The village was completely swallowed by the midnight fog by the time Madeline's bare, bleeding feet finally touched familiar dirt. The twisting alleys were dead and silent, the windows of the small cottages shuttered tight against the biting wind.
She dragged herself toward her own home, every muscle in her body screaming in protest. As her small, crooked cottage materialized through the gloom, her breath hitched. The front door had a heavy, brutal iron padlock—brand new and gleaming cruelly in the moonlight—hung from the latch. Woodsman's permanent mark of ownership.
Madeline fell to her knees in the dirt just beneath the porch. She frantically swept her hands over the cold, hard earth where she had last seen her grandmother gasping for air.
Nothing. Not a shawl, not a footprint. The porch was empty. The ghost of her grandmother's presence hung heavy in the freezing air, but the woman herself was gone.
A cold, jagged spike of panic drove itself deep into Madeline's chest. She scrambled back to her feet, ignoring the agony in her soles, and ran.
She bolted down the winding dirt path toward Charlene's cottage, the fog tearing at her ruined dress. She threw herself against her friend's wooden door, her bruised fists pounding a frantic, desperate rhythm.
"Charlene!" she cried out, her voice cracking, swallowed instantly by the wind. "Charlene, please!"
Silence. No movement from inside. No welcoming glow of a lantern through the cracks in the wood.
Woodsman got to them too. He took them all. The terrifying thought paralyzed her. Her lungs seized, and she backed away from the door, her eyes wide with mounting horror.
"Maddy?"
The voice came from the dark alley behind her. Madeline gasped, spinning around wildly.
Charlene stood frozen near the woodpile, a dropped bundle of kindling at her feet. In the dim light, Charlene's eyes were blown wide with absolute shock. For a second, neither girl moved. Then, Charlene rushed forward, closing the distance between them.
"Gods above, what happened to you?" Charlene gasped, her hands hovering over Madeline as if terrified she might shatter her. She took in the mud caked on Madeline's hands, the tear in her dress, and the dark, angry bruises blooming violently around her wrists. "I was so worried! The whole village heard about the debt collectors. Are you okay?"
It was a foolish question, and they both knew it.
Madeline's fragile composure completely shattered. "Woodsman... he locked the house. He took the keys. He took everything," she sobbed, collapsing into Charlene's arms. "They threw her out, Char. When they dragged me into the carriage, my grandma was on the dirt, struggling to breathe. And now she's gone! I don't know where she is!"
"Shh, Maddy, it's okay," Charlene whispered fiercely, wrapping her arms tightly around Madeline's trembling frame. "I found her. I found her when I came to check on you earlier this afternoon."
Madeline ripped herself out of the embrace, her face snapping up. "Where is she? How is she?"
Charlene's eyes dropped to the ground. She hesitated, her jaw tightening. It was a micro-expression, a split-second delay, but Madeline knew her friend too well. That hesitation meant only one thing.
"Don't tell me..." Madeline's voice dropped to an empty, horrified whisper. The world tilted on its axis. "Don't tell me she's dead."
"No! Maddy, no, it's not what you're thinking," Charlene said quickly, grabbing Madeline's icy hands. "She's alive. I swear it. But... I can't take you to her tonight. I'll take you first thing in the morning. For now, you look like you're about to collapse. Let's get you inside and cleaned up."
"I don't care about being clean!" Madeline cried, digging her feet into the dirt, refusing to move toward the door. Panic gnawed at her throat. If anything happened to her grandmother, she would truly be untethered in this nightmare world. "Is she okay, Charlene? Tell me the truth!"
"She's safe," Charlene emphasized, her tone leaving no room for argument. She pulled the latch, pushing her front door open to reveal the dying embers of a warm fire. "Now, please, get inside before you catch your death out here. It's freezing."
The promise of the word safe finally broke Madeline's resistance. Her shoulders slumped, and she allowed herself to be guided into the small, comforting warmth of Charlene's home.
True to her word, Charlene moved with practiced efficiency. She dragged a tin tub to the center of the room, heating water over the hearth, and handed Madeline a folded stack of clean, woven wool clothes. Madeline was profoundly, overwhelmingly grateful for a friend who knew when to ask questions and when to simply offer sanctuary.
As the hot water worked to scrub away the freezing mud and the suffocating scent of Woodsman's expensive cologne, Madeline finally felt her erratic heartbeat begin to slow.
"Have you heard from Miguel?" Madeline asked softly from the tub, staring at the grey water. It was entirely unlike Miguel to vanish when she was in trouble. He was always her shadow, her protector.
Charlene paused in her sweeping, leaning heavily on the broom handle. A dark shadow crossed her face. "No. I haven't heard a single word from him since the day he brought you back from the Devil's Throat."
Madeline shuddered, though the water was hot. "Do you think something bad happened to him?"
"Miguel is the toughest man in the village," Charlene said firmly, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. "I'm sure he's okay. But Maddy..."
Charlene stepped closer, offering a warm towel as Madeline stepped out of the tub. Her eyes fixed on the horrific, hand-shaped bruises wrapping around Madeline's upper arms. "Did his men do this to you?"
Madeline pulled the towel tightly around herself, dropping her gaze to the floorboards. The memory of Woodsman's heavy, brandy-laced breath on her neck made her violently nauseous.
"It wasn't his men," Madeline whispered, the words tasting like ash. "It was Woodsman. He told me there was a... a faster way for me to settle the debt." She closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the darkness of the manor. "He tried to force himself on me, Char. I had to bite him to get away."
A sharp, horrified gasp escaped Charlene's lips. The broom clattered loudly to the floor. "Maddy... oh my god, Maddy, I am so sorry."
Tears spilled hot and fast down Charlene's cheeks as she rushed forward, enveloping Madeline in a fierce, protective hug, mindful of the bruises. "I promise you," Charlene cried, her voice suddenly ringing with an iron resolve. "I promise I will protect you from now on. I won't let him anywhere near you ever again."
"It's okay," Madeline lied, forcing a weak, exhausted smile as she pulled back. She felt hollowed out, scraped clean to the bone.
After the terror of the carriage, the assault, and the mysterious stranger in the fog, her body simply had nothing left to give. Charlene guided her to the small straw bed near the hearth, piling heavy quilts over her shivering form. Charlene didn't leave her side, sitting vigil on a wooden stool as the fire popped and hissed.
Madeline closed her eyes, the exhaustion pulling her down into a deep, dreamless dark. But before she drifted away, one question echoed relentlessly in her mind: Where is my grandmother?