Sheepskin

vingt-deux; find me

Matthieu continued. "The day of the search party for Shazia; there's no way any of us could have been in two places at once. Opal was with you in the main party, and I know you must have seen Peter; he was with the hunters."

The conversation they had shared that afternoon flashed before Jonah's eyes, only adding to his list of unanswered questions.

He scoffed. "The wound on your arm has been healing too slowly for you to have been shot that day, but it still doesn't explain your whereabouts."

Despite his snappy retort, Jonah could sense the light in his logic dim. It wasn't easy to acknowledge Matthieu's alibi when reluctance was reminding him of the monster which lurked no more than skin-deep, ready to bear its teeth at any given moment.

Matthieu's eyes went to his bicep, where now a phantom bullet resides, his hand hovering over the injury. "Interesting. I thought that I was your number one suspect regarding what happened in the forest, but you've made the connection," he noted. "Consider me impressed."

This was more or less true. Before Jonah learned of what Opal had shared with him about the bullet, which had been wedged in Matthieu's arm, he was dead set that it was Matthieu who attempted to send him to an early grave that day. Since then, the picture he'd painted had smeared into a blur; a shadow of the clarity he once had. Nevertheless, this didn't mean Jonah trusted the man, or was convinced of his innocence. As far as he's concerned, Matthieu is just as guilty as the rest of the Dartmoore clan.

Jonah waited for him to elaborate; he was interested to see if Matthieu's story aligned with the version Opal gave him.

"The day of the search party, I was sure to have it organised so that in the event of confrontation with anyone uninvited, we would avoid casualties. Peter was with the hunters, Opal was assisting in the main party, and I was further out in the forest, hoping to lead attention away from the activity." Matthieu paused, raising a brow Jonah's way. "And it's a good thing Peter was there; you got off lucky."

So Matthieu was in the forest that day after all? If so, then it wasn't impossible that a stray bullet could have found him while fleeing from the influx of hunters which had made their way into the clearing. Though, if Jonah's recollection of the memory was accurate, he only heard one bullet escape its chamber and it belonged to Peter, a firearm which required completely different shells compared to the one that had landed a hit on Matthieu.

Even now, trauma hadn't faltered to keep Jonah's remembrance of the near-death experience alive and well, but nowhere near as vivid as the creature's eyes; they had burned a place into his dreams. Whenever Jonah would envision them, he always imagined that they were Matthieu's irises staring back at him, not those of a stranger.

The discomfort of no longer having a name or a face to assign his attacker made Jonah shift in his seat. A former part of himself had found a twisted peace in knowing their identity, but that security blanket was no more. Now, he had to brave the freeze.

"Several days after the events of the forest, I went out on my own to search the moorland. Peter and I were sharing the task. That way, we could cover more ground."

Jonah caught the double meaning to his words, graver than the others; they went out as beasts.

"However, on the evening I was headed west, I hadn't been aware that it wasn't just myself who had taken to the moors to continue the search, until I found a bullet in my arm." Jonah saw his stare harden, unable to contain his bitterness from the incident. "Hunters, I believe. Two of them," he clarified.

Recognition sparked Jonah's memory.

'For the last few days, my brother and I have been out on the moors shooting.'