Homecoming

Glass leaned against the door and closed her eyes. This was it. This time, they would finish off Luke and kill her too.

She listened for the sound of footsteps, the crash of windows, the feel of the door being smashed open behind her.

No sound came but the wind, and the rush of the river. They were expecting her to come out. Had they been outside the entire time, waiting for her to emerge so they could get a clean shot?

They had her cornered. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but hope that they’d get tired of waiting and batter down the door or crash in through the windows. Her mind raced, searching for any way out.

Even if she was able to distract them long enough to get away from the cabin without being riddled with arrows, what then?

Frantic, she cast her eyes around the room, desperate for something—anything—she could use as a distraction, to buy them some time. Nothing. She was about to let out a scream of frustration when she realized there was something in her hand. She’d been clutching it so tightly she’d almost forgotten about it. Glass uncurled her fingers, and there, squashed in her palm, were the matches she’d grabbed on her way out the door.

A desperate, foolish plan formed in her mind. If she couldn’t outrun them to the river, she would need to find a way to escape that didn’t call for running. Before she had time to think better of it, she set to work.

Glass crawled across the floor and sat under the window by the front door. She wrapped a strand of the ripped bed sheet around the end of a piece of firewood and struck a match. She lit the sheet, and a few seconds later, she was gripping a burning torch.

As the flame flickered and grew, Glass took a deep breath and counted down. “Three, two, one…” She jumped up and with a quick glance out the open window, aimed for the pile of dried firewood Luke had stacked up against the wall of the cabin before he’d gotten hurt.

She dropped back down to the floor and waited. There was silence, and for a painful moment, she thought her plan had already failed. Then she heard it: a sharp crackling, followed by a soft whoosh as the pile of wood caught fire. The cabin began to glow as the flames caught on the brush and spread outward toward the woods—just as she’d hoped.

Glass turned to Luke. He hadn’t moved. His breathing was shallow, and his brow twitched as he lay, barely conscious, by the fireplace. If Luke died, Glass would die too. She knew that as clearly as she knew her own name.

The sound of the flames was growing louder, and within a few minutes, the air in the cabin began to change. Glass cursed to herself when she realized the foolish thing she’d done—the house may have been made of stone, but that wouldn’t stop the smoke from suffocating them if the fire encircled the whole place. A little bit of smoke was just starting to waft in through the open window, visible in the flickering light of the fire.

Glass moved closer to the door, getting ready for a quick exit. As the smoke began to fill the room, she pulled the blanket off of Luke and doused it with the last of their water. Outside, she could hear voices calling to one another across the clearing.

She knelt next to Luke and pulled the soaked blanket over both of them. The air grew warmer and she could see orange flickering against the window from under the edge of the blanket. Now the voices outside were laughing and cheering. Let them think they’d won. Let them think she was already dead. Perhaps they would be too shocked to chase her when she and Luke made their escape.

Luke shifted on the sled, a low moan escaping his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have gotten you help sooner. We shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

The air was boiling now, so hot Glass could almost feel her skin melting and peeling away. The smoke was coming in through the window in thick billows, making it hard to see anything, hard to breathe. They huddled under the blanket, Glass trying to guess just how much longer they could survive before it was too late. If they waited too long, the flames would be around the whole house, and there would be no way to escape. They would suffocate if they stayed here in the smoke. Eyes stinging, Glass pushed herself off the floor and ran to the door. It was now or never.

Glass yanked open the door and peered out. Night had fallen outside, and the roaring flames were playing havoc with the shadows, casting flickering orange and black lights across the clearing and on the trees.

She grabbed the sled’s rope, hunkered under the blanket, and charged through the door. She gasped as she passed from the furnace of the cabin into the cooler night air.

Luke moaned as she pulled him across the bumpy ground, downhill toward the river. For several long seconds, she ran with only the crackling of the fire behind her.

She heard the first shouts as she reached the boat and started pushing it into the water. The firelight and smoke hadn’t been quite enough to cover her escape.

“Luke,” she said as she pulled him up. “You have to help me. Just for a moment.”

His eyes twitched open, and she could feel his muscles straining to move. He stood on his one good leg, and she slipped under his arm. Together they stumbled forward, and she tried to slow his fall as he almost collapsed into the boat. She tossed the sled in after him and began pushing the boat down the slope into the water.

Arrows flew by, landing with a splash just ahead of her. She could hear the thud of feet running down the hill toward them as she threw her entire weight against the boat, shoving it out into the current.

At the last second, she leapt, nearly missing the boat as the water grabbed it and pulled it downstream.