Chapter Nine

Polly's eyes were wide open, locked on the ceiling as her ears strained in the darkness.

She definitely heard something.

After a long, long pause, she heard it again. A scrabbling sound was right outside the cabin. 

An owl hooted plaintively.

And then…

Some sort of keening animal noise in the distance that caused her to grip the quilts at her side into tight fists, fighting down panic.

Wolves.

No, coyotes. They have coyotes up here.

That was definitely a coyote.

Several of them.

And that scrabbling? Definitely something trying to get in and attack, she just knew it.

Polly choked down panic as she heard the howling sound again, closer this time. Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in and out, willing calmness into her body. In…out…in…out…

She knew she must have heard the same sounds in her childhood, but back then, she was used to it. She was accustomed to the sounds of the night, and knew that Parker or her father wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Now, all she felt was isolation and fear, her minds playing tricks on her, numbed from years of the sounds of Santa Monica, not scrabbling coyotes.

She knew she was being utterly ridiculous, but without a scrap of light, in an familiar place after so long, she just couldn’t seem to get her mind to shut the hell up…

Okay, that was way too fucking close, Polly's mind screamed as she heard another wail outside. In a flurry of moment, Polly sat up, pulling the quilt around her in a protective shawl and shuffled to the door. There was faint moonlight through the windows, and she could see her way to the door, and then to the stairs.

Nearly tumbling down them in her eagerness to avoid the coyote that was at this moment scaling the wall of the cabin to eat her, Polly vaulted down the stairs, avoided looking out the front door in case Killer the Coyote was looking in and dashed into the guest room and the sleeping form sprawled in the middle of the bed.

Chase's hands were thrown above his head, the quilt dragging the floor and Jack pinning his feet. Several inches of very taut stomach greeted her, as well as rumpled bedhead and a slight snore.

After a moment, she deemed that the snorer was Jack.

Chase looked so peaceful. She should just buck up, go back upstairs, and go back to sleep. No need to wake him just because…

Polly strangled a cry as another howl rent the silence.

"Chase. Chase. CHASE," she whisper-shouted at the sleeping form. 

"Mrmph," the still sleeping Chase replied, twisting in his pillow slightly.

"Chase," Polly said, her hand hesitating above his shoulder. "Hey, woodsman," she added, gently shaking him.

"Hrm? What? Where the… hi," Chase said, his eyes snapping open and then focusing on Polly's pale face hovering above him. 

"There is something out there," Polly whispered, her voice tight and dramatic.

Chase squinted at her. "There are a lot of things out there, Polly."

"I mean…bad things."

"Bad things?" Chase struggled to sit up on the bed. "What kind of bad things?"

"Loud things. That howl. And that are headed this way," Polly said, her voice tinged with panic.

"Did they call ahead or something?" Chase asked, running a hand through his already spiky hair.

"This isn't funny!" Polly whisper-shouted, slapping his shoulder.

"Why are you whispering?" Chase asked. "They can't hear you."

"Chase!" Polly's voice was full of frustration and fear. "I. heard. them."

"What was it?" Chase asked, now fully awake and taking in Polly's rumpled pajamas, quilt cloak and terrified eyes.

"I think coyotes. Or wolves. Coyotes, I think," Polly said, unsure.

"Coyotes can't open deadbolts, Polly," Chase explained patiently. "You're perfectly safe in here. Besides, Jack is here."

At his name, Jack’s eyes opened and regarded them for a moment. With a snuffle, he closed his eyes again and resumed snoring.

"Oh, I feel SO much better now that Jack the attack wooddog is here," Polly said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

Chase flung the rest of the quilt off the bed, and wriggled his feet out from under Jack. "I'll check the doors, okay?"

Polly nodded, shifting on the bed and pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Okay."

Polly watched Chase climb from the bed in his white tee shirt and boxers – plaid, she noted dimly – and walk to the front door, testing the locks. He ambled to the back door, glanced out, and then checked the locks on that door as well. "Nothing I can see," he said, returning to the bed and flopping back down on it on the other side of Polly, who remained frozen in place.

"Oh," Polly said, her voice quiet. "Okay."

"Polly, I swear. It's fine," Chase repeated, his voice full of command. "Nothing is coming in here."

"Okay, then…" Polly trailed off, looking around the guest room for a long moment, wondering if the rocking chair in the corner would be comfortable…

"Do you want to stay down here?" Chase asked, reading her mind.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to go upstairs?" Chase asked a moment later.

"No," Polly said in a tiny voice.

"Do you snore?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you hog the covers?"

"I don't think so."

Chase was silent for a long moment. "Okay, you can stay," he said, shifting over and patting the space beside him. "Lay down, and stop worrying. It's fine. I promise."

Polly took one last look around the cabin, and then cautiously lay down beside an already drowsy Chase. "Okay," she said again, dropping her own quilt onto the floor and crawling beneath the one stretched across the bed.

After an interminable silence, Polly finally closed her eyes and willed herself back to sleep, but couldn’t seem to relax her muscles, still straining to hear the sounds outside the house.

She didn't drop off until she felt Chase's hand wrap around hers and give it a reassuring squeeze before tugging it to lay on his warm, solid chest.

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