprise. As had how quickly Misty could feel herself slipping back into the wilderness, the latest months of their time there.

It was exhilarating. And bad. Not what they’d done, of course; that had been what it had been, and she had no issues with any of that, beyond knowing how little of it could be remembered fondly to the others.

The bad part was just how wild Lottie encouraged her to be. It had been a gradual descent, harmlessly following the rest of the team into Lottie’s rituals. She’d never been the only one, not even the first to do it.

But she’d enjoyed it the most. Oh, how she had enjoyed it.

A few times over the last few decades she had wondered what exactly the draw had been, how it had started. But everything was a tangled, pulsating mess: the hunger, the sharing, the rhythm and repetition of the rituals, the sense of victory each time she came out on top. The wrongness of all of it.

And at the center of it, Lottie. With her calm certainty that what they were doing was good, and right. That it was healing. It wasn’t something Misty needed to hear, but the others did. Lottie’s words, her guidance kept the others in it all with Misty, with Lottie. Kept them broken and bound, so that Misty could slot herself in where she otherwise would have never fit.

There is a knock at the door, and Misty squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head to snap out of it. She scoots off of the bed until her short legs can reach the ground, and shuffles over to open her door. Her heart pounds as she wonders who it might be.

“Hello.” Of course.

“Come in, Walter,” she steps back and as he passes she looks down the hall to see if anyone else—Nat—might be coming, but doesn’t see any movement. Dejected, she shuts the door.

“Lottie is Charlotte Matthews, she was in the crash with you,” he starts, and shows Misty a news article on his phone as explanation. “And she was committed shortly thereafter.” He lowers his phone, and his face softens with concern. “You seemed upset to see her.”

Misty angles her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s fine. I was surprised, that’s all. Not pleasant memories,” she lies, and tries to look as innocent as possible. Like someone scarred by their time in the wilderness.

“Hmm,” he hums. “Did you notice those symbols the staff was wearing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that. Have you? I tried to search for it, but it’s rather difficult to describe. Perhaps I could draw it, and do a reverse image search. I should get my laptop from my car. Since we’re staying here, it seems unnecessary to be parked so far away. We certainly failed at our stealth attempt.”

Misty thinks about Natalie warning her to keep Walter from learning too much, and gives him her most charming smile as he drones on and on. Finally, she says, “You know, now that I know this is just an issue between friends, I can take it from here.” She nods, but he doesn’t react. “You can head out,” she adds, more pointedly.

“Just like that? I have so many questions! As I mentioned, the odd symbol is quite compelling. Natalie mentioned your other friend giving her ‘treatments’ of some sort; do you know what that means?”

Misty starts to open her mouth, floundering for how to answer that question, when the bedroom door opens and Nat pushes through. “I can hear you two down the fucking hallway.”

Walter turns to face her. “Oh! My apologies, I’m usually much more careful.” He holds a hand out. “I’m Walter.”

Nat looks over his shoulder to Misty, before reaching out and taking his hand, the movement slow. “Natalie,” she answers, and smiles too-sweetly at him. “I need to talk with Misty.” Her voice is sickly sweet, and goosebumps break out across Misty’s body.

Nat lets go, and Walter drops his hands to the side. “Of course. Misty, I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Sure,” she smiles politely, and adds, “Don’t go snooping around. These aren’t people to mess with.”

Walter heads to the door but hesitates, and asks, “Should we avoid having dinner with them?”

“No,” Misty waves, at the same time that Natalie says, “Yes.” Walter hesitates, then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Nat’s smirking a little, looking so much like herself despite the nice sweater and styled hair. “You don’t need to scare him,” Misty tsks.

“Your little buddy cop should be scared,” Nat looks at her, hard. “This is some serious shit you brought him into.”

“Well, I didn’t know that this was related to,” she gestures between them, “what we did, did I? I just knew you were in danger. I didn’t feel like I had time to play it as safe or quiet as we have been the past few decades.”

Nat takes a little step back, and crosses her arms across her chest, fingers curling into the thick black wool of her sweater. Her brows furrow, and she looks away, some of the fight leaving her body. “Thanks,” she says, voice light like she’s confused.

Misty wants to reach out and hug her now that there’s no fence between them. But when she takes a step forward Nat is already walking toward Misty’s bed. She sits down on the edge, and rests her elbows on her knees.

“Lottie was there,” she says, voice tired, as Misty watches a new kind of tension fill her body. “The night Travis died.”

Nat’s face is drawn with grief, and Misty shuffles over to the other end of the bed, and sits down beside her friend. Nat’s hands dangle between her knees, and Misty takes the right one between her own, cupping it gently, but firmly.

Misty can feel herself relaxing at the familiarity of being back with Nat like this, though there is the smallest seed of irritation that it comes back to Travis. It always does, with Natalie.

“He put himself in that rig, but it wasn’t—it was an accident.” Misty squeezes Nat’s hand, and tries not to smile when Natalie squeezes back, small as it is. “He wanted to see…it,” she looks sideways at Misty, skepticism and frustration clear in her voice.

“Did he?” Misty prompts, and feels embarrassed when Nat looks at her with a sneer. “I mean, of course he didn’t. But what did Lottie say?” What did Lottie think happened? is the more accurate question, and she knows that’s what Natalie hears anyway. “Is this why she kidnapped you? I don’t get it.”

Nat starts to pull her hand back, clearly uncomfortable, and Misty reluctantly lets her go. Instead, she scoots her body a little closer, turning so she is right there looking at Nat with her wide eyes.

“It’s…complicated,” Nat hedges, and Misty furrows her brow, unsure why Natalie still won’t tell her—they’re alone now, after all. She’s about to push, but Nat leans away, putting her weight on her left hand, farthest from Misty. “And, it’s Lottie. She got distracted,” Nat bites out the word, anger obvious, “and Travis got hurt. Big fucking surprise.”

Misty wishes she didn’t feel the need to defend Lottie in that moment, but she does. Nat’s not wrong; Misty can picture it clearly, see Lottie get wrapped up in things that are too big for her own mind, and shut out the natural world. Still, even the memory of that kind of fervor, that kind of intensity, is enough to make Misty remember the feeling of dirt on her knees, an offering tray in her hands.

“Yeah,” Misty agrees instead, and tries to reel herself back in by her connection to Natalie. “So what’s she hiding from you?”

Nat breathes out, long and slow, and pushes her hair away from her face with both hands. It's completely bare for once, no eyeliner, and Misty feels a small tug of a smile that she bites back. “I don’t know. There’s something…off about her.” Nat snorts, realizing what she’s said, and Misty allows her own smile to grow as they share in the joke. “More so than usual. I believe some of what she told me, but I don’t know, it just—feels like there’s more to it.”

Misty nods, and pushes at her glasses. There had always felt like there was more to Lottie, more to her madness and drive than any of them could comprehend. Misty hadn’t needed Lottie’s spiritualism—hadn’t even believed most of it—but the force of it was hard to deny. It was too compelling, following her. Like her presence was so powerful you wanted to trick yourself into seeing what she was seeing.

For a moment, Misty considers asking again what prompted all of this. But for the moment Natalie isn’t trying to put as much distance between their bodies as possible, and Misty doesn’t want to lose that progress. Not for the first time, Natalie reminds her of a wounded animal, ready to lash out when you get too close, no matter your intentions.

So instead, she tries a different angle, hoping she can corner Natalie if she bides her time and watches close enough. “What’s the deal with this ‘treatment’?” She parrots Nat’s air quotations, to show that she is on Natalie’s side; that their beliefs are aligned.

Natalie just shrugs, and drops her head down as she rubs at the back of her neck. “I saw something,” she gives a forceful sigh. “The other night, I had a memory, or something, of paramedics. Like they were bringing me back. One of the times I OD’d, I guess.”

Misty jerks her head back at Natalie’s casual tone, and she sets her hand on Nat’s back. “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Nat bites, fuse suddenly lit and burning. “I’ve been through a lot of shit. It all kind of blends, okay?”

Misty offers her a sympathetic smile, and rubs her hand down Natalie’s back, trying to soothe her. For a moment she thinks it works, and Nat’s stiff back starts to soften under her hand. Natalie’s volatile emotions are simmering right below her surface, and Misty thinks there’s a chance that Natalie might continue. That she might share something deep and painful with Misty.

But Natalie pushes off of the bed and stands instead, walking a few feet away so there is distance between her and Misty on the bed.

Misty drops her hands to her lap.

“Lottie has her own cabin away from everyone,” Nat says, emotion still lingering as she switches gears. “I want to get in there, so I told her I’d let her heal me,” her distaste of the word is clear, “but only where we wouldn’t be bothered.”

Misty looks up at Nat, and pushes her glasses back. The idea of Natalie and Lottie off on their own like that makes her uncomfortable, and nervous. If she’d been worried that Natalie was in danger before she’d known Lottie was connected, she’s pretty terrified now. She’s not exactly sure why; Nat had eventually succumbed to all of it in the Wilderness, but not in the same way as the others. There had always been that barrier between her and the rest, like she had to be the sane one for all of them, and keep them tethered to reality.

Misty thinks she might have been the only one who noticed, while the others were so wrapped up in their own guilt and shame and confusion. Misty hadn’t had to deal with any of that, after all.

Still, confident that Nat can hold her own, Misty doesn’t like the idea of it. Natalie is her best friend. Lottie can’t just swoop in and take over, when Misty has been so painstakingly working at breaking Nat down.

Well. She’ll just have to remind Natalie of how useful she is. “How can I help?”

Natalie stops the lazy pacing she’d been doing, and crosses her legs at the ankle as she sets her fingers on the sharp jut of her hip. “Since Lottie knows you’re here, I want you to get her out of her quarters after we start whatever bullshit therapy thing she has planned. I can go through her rooms and figure out what she’s hiding while you keep her distracted.”

It makes sense. For Natalie, inexperienced sleuth as she is, it’s actually a pretty smart plan.

Misty does not want to do it.

As nervous as she is to have Nat and Lottie off by themselves, the idea of putting herself alone with Lottie seems worse. Just the thought of it is making her fingers itch, her mouth water just a little. Lottie’s compound being out in the middle of the woods was already making her longing for the wilderness sharper than it usually is, and adding Lottie’s magnetism to that just feels reckless.

If she’d been worried of what she could lose back when they were kids, she was terrified to lose what she’s built now; the intense connection she’s formed with Natalie, the most moral of all of them.

She considers getting Walter to come with her, have him serve as a little tether to keep her from becoming totally enraptured by Lottie. But she thinks about how starstruck he’s been just by her, Misty Quigley, and decides that he’d be no match for a woman like Lottie.

I’d just be bringing her a sacrifice, Misty realizes, and feels her heart beat faster, her lips start to twitch into a smile, as pleasure blossoms deep in her belly.

“You think you can handle that?” Nat asks, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head to look down her nose at Misty.

“Of course,” Misty scoffs, trying to quash the way her blood pressure is rising with a long exhale. “Piece of cake.”

“Great,” Nat gives her a tight smile, looking uncomfortable and stiff. The discomfort and the awkward angles of Nat’s body are so suddenly familiar in that moment, that Misty starts to shake herself free out of her thoughts on Lottie, on her growing hunger.

Instead, she lets herself just look at Natalie, and realize that Natalie’s safe, that she hadn’t left Misty, and they’re back together. It feels so right, she thinks; not the constant pressure of Walter beside her or the open chasm of Lottie in front of her.

Being here, with Natalie, it just feels natural. Real, like she isn’t being contained by her skin or pulled from her body. Natalie is oddly comfortable.

“What?” Natalie asks, dropping her arms and taking a small step backwards at the intensity of Misty’s focus.

There is a sudden pressure in her chest, and before she can think through what she’s doing, Misty is up from the bed and pulling Natalie into a crushing hug. It’s one-sided at first, Natalie’s arms hanging limply at her sides as Misty holds her around the waist and buries her nose against the flat of Nat’s shoulder.

But she wants Natalie to hug her back, and so she thinks of Nat’s awkward thanks earlier and turns her head away from Nat’s shoulder enough to say, “I’m so glad you’re safe.” She tilts away from Nat’s chest a little, looking up through her eyelashes. Nat furrows her brow, and jerks her head back a little, but also looks down to meet Misty’s eyes. “I’ve really missed you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her arms slowly wrap around Misty’s back, and when she squeezes, it’s much warmer than Misty was hoping for.

Natalie’s fingers curl over Misty’s narrow shoulders, her long arms more than enough to encompass Misty’s small frame, so Misty turns her nose back into Nat’s sweater and lets out a sigh of relief.

Misty wrings each second of contact she can out of Natalie, and inhales deeply when she finally feels Natalie start to tug Misty away from her body.

Discomfort is clear on Natalie’s face and body when they finally part. Nat pops one leg out like she might sprint in the next second, and her fingers flex where she holds them stiffly at her sides. “I’m gonna,” she gestures toward the door, and then follows her own motion toward it.

“We can walk down together?” Misty offers. “I don’t know where it is.”

“No,” she shakes her head, but turns back at the door. “I’m sure Lottie will send one of her fuckin’...toadies for you and your friend.” She opens the door, and tosses, “See you at dinner,” over her shoulder, her tone softer than usual, before she closes the door behind her.

Lottie does send some of her people to collect her and Walter for dinner. Nat must have already left, since she doesn’t respond when Misty knocks on her door to see if she’s changed her mind and will walk down with them.

So Misty walks next to Walter, behind two more people in the lavender purple clothes. They pass a few dozen more people in that color heading in the same direction—it’s strange, but then again quite a bit about this whole situation is strange.

Beside her, Walter is looking around the building they’re in with wide, investigative eyes. Under different circumstances she would be right there with him, but with Lottie being at the root of all of this, there really aren’t any more answers needed.

Their guide leads them through the building, and outdoors to a massive banquet table. It’s just sunset, and the dark is growing rapidly. Twinkle lights are strung around the table, and between posts that border the space, providing more and more of the light in the area.

The table is laden with bowls of freshly roasted vegetables, baked bread, and roasted chicken. Bottles of wine with homemade labels bearing Lottie’s name and the symbol are peppered around the food.

Lottie’s followers take turns passing food and pouring wine. They are all in that same lavender shade, most of them head-to-toe. Misty wears a cream-colored long-sleeve shirt with tiny teddy bears on it, and jeans. Despite the simplicity of her outfit she can’t help but feel like she stands out in the sea of purple.

Misty scans the table in search of Nat, but finds Lottie first. Still draped in golden yellow fabric, she is hard to miss at the far head of the table. She leans against the high-backed wooden chair like it is a throne, as she speaks with her followers when they come near. Misty finds it difficult to look away.

When she does, her eyes settle on the figure a seat down from Lottie, with dark hair and that same black woolen sweater. Misty feels some of the tension in her stomach ease as she watches Natalie stare down at her plate, ignoring Lottie beside her.

“Over here,” Misty gestures for Walter to follow her, and she makes a beeline for the open seats closest to Natalie. They’re three down and on the opposite side of the table, but it’s good enough. Misty shuffles into the space, and glances at Walter out of the corner of her eye to see that he is sitting down beside her.

Once settled, Misty turns her attention back to Natalie. She’s still staring down at an empty plate, but from this angle Misty can see that her back is all the way against the chair behind her, like she’s pushing against it, and her fingers are fidgeting with the linen napkin under her plate. Every few moments, she turns her head to the right, just enough to look at Lottie.

“I did as much digging as I could do on my phone,” Walter whispers, leaning down into her space, “and I think—”

“Not here,” Misty hisses, eyes wide as she shakes her head. His persistence is irritating, and she resents that he’s drawing her tension away from her priority right now.

When Misty looks back at Natalie, Natalie is looking right back at her. Nat’s posture has relaxed a little, she doesn’t seem quite as stiff in her chair as she had a minute ago. Her fingers are still playing with her napkin, but they too seem to be slower, more purposeful movements instead of the picking it looked like she had been doing.

Misty naturally smiles at seeing Nat look her way, and then ducks her head a little as she adjusts her glasses. Her own eyes dart to the left to look at Lottie, just as Natalie had been doing, but Lottie isn’t paying her any attention. It’s unexpectedly disappointing to not have Lottie looking back at her. It feels like looking into darkness, searching for a glimmer of light, but finding none.

When she looks back at Natalie, Nat’s expression has hardened a little, and there is a tension in her frame again.

It feels even more disappointing, though this one doesn’t feel like a surprise.

But Natalie is still looking at her, and so Misty smiles at her again, until one of the followers leans over to pour Natalie some wine, cutting off their line of sight.

When they leave again the moment is gone, but Misty tries to recapture it; she tries to catch Natalie’s eyes again between bowls being passed and the growing shadows of Lottie’s followers moving around them.

She doesn’t succeed.

Instead, the followers start to settle and take their seats, and the clattering of wooden bowls and spoons quiets. Misty looks over at Lottie, and this time she is looking right at her, smiling. Misty can’t help the breathy gasp of surprise she makes, having forgotten just how intense Lottie’s attention could feel.

Misty is looking into the darkness, deep and vast, and she sees the faintest shine of light as her vision doubles, and she needs to close her eyes to blink it all away.

“Some of you may have noticed that another of my friends has joined us,” Lottie addresses the long table. The few remaining noises cease when she begins talking, and Misty can feel a hundred eyes on her as Lottie stands and gestures to Misty. “This is Misty,” she says, her voice that clear, confident tone that stretches beyond normal range, and Misty feels her cheeks warm. Her heart starts to beat a little faster, and it’s like she’s up on that makeshift stage in the cabin so many years ago.

“Please,” she continues, giving Misty a warm smile, “I ask you all to help her with whatever she needs, and welcome her as you have done Natalie.” Lottie sets her hand down on Natalie’s shoulder and shifts her gaze to Nat. Natalie offers a tight and crooked smile to the followers sitting closest to her, before looking back up at Lottie, smile turning upward just enough to be more of a sneer.

Lottie’s followers snap and clink their glasses in welcome, before they quiet back down and set their wine glasses aside. In an almost synchronized fashion they each hold out their hands at their sides above the table, and begin to clasp palms. The chain works its way down to Natalie, who very slowly obliges.

Misty does the same, but her breath feels shallow.

“To the spirit of the creatures,” Misty’s breath catches, as Lottie’s voice is joined by Misty’s memory of it years ago, “who sacrifice so that we may grow, we give our thanks.”

“Thank you,” the followers respond.

Misty’s eyes shoot across the table to Natalie, and she is looking right back, features intense, and lips pressed tight in silence.

“To the ancient gods of the sky, and of the dirt, we give our thanks.”

Misty’s palms are sweaty, and she flexes her fingers against the hands she holds in each of her own. The chicken on her plate begins to smell stronger, darker. She can taste ash on her tongue, smell iron in the air, and Misty rolls her tongue over the roof of her mouth to try and prolong the memory.

“Thank you,” the crowd replies.

Natalie’s lips stay pressed together, and Misty wonders if her mouth tastes of the wilderness, too.

The followers begin to let go of each other’s hands, and Misty does the same, still holding Nat’s eyes. Nat looks so much like her seventeen-year-old self in this moment, lost but determined, and Misty suddenly mourns how little she really knew Natalie back then. Not that Natalie would have wanted, or even tolerated her attention if she’d tried a little harder to give it.

With the prayer finished, dinner begins. The table is full of people, and gentle conversation rolls endlessly over potatoes and chicken and wine. Misty engages when prompted, but she knows she is distracted, and more awkward than usual. She can’t help it; there are two different atmospheres in this space, and she is stuck in the one that exists between her and Lottie and Natalie, and the most primal memories of her life.

“I trust the two of you will be staying for the night,” Lottie asks Misty, as dinner starts to near its end.

“That would be much appreciated, thank you,” Walter answers, and Misty can see how thrilled he is to be in the center of what he sees as a mystery. “Though I should retrieve our suitcases from the car,” he nods his head at Misty.

“I’m sure we can have someone help you with that.” Lottie smiles at one of the women in purple, near her. “Trinity?” she prompts, and the other woman beams. “Take Walter’s keys and bring the car up to the lot. And his things to his room.”

Walter looks like he’s about to argue, but Misty widens her eyes and shakes her head, just enough to communicate that he shouldn’t reject what she offers. The best thing Misty can do for him now that he’s here is to keep him off Lottie’s radar.

“Lovely,” Lottie smiles at the acceptance in his silence, and angles her body toward Natalie. “Shall we?”

Natalie gives her a tight smile, and stands slowly, watching her. When Lottie turns, Nat looks back at Misty. Her eyes are as dark as they can be without her usual kohl, and Misty feels a shiver run up her spine. Natalie wants Misty to follow her, to watch out for her and help her, and it feels so good.

Misty nods, and watches Natalie leave with wide eyes. “Let’s take a walk,” she says to Walter, eyes still on Natalie as she falls into step just behind Lottie. Misty isn’t sure where Lottie’s quarters are, and she doubts that she can casually ask any of the followers without raising suspicion.

“Oh, sure!” Walter pushes away from the table, and starts to follow Misty as she walks quickly, but casually, in the direction Nat and Lottie have gone. After a few steps, Nat looks back over her shoulder, until she sees Misty, and then looks forward again as Lottie talks to her, hands waving in that commanding yet easy manner she has.

“Alright, now that we’re alone,” Walter starts, keeping his voice low, “I can tell you what I found. I couldn’t utilize my skills all that well on just my phone, but I was able to get into some of the less protected servers connected on the wireless network around here. Nothing too juicy, but there were some of the financial records for this compound.”

Misty continues to lead them across the wide campus, keeping about a hundred feet between them and Natalie. “Uh huh,” she contributes, her eyes not wavering from her targets.

“There isn’t a whole lot of money coming into this place, though that’s not particularly surprising for a wellness center. It seems like most of the money comes from individuals who are being treated here. Also not surprising. But there was one rather large contribution.” His tone is growing more and more excited, and Misty knows he wants her to pay more attention to him. But Natalie and Lottie are slowing as they near a larger cabin tucked away from the main buildings.

The sky is fully dark now, the only light coming from the lantern posts all around the paths, and nets of twinkle lights strewn between higher posts and trees, like stars. The entrance to Lottie’s cabin is heavily shadowed, and Misty starts to still, trying to find light through the darkness, as Lottie opens her door and ushers Natalie inside.

“A deposit from ‘Air Flex Global’ in the amount of five million dollars.”

Misty watches to see if Natalie or Lottie will come back out, but the door stays shut. After a few seconds, she processes Walter’s comment, and waves him off. “AFG was the private airline we flew on. We all received a settlement.” When there is no further movement from Lottie’s front door, Misty turns to look at Walter.

He looks very pleased with himself, as he holds up one finger, like he was waiting for her to look. “This deposit was made just two weeks ago.” Misty does feel her attention shift to Walter at that, and his smile grows at her interest. “Would you care to help me follow a theory? I have a travel corkboard in the car, index cards, and multicolored thumb tacks,” he offers, and Misty is pretty sure he’s trying to entice her with the way he lingers on the words.

Misty offers him a tight smile as she prepares to turn him down. “Your expertise is essential,” he interrupts. “I’m not sure I can crack this one without you.” His smile turns sheepish, and he blinks at her with his wide eyes.

For a second, Misty considers agreeing. The novelty of his interest hasn’t quite worn off, it seems, perhaps looking more appealing in comparison to Natalie’s confusing hot-and-cold responses. At the same time, his interest leaves a bad taste in her mouth that she can’t quite pinpoint, but her lips curl with the sourness of it.

Misty narrows her eyes a little, trying to figure out why he’s so off-putting to her like this. When she should otherwise be so flattered by such genuine, open admiration; she doesn’t need to do a thing, doesn’t need to try at all, and he’d leap to be with her.

“Oh,” Misty breathes, eyes widening, and she takes a reflexive step backwards.

He’s her. Walter reminds her of Crystal. His open interest reminds her of the way she’d felt when Crystal had so unexpectedly shown her the same so many years ago. Crystal, who had seen just how big of a freak and outcast Misty had been, and had pushed to be her friend anyway. Walter’s desire for Misty’s attention is Crystal’s desire for her attention—the same packaged flattery and kindness and encouragement, but the wrapping paper that ties it all together is new.

Misty never felt guilt over Crystal’s death, but she had felt a deep sense of grief and loss. Of course, she’d also felt a sick thrill of relief about it, too. And power. Crystal had been a connection when Misty had none, but her chattiness, her eagerness, her willingness to let everyone push her away and still come back had also felt too familiar.

Misty had enjoyed her companionship, but the longer they spent together, the more Misty started to see the worst parts of herself in the other girl. The parts that talked when she wanted to be quiet and forgave when she wanted to hold a grudge. Misty hates those parts as much as anyone. Killing Crystal had been like killing the worst parts of herself; the parts that were so intrinsic that if she cut them off of her own being there would be nothing left.

“‘Oh,’ you’ll help?” Walter prompts, and Misty’s skin starts to itch. He’s her, Crystal, and her, Misty, and Misty’s tongue starts to taste of ash and wine once more. Her fingers twitch, and she imagines cutting Walter away from her, until her lips are stained with blood.

It would be easy. That’s part of the issue, isn’t it? He’s so trusting and persistent and eager to be around her, that it’s no challenge. There’s no sense of accomplishment for her, no matter what she does. There’s no chase. Nothing about Walter that makes her feel free, makes her feel dangerous or powerful or in control. Those wide eyes have never looked at her in terror and awe, and that’s what’s missing.

Crystal had looked at her like that, but only once.

Misty takes a slow breath, realizing just how quick her heartbeat had grown. “I need to take care of something. Of Natalie. She asked for my help,” Misty clarifies, and even though she’s realized how little Walter can mean to her, she still wants him to know she’s desired and chosen.

“Of course,” Walter holds his hands up. “You’re here for her, after all. I can get started, and you can join me later. Unless you need help?” he offers, hopeful.

“No,” Misty says quickly. “Thank you,” she adds, and gives him a small smile to cut him off before he persists further; Misty would. “Do you remember the way back?”

He tilts his head and smiles smugly, “I’ve been filing each inch of this place away,” he taps at his temple, like Misty should be impressed. “I can put together a quick map, if you’d like, and text it to you.”

“Sure,” Misty says, throwing him a bone as she realizes that Nat has been with Lottie for several minutes now. She needs to get in there. “We’ll talk later,” she dismisses him, and he nods once. He stays there for several seconds longer than she’d like, just looking at her, before he finally turns and heads back toward their rooms.

Alone, Misty breathes out a quick huff, and closes her eyes as she refocuses on what’s important: Natalie.

First, she glances around the area. There are a few people drifting this way from dinner, but for the most part no one seems to be paying attention to her. Which is good, for now, though part of her plan will require a bit of an audience.

Misty narrows her eyes and taps her teeth together in thought, before turning around and walking in the direction she came. She scans a few groups of two heading in her direction, before she settles on a group of three. Misty takes a slow breath in, and then a slow breath out, and starts to let memories of hurt and rejection bubble up. It’s not difficult; they are always right there beneath the surface.

She can feel tears starting to sting at her eyes, and she lets the pressure build. She takes short, shallow breaths, and she starts to take jerky steps toward the group she has targeted. “Can you tell me how to find Lottie?” she asks as she nears, wrapping her arms around herself, and trying to look smaller. “I really need to speak with her.”

The three look between themselves, before one woman steps forward and sets a hand on Misty’s shoulder. “Charlotte’s busy right now. I can let her know you’re looking for her when I see her, though.” Her smile is kind, and too helpful, and Misty imagines that Natalie has sneered at her many times over the past several days.

It almost makes her smile, but she remembers to hold her frown. “Please, this is important.” Misty widens her eyes, and furrows her brow. “I’m her friend, Misty? She pointed me out at dinner.” There is a little recognition, but none of them are budging, and Misty really needs to speed this along. “She said you were all supposed to help me with anything I need.”

Another woman steps forward, and cups Misty’s shoulder blade. “Sure, I can take you to her.” She starts to guide Misty back towards Lottie’s quarters, but the other two hang back. Misty wrings her hands and pretends to be upset—the occasional sniffle, and embarrassed smile—until they’re about a hundred feet back from Lottie’s front door.

“Oh,” Misty covers her mouth as she pretends to smother a sob. “Can you go get her? I’d like to try to collect myself.” The woman nods, and heads up towards Lottie’s house as Misty hangs back. She keeps her face covered for appearances, and waits.

She isn’t sure if Lottie would invite her in with Natalie already there, but she knows better than to try. There’s always a part of her that will leap to say yes to Lottie, and she can’t afford to screw up Natalie’s plan. Misty needs Natalie to know she can count on her for anything.

Lottie appears in her doorway, and the lights are dim behind her. Misty doesn’t like that at all. But the woman who’d helped her turns and points, and Misty looks down at the dirt, and toes it with her sneaker.

The darkness provides plenty of cover for Misty to watch through her eyelashes as the woman heads away from Lottie’s quarters, and back toward her friends. She starts to wave at Misty, but drops her hand prematurely; she must think Misty can’t see. Perfect.

And then Lottie leaves her small deck, after shutting her front door behind her. Bingo. Misty smiles to herself, letting it linger in the darkness, before she starts to pull herself together. The fake tears are gone; Lottie would see through them in an instant. Instead, Misty lets another emotion bubble up, this one just as close to the surface: longing.

“Misty,” Lottie greets, and Misty raises her head up to look at the other woman. She’s still wearing that golden dress, but the shawl she wears now is black with tiny golden stars peppering the fabric.

It’s embarrassing, that she’s just as captivated now as she’d been a few hours ago. As she’d been twenty-five years ago.

“Lottie,” she nods, and feels a thrill at using the other woman’s nickname. She feels special, privileged, compared to the hundreds of people roaming the compound, calling her Charlotte. They may be with Lottie now, but no relationship here can ever compare to what they’d had—what they’d all had—in the wilderness.

“You know I was with Natalie.”

“Yes,” Misty doesn’t try to conceal or twist her actions. Lottie always knows. “I wanted to see you.” And it’s the truth, if not all of it. “Could we go for a walk?” She looks out towards the tree line surrounding Lottie’s house.

Lottie takes a step closer to Misty, until they are only a few inches apart, looking down at Misty from her height. But it doesn’t feel condescending, or suspicious; Lottie’s tall frame and flowing shawl just makes Misty feel safe, and warm, like she’s being cocooned.

Lottie raises her hand up slowly, long fingers curled delicately into her palm, and places the flat of her thumb nail under Misty’s chin. She doesn’t put pressure, or make Misty tilt her neck farther. Instead, she just holds it there, while she considers Misty.

It feels so familiar all of a sudden, and Misty’s breath catches. There has always been too much weight to Lottie’s gaze, like she was seeing into you and through you all at once. “Those aren’t the woods for you,” she finally answers, and brushes her knuckles over Misty’s jaw before she drops her hand. “This way,” she murmurs, and begins to walk away toward a gentle hill that leads down toward the beach.

Misty follows, surprised at how easy it was to pull Lottie away. But not, at the same time—of all the girls, Lottie has always been the most difficult to predict. Apparently, that hasn’t changed.

The night is quiet and still as she follows Lottie from the grass onto the sand. Lottie’s movements are as graceful as ever, her simple sandals not stuttering in the sand at all, while Misty struggles not to step into every shifting pocket.

Lottie continues toward the water, her footprints starting to get deeper in the damp sand, but her long skirt dragging behind her nearly erasing each imprint just as quickly. The water is mostly still, just small ripples on its surface from the gentle breeze, and Lottie moves closer and closer to the edge of it. For a moment, Misty thinks she might just walk straight in—it wouldn’t be the first time Misty has watched her do just that.

Instead, Lottie stops about two feet from the tiny lapping line of water, and holds her hands out to her sides as she looks up at the moon. It’s waning, and clouds block out most of its glow, but it still illuminates Lottie enough for Misty to see her clearly.

Misty moves closer, until she can see Lottie’s profile, and the easy smile she is wearing. The breeze blows her hair back from her face gently, and her flowing dress and shawl ripple out behind her in rhythmic waves, almost as though she is an extension of the water that doesn’t quite touch her feet.

Lottie is so in her element like this, that Misty can’t help but be utterly mesmerized by her.

After a moment, Lottie turns to face Misty, the breeze now blowing strands of her dark hair flicking in Misty’s direction. Misty watches her dark locks dance for a moment, like shadows around a campfire, before she meets Lottie’s warm, understanding eyes.

“Why did you kidnap Natalie?” It isn’t what she intends to say—isn’t the carefully crafted reason she’d planned to give to capture Lottie’s attention. But it doesn’t make any sense, not when she looks at Lottie like this. Misty has seen her cruel and cutting in the most vicious moments of their rituals, but it had always been frenzied and unlike her usual demeanor; a maenad serving Bacchus, blood-red wine pouring down her cheeks.

Lottie like this is the fawn to be sacrificed, not the hunter wielding the knife.

“That’s an ugly word,” Lottie says, and Misty agrees. It doesn’t fit her. Misty doesn’t budge, or back down, though, and Lottie sighs, breath carried through her lips on a gentle breeze. “That’s not my story to tell. Surely, you would rather hear it from Natalie, anyway.”

Misty would, of course. She looks at Lottie in the moonlight and she feels so small. Misty has ideas on how to reach Natalie, lists of ways in which she can push and prod and wear Nat down. But everything she’s thought of feels inadequate next to Lottie, who seems to know everything. Seems to know each right choice to make.

“How?” she asks, embarrassed how lost she sounds. She shouldn’t need a guide, but Lottie has always been the most appealing one.

“Give her time,” Lottie says, and disappointment settles in Misty’s stomach. Lottie’s patience was unfaltering. It’s not what Misty wants to hear, but she nods anyway, and pushes her glasses back up. Lottie smiles, and it feels like approval, familiar and heady.

A strong breeze kicks up and the scent of the lake drifts between them, winds around them like gentle memories from their most brutal time together. Misty closes her eyes, and breathes it in. She can feel her lips grow into a true smile, and she should feel exposed being so open in front of Lottie, but she never is.

“You miss it,” Lottie says, and Misty’s eyes snap open. The words are an accusation—no matter how right they may be—and Misty knows exactly what Lottie means. She swallows, uncomfortable, and tries to decide if she should refute them.

But Lottie’s smile is knowing, and non-judgemental. She’s standing with her hands clasped in front of her, but her hand is on Misty’s back, giving her a gentle push down that dark, dark trail.

She does. Misty misses the wilderness more than anything. The smell of it, the quiet, the danger and hopelessness and confinement. She had truly been in her element there, and she wonders if Lottie had seen that, too.

“I miss it,” Misty tests aloud, eyes widening at her own words. She has never said that to anyone, not in twenty-five years. No one who wasn’t with them could ever understand, and Misty has been cut off from her team for that long. And when she was finally reunited, it was clear that none of them could handle hearing such a sentiment. Even though Misty suspects that deep down, they all do.

Especially Natalie, though she’s smart enough to know Nat would rather eat glass than admit something so shameful.

Lottie is the exception. She is so clearly at peace like this, living in this warped recreation of their time in the wilderness. The environment, the prayers, the treatments and uniforms and the seat at the head of that feast.

It had all made Misty’s blood burn, hot with memories she should want to forget, not wrap herself into and never leave.

“I miss the wilderness,” Misty repeats, more confidently. This isn’t a realization; she’s known this ever since they came back. But her relationship with the other women has always been so tenuous—even Lottie who seems to already know everything she is told—that she hesitates, terrified to blow it all up.

Lottie smiles, and gestures out at her camp. “It’s all around you,” she croons, before stepping closer to Misty. “And it’s a part of you,” she steps forward, and sets a hand over Misty’s heart.

Misty could do without this part. Lottie may be more open-minded about everything they did, but it was always wrapped in fortunes and treated as big truths. It had been necessary when they were with the others, the ones who needed something bigger to believe in, and something spiritual to cling to.

Misty has never been like that.

It’s frustrating, the way that Lottie only half sees her, but the half she does see is so refreshing, so liberating, that Misty takes a slow breath, and tries to clarify. “I miss what it was like. What we did. What we were all like, together.” Misty searches Lottie’s face, trying to peek past the bohemian aura that has only grown around her the past few decades. She had been confident before she opened her mouth that Lottie would understand, but would she?

The earth mother persona does fracture, just for the tiniest second, and Misty sees Lottie as she was in those first few days after the crash: lost, overwhelmed, frightened.

And then her body relaxes, and she looks past Misty to the compound. She smiles, clean and bright, and drops her hand from Misty’s heart to settle her palms on Misty’s shoulders instead. Misty’s words haven’t broken anything, and she feels that same sense of acceptance she had back in the wilderness. Back when Misty was first feeling like she was a part of something with Lottie and the others.

“You could stay here with us,” Lottie suggests, and her face is open and kind like she genuinely wants that. “We have plenty of room. We all work together out here, we pitch in where we can. We’re like a family,” her smile is serene, her eyes focused on Misty, but unseeing.

Misty has seen a few hours of what life would look like out here, and she understands what Lottie is saying. She can see, from the outside, how all of this could be so appealing to Lottie—her little wellness retreat is a decent recreation of the family they’d forged over nineteen of the most intense months of their lives.

But it’s just a family, not their family.

And that was always the half that Lottie didn’t see about Misty, maybe about any of them. Lottie’s sight was so big and general, she saw so much of the forest that she didn’t seem to be able to see the trees.

To Lottie, Misty was just one of them. When she was younger, that’s what she had thought she wanted; to be accepted, to be part of the team, and not just watching from the sidelines. After the crash, it had been so welcome. It had felt like her wish was finally coming true.

But now it’s not enough. Misty doesn’t just want to be accepted, she wants to be chosen. While her team had all fractured and left her alone for two decades, Misty had learned what she wanted was the victory of a challenge.

She wants to be seen for her and she wants to be chosen in spite of it all. She wants to be so terrible, but so good and crafty and clever that she can manipulate anyone into choosing her anyway.

She wants the security of knowing she can keep anyone from leaving her, if she’s clever enough.

Perhaps that’s why she misses the wilderness so desperately. She wants to do it all again, but right this time, knowing what she knows now. She can do it better, bond tighter, hit harder. Make her friends all see who she really is in the beginning, and then spend her time making them love her anyway. Making sure they won’t leave her once they’re back.

“Mmm,” Lottie hums, and when Misty refocuses on her face she is smiling one of her knowing smiles. She rubs the curve of Misty’s shoulders with her thumbs, soft and soothing, and any trace of Misty’s frustration with Lottie not seeing her melts away.

She’d always been so good at that. Just another of her gifts.

“You’re cold,” Lottie says, and Misty hadn’t felt cold but Lottie is never wrong. Her body shivers. Lottie slides her shawl off of her own shoulders, and drapes it over Misty’s. It’s large, and silk, and not very warm. But it feels heavier than its material, and when it settles around Misty’s neck she can almost smell the forest on its fibers.

“I should get back to Natalie,” Lottie says, watching Misty’s face, and lowers her hands from Misty’s arms down to clasp in front of her.

Misty isn’t sure how long she’d bought Nat, but she hopes it was enough because, “Yeah,” escapes her without thought.

Their conversation isn’t really over—right?—but Lottie seems to have gotten something out of it, as she smiles serenely and starts to walk back toward her quarters.

Misty stares for a moment, a little dumbfounded like she always is after being the focus of Lottie’s attention. There is something so powerful and raw about her, in even the most innocuous of exchanges.

Misty is not surprised that Lottie has created what she has here. If anything, she’s surprised it’s still so small.

Lottie crests the small hill and disappears out of view, so Misty starts to follow, far enough back that she hopes Lottie assumes she’s headed back to her room. There’s no good way to alert Natalie to the fact that Lottie is coming back, so instead she just creeps along the tree line, hoping Lottie’s dark shawl will help her blend in as she watches Lottie’s front door.

There aren’t many people around again, fortunately, but Misty keeps low as she inches as close as she dares toward Lottie’s house. She watches Lottie open the door and enter, before shutting it again. Misty listens for shouting, or screaming, or anything else of concern, but hears nothing.

Minutes pass and the door stays shut.

Misty sits down on the hard ground.

She leans back against a tree, and rolls her head to the side to keep watching Lottie’s door.

Misty plucks at the grass around her.

She tries to stay vigilant, though the weight of Lottie’s wrap is comforting, and the adrenaline from rushing to find Natalie is finally gone.

Her eyes are starting to droop when she finally catches movement. The door opens, and Natalie steps out first, back curved in a lazy slump, and her fingers deep in the pockets of the sweater, tugging it down with the force. She kicks her feet out moodily as she steps away from the door, and Lottie follows her out enough to lean against her door frame.

Misty can’t hear what they’re saying, but Natalie looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. Though, when Lottie rests her hand on Nat’s upper arm, Natalie doesn’t pull away. She just looks down at the contact.

It makes Misty itch, and she starts to get up from where she’s seated cross-legged against a tree. She keeps her movements small and slow, even though it's only grown darker since the beach, the moon tucked even further behind the clouds. Misty is confident that the trees provide generous cover for her, but she doesn’t dare raise herself up past her knees as she watches Natalie finally pull away from Lottie and walk down her porch steps with heavy, petulant stomps.

Lottie watches Natalie leave, and then turns directly toward Misty. Her heart starts to pound, feeling caught, despite the distance and darkness between them. There’s no way that Lottie can actually see her, right?

Still, she slinks down, sitting on her heels, until Lottie goes back inside and shuts her door. Misty shifts her attention over to Natalie, a hundred feet ahead, moving in the direction of their rooms. She waits a few moments, just watching her move. Even alone, in the dark, dressed down in a sweater and softened by her stay with Lottie, she radiates raw energy.

Misty starts to follow. She doesn’t mean to keep her distance, it’s not a conscious thought, but she does. Natalie’s pace is uneven and there’s no discernible rhythm to how she moves, but she doesn’t stop or turn around, and Misty can’t help but want to just watch her.

She’s such a contradiction now, from the girl Misty barely knew in the wilderness. They hadn’t been close in any typical terms—she hadn’t been close with anyone besides Crystal, really—but she had known parts of Natalie deeper than would be possible in normal circumstances. She knew Nat’s loyalty, and her need to protect their family. She knew Natalie’s heart, and her guilt; no one could avoid knowing Natalie’s guilt.

In those terms, Misty has always thought of Natalie as stable. She’d been a constant for them in the wilderness, dependable and strong, like the trees.

Misty can’t think of her like that anymore. At least, not entirely. Since the wilderness, Natalie’s best qualities had hardened, grown twisted. Her loyalty became dependency, her protectiveness turned ruthless. Misty wonders if it all grew from the guilt, like a fungus that infected the roots of a tree, growing and festering until the trunk itself started to show its desecration.

Not that the cause matters, really. Misty just knows that she likes it. Likes Natalie like this, darker and lost. It feels familiar, like their home in the wilderness, a too-small cabin that reeked of dried meat and wet moss.

Oh.

Oh.

Natalie is the wilderness, isn’t she?

Misty’s feet stutter, and she stills where she is in the middle of the path back. Natalie doesn’t stop, just keeps moving in that same incomprehensible stagger.

Natalie, as she knows her now, is nothing but sharp edges and pain and unpredictable reactions that range from sickly sweet to downright cruel. She can vacillate from calm and comforting to dangerous and haunting in the blink of an eye. Nat is the harshest winter and the tallest oak, a calm lake and a roaring fire all at once.

She is the best of the wilderness and the worst of the wilderness, but Misty had loved it all. She misses it all, the ugliest moments most of all, and as Misty watches Natalie nearly encompassed by the darkness, she decides she will not lose it again.

Misty picks up her speed, taking longer steps than are comfortable as she tries to bridge the gap between her and Natalie.

It’s not working well, even with Natalie’s swaying steps, and Natalie is already moving inside the building before Misty has caught up. They’re closer now, and Misty catches sight of Nat as she rounds the corner down their hallway.

When she makes it around the corner, Natalie is near the door to her room, and Misty’s breath catches as she wonders if Nat is planning to seek Misty out. If perhaps she’s been as anxious to return to Misty as Misty has been to return to her.

Natalie hesitates at her door, and Misty’s heart begins to beat harder. But then Nat turns back toward her own door, and opens it. Misty ducks her head back so she isn’t seen, and breathes out a small huff of disappointment.

It’s fine. If Nat doesn’t care about her that way yet, Misty will make her.

Misty waits a few seconds, and calms her breathing before she rounds the corner and knocks on Nat’s door, instead of barging in like she would rather. The door opens after a few seconds, and Nat peeks out, before swinging the door wide in a gesture for Misty to enter.

She does, and she can’t help but side-step her way in, so she can look at Natalie just a little bit more. Her posture is still tired, and her eyes look unusually pale, though Misty figures that might be the lack of eyeliner more than anything.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Nat asks, and her voice is anything but tired. In fact, it sounds like a livewire, like Natalie’s energy has gathered deep in her throat. “Is that Lottie’s?”

“I was cold,” she shrugs, though she’d honestly forgotten she’d had it on.

“Yeah,” Nat snorts, disbelief thick in the sound.

Misty doesn’t like how the noise feels on her skin, so she slides the shawl off, and drops it down on the bed. “Did you find anything? I tried to keep her out as long as possible, but you know how Lottie is,” she giggles, and smiles at Nat in the shared joke. “Once she decides something is over…” Misty pushes her glasses up, and tilts her head.

“Yeah,” Nat says again, though this one is softer. Misty smiles at the improvement. Natalie sits down at the edge of the bed, and flops over on one side. Her hair follows, and Misty’s smile softens at the casual, comfortable way she is around Misty. “I found some files, but nothing too shocking. And a locked drawer I want to get into, but couldn’t find the key before she came back.”

Misty almost offers Walter’s lockpicking kit, but bites her tongue; Natalie needs to know Misty can help her, if they are ever going to work.

“I’ve got another treatment tomorrow night, so we can figure out what to do before then.” Nat rises up on one elbow, and props her head in her hand.

“Another one?” Misty frowns. She doesn’t like that at all. Now that she and Natalie are back together, they should be back together. They make such a good team. “Should I come with?”

Nat raises an eyebrow and sneers. “How would that fuckin’ work?” She bobs her head and her voice climbs into that sugary sweet pitch that makes Misty feel so foolish. “You think Lottie’s just gonna let you, what, observe? And then sneak off for twenty minutes to rifle through her shit?” Nat flops on her back and chuckles, low but real.

It’s at Misty, so it should hurt, but the sound of it feels too warm, too good. Misty lets herself sink into the cruel rumble of it, like screams echoing along a mountain trail.

“I guess not,” she crosses her arms. Just because it feels good doesn’t mean it can’t also hurt. Misty tries not to wonder if Natalie laughs at Lottie like this. If she looks this relaxed, if she needles at Lottie like she wants her gone but never actually asks her to leave.

“Did—” Misty shifts, wishing she could sit down next to Nat, but she is spread across the length of the bed. “Did they work? The ‘treatments’,” she adds the air quotes again to remind Natalie they are on the same side, united in their skepticism.

“Fuck no,” Nat growls, but her posture stiffens a little, and she covers her face with her hands. She tries to play it like she’s got a headache—Misty has seen that plenty—but Misty is pretty sure she’s lying.

Misty doesn’t like that. They’re best friends, aren’t they past the point of secrets? If Natalie asked her, Misty’s pretty sure she would tell Nat anything she wanted to know. Even the bad stuff. Maybe especially the bad stuff, if Nat wanted to know it.

The question is on the tip of her tongue because she wants Natalie to be truthful to her. About this. About everything. But she bites it back and thinks of Lottie’s patience, her certainty that it will work out.

It doesn’t quite work for Misty, so she spins the idea in her head, twists it like a rubix cube until it works for her better. She can be patient, because the truth will be better later. Once she’s lured Nat in a little more first. Made her care about Misty the way Misty cares about her, so that they both can share without ruining anything.

“Well, whatever you need,” Misty shrugs like it’s not a big deal. Like she’s not dying for Natalie to need her for everything. “I’m your gal!” Her curls bounce as she bobs her head.

“Thanks,” Nat says casually, and drops her hands from her face to rest on either side of her head. “You probably need to get back to Tweedledum, right?”

Misty feels a rising panic at the dismissal, and plants her feet harder into the cabin floor. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she brushes Nat off.

“You sure? You citizen detectives don’t get out much,” she continues, and her tone is flat until it grows light and airy on the last words, like a breeze through snow-covered branches. Nat smiles at her slight, and Misty’s shoulders relax.

“Just to rescue our friends,” she teases back, and when Nat rolls her head to look at Misty her eyes are dark. “Of course, it’s less of a rescue when they refuse to leave.”

Nat props herself up on her elbows, and her hair dangles behind her. Misty wants to run her fingers across it, feel the strands like a waterfall over her skin.

Misty waits for Nat to say something, expects her to when she sits up, but she just stares at Misty for a long moment. There’s fire in her eyes, tension in her frame, and her mouth is turned down into a frown, but when she pushes herself up from the bed it’s smooth and easy, like lapping water.

It makes Misty hungry, greedy for something she cannot have. It makes her long for somewhere she cannot return.

Misty has lost the wilderness, but she will not lose Natalie.

She wants to cut Natalie open, and crawl inside her, and never leave.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Nat’s head jerks back a little, and Misty curses her own forcefulness. That urge to keep picking at what she wants, demanding it when she knows better.

Nat’s easy movement is gone, and she puts a hand back down on the mattress to support her weight. “You’ve got your own room,” she says, voice low, but not quite as irritated as Misty’s heard her. It’s a start.

“I just—” Misty wrings her hands together, and looks down at the floor. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you.” She looks up through her lashes, and bites back a smile at Natalie’s open attention. “I’m not ready to feel that way again.”

Natalie pulls one leg up until she can loop her arm around it, elbow snug around her knee. Her eyes narrow a little, but she isn’t saying no.

“No.”

Well, okay.

Misty lets out a slow, heavy sigh. “I understand.” She wraps her arms around her body, and just looks at Natalie for a moment. Despite her rejection, she isn’t kicking Misty out, nor does she seem particularly bothered by her request.

Emboldened by that realization, Misty angles her head, and gives Nat a crooked smile. “What about a little walk? It’s a beautiful night out. Well, it’s a little cloudy, but the paths are well lit.”

Natalie flexes her foot, socked toes curling into the mattress and back up. It’s unexpectedly cute, and Misty feels her face warm, so she pushes her glasses back up her nose for cover as she waits.

Natalie drops her head to the side until it rests on her shoulder, her hair following the motion and flipping over. Misty watches the strands sway with the movement, and imagines the tips dancing along her skin once more, though this time she feels it on her shoulders, her spine.

“Fine,” Nat finally answers, and slides her way across and off of her bed. “Don’t get too excited, it’s just lots and lots of trees.”

Misty smiles to herself with Nat’s back to her as Nat slips her boots on and opens the door. “Don’t leave that here,” Nat points at the shawl on the bed, and her words could be a friendly reminder, but her tone is a warning. Again, Misty wonders what happened between them tonight.

No, she reminds herself, thinking patience but tasting abide and picks up the shawl before passing by Natalie into the hallway. “Is there somewhere you would like to go? Anywhere I should see?” Misty can’t help but bounce on her heels a little, excited with her small victory to keep Natalie by her side for a while longer.

“I’m not joking, it’s really just fucking trees all around here. Didn’t you see them when you drove up?”

“Well, yes,” she considers. “But, I mean, we’re no strangers to vast wilderness. There’s gotta be variation? Some spots of beauty?” Misty looks up at her hopefully, and Nat looks down where Misty is at her side.

“I guess,” she shrugs. “I was just trying to get the hell out of here the first time I got out of the building, and then Lottie had me on some pretty tight surveillance she thinks I don’t know about for another day or so.”

Misty looks around. “Are they still following you? I didn’t notice anybody.”

“No,” Nat says too evenly, and Misty isn’t sure what she’s hiding. But her lips twitch into a small smile, and Misty thinks she might have an inkling of how Nat scared them off. Misty smiles back at her, a little awed and a little scared; the perfect combination.

Nat reaches the door to the outside and tugs on it, holding it open for Misty to step through. “Thank you,” she beams at the gesture, and waits for Natalie to fall back into step with her.

Once she does, Misty looks up at her and smiles, and tries not to make a big deal of it when Nat looks down and doesn’t sneer. “Where are we going?” Misty asks, looking out at the wide expanse of the campus, and beyond that the tree lines bordering open space.

“This is your walk,” Nat scoffs, and tugs her sweater around her. It feels cooler than it had been outside, even though she’d barely gone back inside a half hour ago. Misty tugs Lottie’s lended shawl onto her body, not that it provides much warmth. “Well, that’s a look,” Nat says, voice high and airy.

Misty looks down at the silk wrap over her teddy bear shirt, jeans, and sneakers, and adjusts her glasses self-consciously. “Oh!” she makes herself giggle, and plays along. “It is, isn’t it?”

Nat watches her a moment, and then points in a direction Misty hasn’t gone. “This way.” Misty starts to follow, and Nat makes a show of looking her up and down again. “It kind of works for you,” she says. It’s a lie, Misty knows, but Nat is trying to make her feel better and that’s, well. That’s better than a hundred real compliments.

She wants to prolong this moment, pad it as much as possible so she can curl up on it later. So she says, “We match!” and gestures from the black shawl to Nat’s black sweater, also clearly borrowed from Lottie.

“Lovely,” she says dryly, but it makes Misty happy just the same. Nat picks up her speed a little—not enough that Misty can’t keep up, but her steps are slightly longer than they would be naturally.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring any of your things,” Misty offers, searching for ways to pull conversation out of the other woman. “I thought about it—I mean, I would have brought them, but your motel had been completely cleaned out.”

Nat slows her stride enough for Misty to keep a more natural pace with her, and she looks at Misty. It’s intense, and a little disconcerting, but mostly Misty feels a deep warmth at the attention, and stands up a little straighter. “And you didn’t just assume I skipped town?”

I did, at first, Misty thinks, but bites her tongue and smiles instead. She can’t bear the thought of Nat knowing how gullible she was, how easily tricked. How weak, and disloyal of her to think for even a moment that Natalie would do that. Misty has too many flaws, too many reasons to be cut loose from Nat, she doesn’t dare risk giving her this one.

“Of course not,” she says instead, and takes a shuffling side-step to be closer to Natalie. If she asks, she can say it’s for warmth. “I knew something had happened.”

They’re nearing the end of the open space of the compound, and thick trees lie ahead. Misty’s nostrils flare as she gets a thick scent of forest. Those aren’t the woods for you, Misty hears Lottie’s voice, and something tells her these ones are.

Misty steps forward, breaching the tree line, and makes her way into the woods.

“Misty,” Nat warns, but Misty can’t help it. She takes another step, and another, until there are trees all around her. Misty breathes in deeply, smelling pine and dirt and moss.

The air feels crisper here, the sounds of the forest louder and softer at the same time. It’s like Misty has taken a step into another world momentarily, and something in her unravels.

Misty feels different in the woods. More calm, more contained, but the most free she has ever been. Like all of the things she bottles up, all of the self-hatred and frustration and noise that she stuffs down and down and down just leaks out of her and winds through the wind, dancing over roots and branches and leaves.

“The fuck are you doing?” Nat asks as she comes to stand beside her.

Misty exhales, and shrugs. “Going for a walk,” she

“Lottie rubbed off on you fast,” Nat snorts, but puts a palm against the tree closest to her. It’s almost reverent, the way her fingers settle on the bark.

Misty gives her a moment, and then reaches out and takes her free hand, dangling at her side. “C’mon,” she breathes out, and starts to tug Natalie along with her. It’s not hard for the taller woman to keep up, but she doesn’t tug her hand free of Misty’s.

“I have,” Nat says after a while, voice barely audible over the swaying tree branches and twigs snapping beneath their shoes. “In the past. Just left.” She says it like the words pain her, and Misty can’t stop herself from looking at her in open surprise as she slows.

Nat drops her hand, and puts her hand on the side of her neck in discomfort.

The idea that this woman, who has always seemed so cool and confident and secure in who she is, would dislike something about herself—outside of the things she’d done for survival—honestly throws Misty for a loop.

She feels closer to Natalie than she ever has, in that moment. Misty has always wanted to be like Natalie in so many ways, but she never expected that they would share this same sense of self-frustration.

It feels good. Really, really good. It makes Misty feel seen in a way she never did with Walter or Crystal, people too much like her to pick out the parts where they overlapped. Or with Lottie, a woman so mysterious and powerful, trying to be seen by her was like throwing yourself over a cliff and praying for wings to sprout.

“You didn’t, this time.” Misty says, and the words are for Nat, but they’re for herself, too. She can be different, at least here between the trees. She was at her best in the wilderness. She can be at her best with Natalie, too.

Nat doesn’t say anything, but when she starts moving again, her pace is slow enough for Misty to follow at her side.

“Why did Lottie kidnap you?” Misty asks, finally ready to push. She feels closer to Natalie right now than she ever has. There’s a chance Natalie feels the same. That she sees how patient and understanding Misty has been all day.

Nat doesn’t respond. For a moment, Misty assumes she hadn’t heard the question. But Natalie’s shoulders are stiff, and she glances at Misty out of the corner of her eye. She heard.

Misty considers letting it go. Just because she wants to share her secrets with Natalie, doesn’t mean Natalie needs to share hers, too, right?

The wind blows, harder than it has been, and a dozen pine needles break loose from their branches, and shower down around them. “Natalie,” Misty says, her voice as soft as she dares be with Nat. “Stop,” she asks.

Natalie doesn’t stop, but she slows, her steps hiccuping with indecision. “I was pretty messed up after the reunion,” she says, and Misty hurries to fall back into step with her. The ground is becoming steeper, and thick roots wriggle from the earth in unpredictable places. They both slow their ascent, taking care to navigate safely.

“What happened at the reunion?” Misty prompts, trying to hide the hurt she feels that she hadn’t known anything was wrong. She’d noticed that the three girls had all been upset by the tribute to the team—to Jackie—but it was far from the worst reminder they’d all had.

“I saw—There was a display case in the hall, and Travis was—” she shakes her head, and holds out a hand to help Misty over a root she’d just spotted. “I just accepted it, I guess. That we—that I had been fucking wrong.”

“Wrong about…?”

“Him committing suicide.” Nat huffs with frustration, and drops Misty’s hand now that she’d cleared the root.

“But you weren’t.”

“I know!” Nat snaps, and Misty purses her lips together to avoid snapping back. For now. “I—Jesus, I know now, but I didn’t that night.” She continues walking, and Misty falls in step. “I was fucked up, and angry, and betrayed, and I just, wanted it all to stop.” She sounds exhausted all of a sudden, and Misty starts to figure out what she’s saying.

“You were going to use. Or you did. Use.” It’s not a question, and she tries not to sound too critical, though she’s disappointed and hurt. She really had thought that falling on the sword for Nat with the cocaine would be the end of it. It feels naive now, but it hadn’t at the time. Maybe she’d been hoping it would mean more to Natalie, her sacrifice, and the depth of her love.

Natalie stills ahead of her. She’s been avoiding looking at Misty already, but it’s even more obvious now. Misty feels her shoulders slump in disappointment, and frustration with herself. She’d been going for understanding and sympathetic, and it had just come out judgemental.

“It’s okay,” she tries to salvage things. “I mean, I forgive you.” Misty stops, and takes a deep breath. “I don’t mean—” She’s ruining all of this. It feels like trying to help Allie’s broken leg a lifetime ago; she knows all the pieces of what she’s supposed to say and do, but they’re scrambled up in her brain and she can’t see the important details.

Nat turns to look over her shoulder, and another gust of wind knocks a batch of pine needles down around them.

Misty breathes in the thick scent of the forest, and tries to do better. “I’m glad you’re here,” she settles on, and wonders if this is the overdose memory Nat had mentioned earlier. She decides it doesn’t matter. “And you know I didn’t mean what I said that day, with the cocaine.” Nat looks over at her finally. “If you ever need me, or want to talk, I’ll be there.”

Nat looks back ahead, and Misty tries not to take it personally. “I know,” Nat says, and it’s softer than Misty’s ever heard her speak, with none of the sickly sweet tone of ulterior motives or mockery. “Anyway,” her voice sounds more solid and natural. “Lottie had some of her purple fucks watching me, and they…intervened, I guess. Brought me here ‘for my own safety’.”

“She had them watching you? That’s disturbing,” she scoffs. Nat stops walking and turns to look at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“You hid a camera in my motel room for weeks.”

“Yes, but you and I had reconnected. You’d invited me to spend time with you. You haven’t seen Lottie in twenty-five years, right? That’s just…” she waves her hands, searching, “weird.”

“That’s what’s—” Nat starts, and puts her hands up as she shakes her head. Her laugh is a little hysterical when she turns to keep walking, and Misty picks up her pace.

What she did and what Lottie did were night and day, obviously. How did Natalie not see that? “Yes, that’s what’s weird,” Misty finishes her thought. “Does she even know who those people are? It’s not like I had someone else monitoring the footage of—”

“Do you hear that?” Natalie cuts her off, holding a hand up.

“Hear—” she stops herself, and listens.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

“Are those drums?” Misty whispers.

Natalie nods, and rolls her eyes. “Part of Lot’s whole schtick here. There was some kind of fucked up ritual-slash-treatment bullshit the night I tried to escape.”

Misty’s heart starts to beat a little harder. “Ritual? Like our…” she waves her hand between the two of them.

“No. At least not that I’ve seen. It’s…fucked, but not, that. I don’t think.” Disappointment blossoms in Misty’s chest, but she nods like she’s relieved to hear it.

“Should we go check it out?” Misty asks, already taking a step in that direction.

“No fucking way,” Nat snaps, but keeps her voice quiet. “Seeing one old man’s cock was more than enough for me,” Misty’s eyes widen in surprise and disgust (and maybe a little intrigue), but doesn’t take a step closer to the noise. “This way,” Nat gestures farther into the woods, and Misty nods.

She follows Natalie in the opposite direction, but she can still hear the drums.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

“Are they getting louder?” Misty asks, and Natalie just shakes her head, confused. “I thought they were back that way.”

“I don’t know.”

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

They’re moving away from the ritual, she’s certain. But the beat is pounding in her head. She can feel the sound take over her body, feel her own heart stutter and reset until it matches.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

She looks over at Nat, and she’s moving faster, her feet darting over rocks and brush, and when Misty looks down her own feet have started to do the same.

The trees have never felt bigger as she tries to dodge them, weaving between them, and trying to catch sight of Natalie in the darkness, following her own twisting path.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Misty doesn’t know why she’s almost running, she just needs to. Her heart is pounding harder and the drums are beating louder, and when she looks over at Natalie, twenty feet ahead and weaving just as quickly, she just knows she needs to get closer.

So she alters her path, and starts to move at an angle toward Nat. The trees here are thick, and she ends up darting between them, almost hiding as she tries to gain on Natalie.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

The drums are loud, but over them she can hear the snap of a twig, and Nat’s boots shuffle on the ground. Misty’s blood feels hot and thick with the sick familiarity of this chase. These are her woods; she can smell the sourness of fear, and the rich warmth of life. Misty rounds a tree and sees Natalie, just a few feet ahead.

She darts forward and reaches out, grasping the back of Nat’s sweater, and tugs. Natalie stumbles back into her, and then they are both falling, rolling a few feet on the gentle slope of the ground, until Misty has her pinned.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Misty just looks down at her, and listens to the drum beat in time with her body. She feels victorious like this, Nat trapped between her thighs. Their strongest protector at her mercy.

Her smile is boastful, she knows, but she can’t help it, as she puts her hands on Natalie’s biceps and holds her there. “I caught the mouse,” Misty giggles, and feels the giddiness increase as Natalie flexes her arms, but doesn’t struggle.

Instead, she drops her head to the ground, and doesn’t take her eyes off of Misty as she raises her hands to Misty’s waist. Misty can feel the movement under her hands, the way Natalie’s strong arms ripple as her fingers slip beneath Misty’s shirt, and curl over her back. Nat’s thumbs press against the soft rounding of her stomach, and press in, squeezing Misty’s waist, and Nat slides her thighs apart until they are pressing insistently against Misty’s own.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

For long seconds they just exist like that, pressed together here and there, and staring into each other’s eyes while the drums somehow get louder and louder.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

In a flash, Nat has pushed up, using the grip on Misty’s stomach to pull her off and push her back into the ground. Lottie’s borrowed shawl flutters out beneath her as they settle, and the soft fabric is nice on her exposed skin, but does little to cushion her from the hard ground.

Not that any of those trivial things matter, of course. After all, the only fact of importance is that Natalie has her legs pinned by the hips, her knees flat to the earth as Natalie holds her open with her body. Nat holds her waist still, fingers digging into her lower back in a way that makes the pounding drum beat travel down, until it radiates from her center in throbbing bursts.

“I think I did,” Natalie murmurs, a smile on her lips, and her thumbs running around the curve of her navel. Misty reaches up and grabs Nat’s shoulders, and the smile starts to fade. She looks confused, like she’d been somewhere else all of a sudden, and then she starts to pull away. The all too-familiar look of guilt is clear on her face.

So Misty leans up and kisses her.

For all of Nat’s resistance to Misty in general, she’s expecting Natalie to hesitate in kissing her back, especially in this moment. She doesn’t. Instead, she slips a hand along the shawl to cup the back of Misty’s neck and pull her even closer.

Maybe, like with Misty’s secrets, Nat had just been waiting to be asked for this, eager to share the moment she was.

Nat sighs into her mouth, just a soft sound, and Misty pushes at the sweater on Nat’s shoulders. It feels urgent, but her fingers are slow and steady, and Natalie moves the same way as she leans back to strip her sweater off.

“That one, too,” Misty directs, when she sees Nat’s purple cardigan underneath it. “Please,” she adds, breathless, her heart pounding.

“Yeah,” Natalie nods, and pulls the purple sweater over her head.

A breeze picks up, and Natalie shivers when it hits her skin. She’s bare from the waist up, braless, and Misty’s mouth goes dry as she looks at Natalie’s nipples pebbling in the cool air. The wind caresses her body, rustling Nat’s hair slightly, and she shivers again.

Each jostle reminds Misty that she is spread open beneath Nat’s knees. “Nat,” Misty whines, and reaches out to tug her back down on top of Misty’s body. Nat hesitates only a moment before she does, and once her hips are settled between Misty’s, Misty pulls her back in for a kiss.

This one is deeper, desperate, and Misty can feel her blood coursing hot in her veins. Natalie sets one hand on the side of Misty’s neck, and it feels like she tugs Misty closer each time they part and reconnect.

They undress each other, fumbling blindly until they open their eyes and look.

Misty tugs off Natalie’s boots and socks while she toes her own sneakers off. Natalie pulls Misty’s shirt over her head, and then the camisole underneath it. When Nat reaches the bra she sighs, and her irritation at the barrier is flattering so Misty reaches behind herself and unclasps it.

Natalie slides it off, and drops it somewhere near the edge of the shawl, their makeshift mattress.

Misty tugs at Natalie’s leggings once she returns. They’re tight over her shapely legs, which Misty had appreciated right up until she realized she’ll get a better look if she can ever get them off. She finally manages to peel them down, along with Natalie’s underwear, until Nat lies naked where Misty pushes her down. Just like that, she’s sprawled across the floor of the wilderness, all raw power and mystery and confidence.

Natalie stays where Misty has put her, and watches as Misty tugs at her jeans, finally getting them off, along with her socks and underwear.

Their clothes are strewn around them like constellations, and Misty crawls back over Natalie at the center of it all.

Bodies pressed together, slick with sweat, they writhe against one another as the drums beat over and over and over again. Misty slides her hand between them, dipping her fingers between Natalie’s folds until she breaks from their kiss and buries her nose into the hollow of Misty’s throat.

It’s too much, suddenly, everything is building too quickly, and as soon as Misty has the thought the drums calm. They’re still present, but softer, lower. Building, instead of breaking.

So Misty smiles, and follows the noise. She trails her fingers back up Natalie’s center, over the tuft of hair, up over the curve of her belly, and just lets it all build and build and build. Misty’s fingers are curious and hungry, and she leans her head down to bury her nose in Nat’s hair, slightly slick with sweat.

Natalie’s hands follow her lead, stroking along Misty’s legs and hips, over the curve of her ass and the dip and rise of her back. Misty feels adoration in the gentle caresses unlike anything she’s felt before; this isn’t the cloying eagerness of Walter or Crystal, or the blind acceptance of Lottie.

“Look at me,” Misty begs, and she’s ready to tug on Natalie and make her, but she doesn’t need to; Nat tilts her head back and looks up at her. Her face is serious, but her eyes are bright, lips parted with heavy breath.

She looks awed, and a little bit afraid.

A shiver wracks her body, and she drags Natalie up by the back of the neck to sup from her mouth, desperately.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

The drums are pounding again, and Misty feels the glow of imaginary candles burst to life in a circle around them. The shawl grows plush and velvet, and cradles their bodies with the elegant curve of a chaise.

It’s intimately familiar, even though things had never been like this between them, in the woods. It should have been, she thinks, and wonders how much better everything would have been if it had.

But the primal rhythm, the decadence of feeding such a deep, visceral hunger? That they knew.

The drums pound away as Misty palms Natalie’s ribcage, and Nat nips and sucks her way back down Misty’s throat until she can take Misty’s nipple between her teeth.

The thrum grows louder, and faster, and Misty wills it to calm once more. Natalie pushes her back down to the ground, and settles her bare thighs on either side of Misty’s waist. Misty can feel her damp heat against her lower belly, and she rests her hands on Natalie’s thighs.

“Do you still hear them?” Natalie asks, and flips her hair away from her shoulder. She’s breathtaking like this, and Misty has never felt so chosen in her life.

“Do you?” Misty asks, instead of giving her an answer. She’d never been the one who needed the rituals, no matter how much she’d enjoyed them.

Fear flickers across Natalie’s face, and her thighs stiffen, like she’s getting ready to bolt. Misty digs her fingernails into the soft skin there, and Nat hisses, and rolls her hips forward. “Yes,” she hisses, and Misty isn’t sure if it’s encouragement or an answer, so she waits.

Guilt and shame follow the fear, and Misty braces herself to beg, if she needs to. But the drum beat increases, and her shame melts into interest, and open, honest hunger.

Natalie makes her choice then, and the drums restart as she leans down to kiss Misty once more. They’re controlling the drums, Misty knows, now with certainty. And it’s new but it’s the way it’s always been with their rituals; clawing for control and power where they should have none.

Something shifts along the entire length of Natalie’s body as she accepts her own choice to participate. Misty has seen her like this, in the throes of it all. It won’t be pretty later, once the shame corners her in the harsh light of day, but it’ll be different now; Misty is there for her, will do anything to help her through it.

Natalie’s lips leave hers as she trails down Misty’s body, bared to the sparse moonlight. Her mouth is hot and her fingers are a little rough, and it’s everything Misty can want from her wilderness. She tilts her head back and smiles up toward the gods of the sky, giggling at the idea even as she thinks Thank you.

Nat’s tongue is circling her navel when Misty’s giggles bounce down her form, and she pushes herself up on her hands where they bracket Misty’s thighs. She raises an eyebrow at the sound, but she doesn’t look offended, or cruel. She’s smiling too, lips parted enough that Misty can see the tiniest sliver of her upper teeth, and Misty can’t help but giggle again.

“What?” she croaks out, and Misty has never felt Natalie’s voice move along her nerves so instantly.

Natalie’s a skeptic, and Misty’s on her side. But Natalie has chosen to believe tonight, and so Misty spreads her arms out at her sides, gliding over the silk shawl until they are raised above her head. Her palms are open to the sky, and she giggles, “Thank you,” aloud, as she watches Natalie’s reaction.

Her eyes are as dark as they’ve ever been but she laughs like a rumble of thunder, and there is a sparkle of light in the darkness as she breathes out, “You’re crazy.”

This is a Nat that Misty never dreamed she’d see like this, with her. The Natalie that Misty had watched through a hidden camera as she giggled and pounced on Kevyn, relaxed and happy but wild. Natural.

Misty knows with an unshakeable confidence that this is Natalie. That this is the closest Nat will ever come to being every contradictory facet of herself at once, and Misty tilts her head back into the dirt and thanks the gods that she gets to experience it. “Thank you,” she murmurs again, not laughing this time, and Natalie rolls her eyes before she continues her path down Misty’s stomach, lower over her belly until she can part Misty’s folds to the cool air.

The drums beat harder, and Misty feels a flitter of panic that she does actually need to thank the gods. She considers spilling blood, biting into her own flesh until it runs in rivulets down her skin and into the dirt.

But then Natalie’s tongue licks flat along her heated center, and the thought floats on the breeze. Another time, Misty bites her lip at the thought and the way Natalie’s tongue gathers her slick, dancing between her lips.

Misty starts to roll her hips, caught by the beating drums and the incessant pressure of Natalie between her thighs. She’s so caught up in the pleasure building along her body, the heavy pulsating beat, that she nearly misses Nat’s whispered, “Thank you,” against Misty’s thigh.

A new rush of wetness crests out of her at the victory; that Natalie would say it here, for her, and not before.

Nat’s tongue is torture, as she brings Misty higher and higher and then stops, leaning back to look at Misty’s body writhing from the tension.

“Do you want to come?” Nat asks, and it’s the most genuine sounding rhetorical question Misty has ever heard.

Her skin is hot, her face so warm her glasses are fogging at the bottom, and she’s panting obscenely.

And then a cool breeze blows across her body, the kind that dances along your nerves and tickles as much as it itches. Chills run up her arms and over her back, and all she wants is more of this nothing that is making her wet.

“No,” she answers Nat finally, and even in the dim light, Nat’s surprise is visible. “N—not yet,” she corrects, and tugs Natalie toward her by the wrist until she is laying, cradled between Misty’s slick thighs.

“Just—” Misty isn’t sure how to explain what she needs, so she begins trailing her nails over Nat’s waist, down the outside of her thigh, over her lower belly, and up her sternum to the outside of her breasts. Needless movements, almost innocent in their chasteness.

But Natalie’s body explodes with goosebumps wherever Misty barely-touches, and she buries her nose against Misty’s neck. Nat’s lips are parted, tiny breaths puffing out across Misty’s skin, and she raises her own fingers to Misty’s body, copying the feather touch, gentle and fleeting.

Misty ducks her head down and captures Nat’s mouth with her own. The kiss is everything their touches aren’t; long and deep, and purposeful. Misty can feel herself growing slicker, bouncing between the sinking warmth of their deep kisses and riding the edge of the not-enough touches she desired so badly.

It’s not what she wants anymore. The goosebumps have turned into deep itches she is ready to scratch.

“Natalie,” Misty pulls back from Nat’s mouth, and pulls her glasses off, dropping them aside in preparation. She really hopes she doesn’t lose them.

She rolls Natalie onto her back, and preens when she goes willingly. “I want to make you come,” Misty breathes, and Natalie sucks in a breath, and nods, almost hesitant. Misty smiles, and goes to push up glasses that aren’t there.

With a bashful shrug she tries to move past it, but Natalie doesn’t seem to care. Her eyes are dark, but the hazel looks green in the small slivers of moonlight caressing her face. So Misty runs her hands over Nat’s body again, firm but awed, like she hasn’t been touching Natalie’s body nonstop since it was bared to her.

Her lips follow her fingers, and she kisses her way down Natalie’s neck, her sternum, her navel. She trails her fingers over Nat’s arms while she nuzzles her side, and kisses her way across Nat’s small breasts to tug gently at her nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” Natalie groans, her hips shifting on the ground as she winds her hands between Misty’s curls to hold her where she is.

But Misty is impatient, there is too much of Natalie to explore. She continues her way down, leaving her fingers to play with Nat’s nipples as Misty finds her prize. Nat’s scent is intoxicating, and Misty buries her nose in the thatch of hair around her slit. Misty gives Natalie’s nipples gentle tweaks of apology as she abandons them, and instead uses her hands to part Natalie’s thighs, and hold her as open as Nat had left her.

The slick between her thighs glistens in the low light, and Misty rubs it into Natalie’s inner thigh with her thumbs.

“Do you want to come?” Misty repeats Natalie’s question, and Natalie laughs, low and pained.

“Yes,” she sighs.

“Do you want me to make you come?” Misty’s voice catches on this question, a brief bold moment that can ruin everything.

“Fuck,” Nat groans, and presses the heel of her palms into her forehead. “Yes, Misty.”

The drums beat louder, and Misty beams down at Natalie before she spreads Nat open with her fingers and eats Natalie out.

Misty thinks she’s supposed to be tentative at first, supposed to ease Natalie into it, but she’s impatient, and hungry. The feel of Natalie’s velvet lips beneath her tongue is everything she’d imagined it to be, and her slick is the sweetest wine.

And under all of it, Natalie is the wilderness, powerful and unpredictable and cutting and free. Misty needs that, needs her, and she will not let Nat go. Misty has been good and patient and quiet, tucked away in her stable life for twenty-five years.

It is time for her to feast again.

The drums beat louder and louder, but over it Misty can hear Natalie’s low growls, her gasps, her shuddering sighs whenever Misty finds that perfect tempo. Misty tries to hold Nat down as her hips squirm, practically fucking Misty’s mouth, but it’s no use.

So let her.

Misty sits back from Natalie, her body heaving as she pops up on her elbows. “Fuck—why’d you fucking—” she breathes out and her eyes are livid, but Misty just shakes her head.

“No, here,” she tugs at Nat’s wrist and starts to lay back. “I want you on my face,” she pants, just the idea of it enough to reslick her thighs. “Please,” she whines, and Natalie stumbles forward until she’s straddling Misty’s shoulders.

“Like thi—Jesus,” she chokes out as Misty tugs her forward and scoots herself down, and restarts her rhythmic sucking on Natalie’s clit. Only this time Nat’s hips are free, unstifled. Natalie starts to rock, and Misty takes quick breaths when she can, unwilling to lose a second of this.

Her hips begin to rock faster, and Misty flattens her tongue to let Natalie set her own pace. Her fingers curl over Natalie’s hips, nails trailing down, and over her outer thighs, her ass, the backs of her thighs. She squeezes lightly here and there, encouraging Nat to move faster, and fuck herself on Misty’s mouth.

Nat pitches forward suddenly, her hands landing hard on the ruined shawl, and she gasps out Misty’s name as she comes. Misty takes one long lap at Natalie’s center, and trills when she shivers with an aftershock, and another at the sound.

The drums continue to beat, but a little slower, a little lighter.

An interlude.

After a moment, Nat pushes off from the ground and leans back. She looks down at Misty between her knees, and it is the fondest look Misty has ever seen from her.

She decides then and there that she will see that look again, and again, and again.

Whatever it takes.

Natalie reaches down and brushes Misty’s bangs from where they’re plastered to her forehead, before she dismounts and settles down at Misty’s side to catch her breath.

Misty sits up, too, still a little dazed from the open affection on Natalie’s face. As soon as she does, Nat reaches behind her neck and tugs her in for a passionate kiss.

It does nothing but heat her, and Misty slips her fingers between her thighs, unable to hold off any longer, and presses hard against her pulsating clit, beating in time with the

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

“You’re ready to come now,” Nat whispers against her lips as they part from the kiss. It’s not an order, but it’s no question, either.

Misty opens her eyes, Nat’s face close enough that she can see each fine detail. Nat’s voice is light and airy, and there’s a smug smile on her lips. But her eyes are intense, dark and light at the same time, and Misty bites at her lip.

“No,” Nat tugs at Misty’s lip until it pops free. She rests two fingers on Misty’s lip, and Misty opens her mouth to lick at them. Nat gasps, and doesn’t remove her fingers, so Misty continues. She laves the digits with the tip of her tongue, then curls it beneath Natalie’s pointer and sucks it into her mouth. “I doubt I need it,” her eyes flicker down to Misty’s fingers still strumming her own clit, “but this one, too.” She slides her middle finger along Misty’s tongue, and Misty makes it slick.

“Stop,” Nat orders, tugging Misty’s hand from her folds. “You’ll want to watch, I’m guessing?” she asks, voice lighter, but doesn’t wait for a response before she spins Misty around, and pulls her down into Natalie’s lap, back to breasts. Natalie grabs Misty’s left leg and places it over her own, baring Misty’s heated core to the air.

Natalie runs her spit-slicked fingers down between Misty’s breasts, before she circles one areola, and then the other. The wet skin puckers as much as it can in the cool breeze, but Misty’s already so aroused there’s very little further to go.

Still, the feel of the breeze tickles in that delicious not-enough, and Misty focuses on the tiniest tickle at the side of her ribcage just beside her breasts. She focuses on the slow and simmering tingle that builds and shifts before arching to her nipples like a phantom tug before the process starts over.

Misty is so focused on the sensation that she doesn’t notice Natalie’s fingers slipping down through her slicked pubic hair and between her lips. “Definitely didn’t need it,” Natalie murmurs into her ear, and Misty throws her other leg over Nat’s to spread herself wider. “Jesus, you’re a needy fucking thing,” she rumbles with laughter, but her fingers pick up speed between Misty’s folds until they press down against her clit.

“Hard or soft?” Natalie asks, her fingers barely tickling Misty’s bundle of nerves as she waits for a response.

All of it, she thinks, and wonders if she can experience every single side of Natalie before this is over. But she looks down her body to Natalie’s fingers, currently poised to please her, and she reaches a hand over her head to tangle in Nat’s hair. “Hard.”

Despite Misty’s choice, Natalie starts slow. Teasing little brushes and circles that stop before they really get started. So Misty tugs on Nat’s hair in her fist. “Ow,” Nat growls in her ear, but not before Misty hears the sharp gasp that sounded far from painful.

So Misty does it again. Just a small tug, and Nat presses her nose to Misty’s temple. This time she says nothing, but her fingers speed up, circling Misty’s clit until her breath catches, and then slows. Nat slides her left hand over Misty’s waist, and cups her left breast, thumbing the nipple in counterpoint to her other hand.

Again, Misty tugs at Nat’s hair, but this time Natalie slows down and bites Misty’s ear gently. A surge of slick coats Natalie’s fingers anew, and she must feel it because her lips curl into a smile over the shell of Misty’s ear, and her skin tingles with the rumble of her soft laugh.

The pleasure of it, the joy she so rarely gets to experience from Natalie, is the most intoxicating thing she can imagine. Misty’s fingers fly down to cover Natalie’s at her center, and she pushes Nat’s fingers into her until the pressure of it makes her toes burn, and fireworks explode behind her eyes.

Her body goes limp against Natalie’s, but she giggles with the delirious pleasure of Nat—of the wilderness—beneath her and inside her and around her. Nat brushes her fingers across Misty’s sensitive nerves, slowly, and softly, as she presses her mouth against Misty’s temple. It’s not a kiss, but it’s intimate, and grounding, and Misty hums with the pleasure of all of it and feels like her world is tilting.

When she finally pushes through the thick fog blanketing her mind, she feels Natalie pressed behind her, spooning her with one hand caressing the smooth skin of Misty’s stomach. Misty realizes her head is on Nat’s bicep, flexed to support Nat’s own head with her hand.

The drumming has stopped.

But Natalie’s fingers continue their soothing path up and down, up and down. It’s a different kind of drumming in the rhythm of it, personal and private and even more thrilling.

Misty knows that Natalie will break after this. That she will push Misty away and chalk it up to yet another ritual that blossomed without their full control.

It will hurt.

So Misty takes a slow breath, and slides her hand over Natalie’s until she can slot her own fingers between Nat’s, and curl them together.

Natalie hesitates behind her, and then buries her nose in the nape of Misty’s neck.

Misty won’t lose the wilderness again.

A gentle breeze dances across Misty’s body, and she smiles as she thinks—once more for good measure—

Thank you.