Blaire walked to the cemetery in a bitter mood. 

Count on Grandfather Henry to ruin a perfect day with his pessimistic attitude.

Matthew glanced at her every few steps, silently questioning, but knowing better than to pry. He knew what Henry Blackwood was like. What he didn’t know was what Blaire's grandfather did this time.

“Over my dead body!” he had barked when Blaire informed him she was going to the town cemetery.

“Fine. I can wait a few minutes,” Blaire retorted harshly.

If she was within reaching distance, her grandfather would have beaten her with his cane. And she's willing to admit it was wrong of her to stoop to his level. But Blaire was tired of his paranoid, superstitious attitude hovering over her every day.

No one else brought up the dangers of the woods and her ill-timed arrival. Even if they still believed in the taking season, people were smart enough to avoid drudging up the bleak past. She didn't come here to be reminded of terrors; though that was inevitable.

Blaire couldn’t for the life of her understand why her grandfather didn’t have the same sensibility as the rest of the town.

“It’s dangerous!” Grandpa Henry explained. “Remember what I said? Listen to me and stay out of the woods.”

“I am staying out of the woods. I haven’t gone anywhere near the place.”

“The cemetery is right next to it!”

Blaire felt like throttling him.

“Well, I’m not the idiot who chose the location.” Blaire folded her arms. “Grandfather, considering the past week, I think I’ve handled myself pretty well. Please let me see Grandmother.”

“But alone-”

“Matthew Lester is coming with me.”

Grandfather Henry frowned. “He doesn’t seem very reliable.”

“He’s just walking me. He doesn’t need to slay any dragons,” Blaire explained slowly. “I’ll be back just in time for lunch.”

Just then, the sound of a pounding against the door interrupted their conversation.

“You have an hour!” he hollered after Blaire.

Yeah, sure, Blaire thought dismissively.

“Bye!” Blaire yanked open the door, finding Matthew bouncing on his toes with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He beamed brightly at the sight of her and she forced a smile in return.

“You’re dressed nice,” he commented as they escaped. “Appropriate.”

If that’s his way of complimenting a girl’s appearance, he really is a lost case with romanticism.

Blaire threw on the same outfit she wore on her second day there: black shirt with dark jeans. Her raven hair has been combed into a ponytail. 

In casual clothes Blaire looked anything but “nice”. She hadn’t considered packing a dress shirt and skirt to wear when visiting Grandmother. Blaire hadn’t thought of her at all. She thought of her bitter grandfather and Cole, neither of which required a uniform.

But Blaire doubted Grandmother Valerie would mind. She never fussed over things such as fashion.

“Oh...thanks."

“These are for you.”

A group of wildflowers blocked Blaire's path and she looked from them to Matthew in surprise then weariness. This wasn't a date. She had said that, hadn't she?

“To take to your grandmother,” he added quickly, noticing her reaction. “I had a feeling you may forget to bring something.”

“Oh.” Blaire brightened and accepted the flowers. “Thank you.”

“I remember Valerie,” Matthew said as they continued walking. “She was a kind lady.”

“Yes, she was. Very kind.”

“Her funeral was very beautiful.”

I wish I could have been there.

Blaire wouldn't say it. Blaire allowed herself to think it and wallow in guilt.

“I remember once she used to…”

In the present, Blaire drowned Matthew out, not caring to hear what experiences he had with her grandmother, as she saw the cemetery come into view.

There was no iron gate preventing trespassers nor a keeper. The town took turns in giving the cemetery attention. But, be it the fog or the demon’s woods curled on its right side, the place was always spooky.

Matthew shivered as they enter the grounds. “Doesn’t this place scare you?”

Blaire stared at the sea of tombstones rotting and slanted with grass overgrown and partially dead. It was beautiful…but sad.

“Where is my grandmother buried?” 

“This way.” Matthew pointed left and led her over the buried bodies.

Blaire recognized the surnames on the stones, but none of them held any distinct meaning. These were strangers.

Blaire could tell which stone was her grandmother’s before they reached it. A black marble angel hovered protectively over a patch of withered grass.

“I was told that’s what Valerie looked like when she was young,” Matthew said, nodding respectfully at the angel.

She was beautiful and somber. A dark angel guarding a grave for all eternity.

Blaire stood before the angel and inwardly read the stone at her feet.

Here lies Valerie Fulton Blackwood. Beloved and eternally missed. May she rest in peace.

Blaire knelt, digging her knees into the cold ground as she placed the wildflowers on the stone.

“Take your time. I’ll go visit my ancestors while we're here.” Matthew strode off, leaving her with a bunch of slabbed stones.

“Hi Grandmother,” Blaire began, “these flowers are from Matthew, not me. I’m sorry about not bringing you anything. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner and visit you when you were sick.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here. Well, I’m taking care of your husband. The stubborn man hasn’t collapsed yet. I’m convinced I was tricked into coming here.

“It’s the taking season, so he’s pretty angry that I’m here. Worried about me, I guess. But I’m fine. No one has gone missing the past years. Not since...

“If you were here, you would be able to make him calm down. See that there’s nothing to worry about. He’s a loose can-Ow!”

Blaire yanked back, rejecting the stabbing sensation on her wrist. Two irritated piercings were marked into her skin, pulsing and burning.

Blaire looked from her wrist to the ground where she had rested and saw the culprit: an intimidating and woefully familiar black-and-white serpent.

It shot away...and Blaire found herself chasing after it before the thought of doing so had even crossed her mind.

They zigzagged through the stones, distancing themselves from Blaire's grandmother’s grave and the ignorant Matthew. Blaire was aware that they were heading towards the woods, that they were now in the woods, but she couldn't stop running.

This snake. She knew this snake. She also knew that, theoretically, it shouldn’t exist in a town like this. Garden snakes, maybe, but this? This belongs in a zoo. 

Or with the kidnapper.

Blaire's sensible side would tell her to turn around. To examine the snake bite and then continue the plan she's had for the last twelve years.

But her non-sensible side, the impatient side, pointed out it has been twelve years. If there was a way to cheat the system, to reach her goal faster, she'd take it any way she could.

Blaire didn't look back, didn’t pause to take a breath. Blaire just followed the snake deeper into the thickening and darkening woods. There was no way out now. She was officially lost.

Her heart rate doubled then tripled. Her arm screamed for ice. Her breathing became clipped and untamed.

As Blaire's eyes blurred, she faintly wondered if she was having a heart attack. Or dying.

Blaire wanted to laugh. Or cry. 

She tripped over air and fell onto the ground, fading in and out, body cringing and no longer fully functioning.

The venomous snake made its grand reappearance and slithered across her eyes like a heavy cool blindfold, putting Blaire into total darkness.