Farraway Mist ?A Wattpad featured story?

Chapter 15: By The Edge Of The Sea

George came awake suddenly, sitting up, breath catching in his throat.

He was completely alone in bed, no Jess, no Bandit.

No Scout.

And the room was freezing. The window was open, a wet wind whistling through. His bare chest broke out in goose-flesh as he got out of bed and hurried to the window. He leaned out, looking at the flagstoned terrace below, barely visible in the light cast by the quarter moon which was setting in the ocean to the west. He was only just able to reach the window, which had been swung out as far as it would go. It squealed in protest as he pulled it back.

How had it been opened without him hearing it?

He latched it shut, and went in search of Scout and the dogs, a knot of worry growing in his gut. The entire house was cold, too cold.

What in the hell was going on?

He could hear both dogs barking, very faintly, their monotonous, unvarying tone indicating that they were stuck somewhere, unable to get out. This meant that, wherever they were, they weren't with Scout. He walked faster, trying to go toward the sound of their barking, though it was hard to tell which direction it was coming from.

Jesus, it was cold. George stopped at the foot of the stairs where they led to the third floor. The barking seemed to be louder. But why would they be up there? No one ever went up there. He took the stairs three at a time and stopped on the landing.

The barking was definitely louder. He ran to the end of the hallway and turned the knob of the wide door that led to the attic, but it rattled uselessly in his hand. He could hear the dogs going crazy at the top of the next flight of stairs on the other side of the thick door, scratching at the wood, and he began to panic, the knot in his stomach growing bigger, heavier.

He felt along the top of the doorjamb for the old-fashioned key that should be up there, running his fingers desperately along the ledge from one side to the other. He moved so quickly that he knocked it off, hearing it clink uselessly onto the floor next to his foot. He dropped to his knees, feeling for the key as he wondered where in the world Scout could be, in the freezing cold darkness in her wispy pajamas. He finally grabbed the key and jammed it into the keyhole, turning it viciously, nearly breaking it off in the lock. He felt the tumblers turn, and the door fell open, and he was running up the steep, twisting stairs in the dark. The dogs could hear him coming and were whining.

He got to the narrow landing and turned the knob to the small door; he didn't know what he would've done if it had been locked, for he had no idea where the key to this door would be. The dogs fell out on top of George, practically knocking him back down the dangerous stairs he'd just climbed, and he knew they didn't need to be told to go to Scout. He just followed them.

Bandit and Jess tore down to the ground floor, and George found the reason why the house was so cold: Every window and door was wide open. Any hope he had that Scout was safe in one of the rooms was dashed when Jess and Bandit ran straight through the lounge, past the log and rug he and Scout had carried out to the terrace just hours before and out to the path that led to the cliffs.

The dogs were soon out of sight, but George didn't call them back, hoping irrationally that maybe they could help her once they reached her, heedless of the fact that he was shirtless and barefoot and probably couldn't do anything himself, even if he could find her in the near darkness.

"Jess? Bandit? Scout?" He called from time to time, trying to find them. Bandit answered him, so at least he knew he was going in the right direction.

It was a brutally cold night, much colder than it had been the night before. The wind howled over the cliffs, and he could hear the waves booming against the rocks on the beach below. The spray was so strong he could taste the salt in the mist that hit his face.