The couch was warm, but it didn’t feel that way. We sat like crumbling statues. Rowan sat on one edge of the couch, curled with his knees to his chest. Lukas was seemingly squishing himself into the patterned rug, I couldn’t see his face. 

I felt so, so, so bad dragging Lukas into this. Rowan was the one that told me about the “yellow,” so maybe I don’t feel as bad about him, but Lukas could’ve gone to school tomorrow and been none the wiser. He could've been spared so much trauma but instead he watched Mr. Wilkinson die. Mr. Wilkinson died because I led the fox to him. We never should’ve even gone to the forest. 

“Rowan!” Mrs. Takoda burst through the door and her poor son flinched hard enough to knee himself in the jaw, but I guess that’s how jumpy he usually is. 

She checked each of us for “ticks” we might've picked up in the woods but I got the impression that wasn’t all she was searching for. She called my dad, who was alive, and in the middle of making a shepard’s pie for our dinner tonight.

“Actually, Sam,” Mrs. Takoda said, she’d shortened dad’s name.

“We’d actually love to have Aven stay the night. She’s a big help and seems so sweet, and I was wondering if you could drop her things off at our house– or I can pick them up if–”

“Mom!” Rowan briskly crosses the room to stop her. 

“I’m not having a sleepover with…” he trailed off but gave everyone in the room a meaningful glance. Mrs. Takoda clucked her tongue at him. 

“Rowan, kid, you and I know better than anyone how serious this has gotten. She’s staying the night. Oh, and I’m extending the invitation to Lukas aswell.” She hissed at him, covering the phone's screen, then booped her son on the nose and told him to prepare extra spots at the dining table.

“Yes, sorry Sam. That was  just my son…” 

She kept talking to dad and I fought the urge to snatch her phone and cry and tell dad everything that happened. I knew that if anymore of that supernatural-spirit-demon whatever happened tonight, I’d break down and curl into a ball and never open up again.

But even more than that, I was dreading going to sleep, because I know that the fox is waiting for me. What if I can’t outrun it to the rocks tonight? What if I can’t even see it– I won’t even know when to start running? What if I don't even get the same dream tonight? What if--

“Aven!” Lukas had said my name, louder than was probably necessary, but I was grateful he snapped me out of… whatever that was. But going just off of his expression, this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.

“Huh?” I say, for some reason feeling embarrassed, as if I was caught by a teacher daydreaming instead of mentally wrecking myself over paranormal chronic nightmares induced by an evil, sadistic fox that wanted to devor my soul.