HAVEN ✓

Twenty-Three

I shake my head slightly, his hands barring me from much movement. "You are—you did. I'm just fine." I manage. His palm against my cheek is sticky with my tears. "What was that thing, Luke?"

He blinks. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I take his hands from my face and bring them down, holding them in my own. He slips his fingers between mine, intertwining them, and my cheeks heat at the intimacy. "I'm fine... thanks to you. I'm just a little overwhelmed. What was that... that... creature?" I venture again.

Luke frowns, some of the worry on his forehead replaced by confusion. We hold each other's gaze for a moment until a look of realization smooths the wrinkle between his eyebrows. "You really don't know, do you?"

My stomach drops. "Are you patronizing me?" I ask, defensive. I feel so fragile right now. After that terrifying moment, I vaguely feel like I'm dreaming, and I'm on the verge of waking. The receding adrenaline is almost dizzying.

"No, no," Luke corrects, squeezing my hands in his. "I just... It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't know. It doesn't make sense." His eyes go far-off, lost in thought. "Nothing makes sense."

"Please, just tell me," I choke. I can't stand it anymore.

Luke takes a breath, meeting my eyes with a seriousness that steadies my thumping heart. "They are lusus naturae. Monsters."

"I think I got the monster part," I reply. "But what do they want? How do they exist? Why have I never heard of them?"

Luke's lips are pursed, like he either doesn't have the answer, or doesn't want to tell me the truth. I step a little closer to him and squeeze his fingers as he did a moment ago, coaxing him to spit it out. His eyes soften as he looks down at me.

"They're Skinwalkers, Sophie."

◊ ◊ ◊

I somehow end up on the floor of the little kitchen. The wooden floor there is cold and wet from us tracking the rain in, but it is steady. It doesn't move. It is constant, unlike the knowledge I thought I had.

Luke is behind me, and I blush as I realize I am leaning against him. His back is to the wall and we sit there in silence, the only sound is the rain pounding against the roof. I look around and rationalize that there is no other seating in this small room, unless you count the wooden counters that may or may not hold a person.

Skinwalkers. For days, I had them pictured as a group of rebel Outlanders, more wild than the villagers we encountered in Keir. Savage enough to pillage a township and rip people apart. Now I understand the resentment toward them. The hostility and anger and fear.

Most of all, I am confused. Why have we always been taught that Outlanders—the actual human beings—are the ones who are the most dangerous? Why were we lied to?

I sit up slowly and Luke shifts with me, his arm coming to rest around me. He hands me a canteen of water and although I'm not thirsty, I drink. At the very least, the routine of it helps to steady my nerves.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he says softly, as if I'd pass out again.

I cannot believe I fainted. How embarrassing.

I just shake my head, still too shocked for words. I hand him the canteen and he takes a swig as well. In the ensuing silence, a thousand questions run through my head. I twist to look at him and he's studying my face intensely. It almost makes me second guess opening my mouth.

"So that was a Skinwalker," I state finally. Saying it aloud helps me come to terms with the reality of it. It looked so... impossible. Fantastical. Something out of a child's story.