Chapter 4 Take Me Home

• Lyra’s POV
• Bloody hell.
• I’d been lying here for what felt like forever, my mind stuck in a fog. Only now did it hit me—I came here with Josephine.
• Panic surged through me.
• Where was she? Was she safe? Hurt? Dead?
• A dozen questions ricocheted through my head, and none of them had answers. Not unless I got moving.
• I sat up, wincing as pain flared along my side. The woods were still and strangely serene, too quiet for comfort.
• “I’m going home,” I said aloud, more to myself than to anyone else.
• “That’s highly unthinkable, miss,” the familiar stranger said.
• His voice snapped me back. I glanced up at him. He looked calm, collected, hands stuffed casually in his pockets like he hadn’t just saved our lives.
• “You’ve got to wait until your injuries subside,” he added. “In the meantime, I could find you and your friend some food. You look like a worm.”
• “Shut up, idiot.”
• I glared at him, fury lacing my words. “My friend is in fucking danger, and you’re talking about food? Just fuck off, boy.”
• His expression darkened. He looked at me—really looked at me—for a long, disappointed seconds. Then, without a word, he turned and started walking away.
• I blinked, my anger giving way to dread. What was he doing? Was he really leaving? My heart sank.
• “And where the hell do you think you're going?” I demanded, dragging myself to my feet.
• He didn’t respond. He just kept walking like he didn't even hear me at all.
• “I’m talking to you, stranger!” I shouted, voice rough with desperation.
• He stopped but didn’t turn around. “The stranger’s name is Blake,” he said flatly. “And he would prefer to be addressed as such.”
• The warmth was gone from his voice. Only chill remained.
• Shit.
• I swallowed my pride. I couldn’t do this alone. And now I’d driven away the only help we had. My chest ached, not just from the wounds, but from regret.
• “Please, Blake,” I said softly. “I beg you… help me find my friend. Please.”
• It was a decisive moment where I had to swallow my pride because it was damn obvious that it was necessary to do so.
• He turned then, our eyes locking.
• Silence.
• Then, without a word, he walked over to Aby, who was still unconscious, and scooped her up like she weighed nothing.
• I watched in stunned silence, throat tight. “Thank you,” I whispered, and I meant it. Deeply.
• Blake said nothing. He just walked. I hobbled behind, doing my best to keep up, but he was fast. Whether it was because of my injured leg or my 5'6" frame, I couldn’t tell.
• The pain in my thigh was worsening, no more blood, but it felt like fire was crawling under my skin. That creature’s claws had gone in deep. I was surprised that I was still able to stand up.
• Josephine…
• Maybe she made it to the cave. That was our plan if things went wrong.
• I wanted to suggest we check the cave before leaving the forest, but I couldn’t bring myself to burden Blake further. Not while he was still carrying Aby.
• So I kept quiet. Followed like a sheep.
• When we broke through the trees, I saw it—Grandpa’s truck, parked right where we’d left it. Untouched.
• But if the truck was still here…
• My heart lurched. Josephine could still be in the woods.
• “You’re scared,” Blake said, glancing at me. His eyes glittered again with that strange, unreadable light.
• I ignored the flutter his face caused in my chest. Focus, Lyra. Focus.
• “Yes,” I admitted. No point lying.
• “What can I do to help?”
• “I’ll… I’ll take care of it,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.
• He didn’t stop looking at me. It was unnerving how intense he could be with just his eyes.
• “I want to help you, stranger,” he muttered,
• “Lyra,” I added. “My name is Lyra.”
• He nodded once. “Beautiful name, Lyra.” His voice was softer now. “Tell me what you need.”
• I hesitated, then confessed. “I think Josephine might still be out there. She could be at the cave… we said we’d meet there if we got separated. I'm hoping she may be hiding there waiting for me to come and get her.”
• He paused, his face processing.
• “I’ll find her,” he said quietly.
• His voice carried a quiet assurance. Then he added, “Do you have anything that belongs to her? Clothes? Piece of metal? Something very personal.”
• “What?” I blinked. “Why would that matter?”
• “Do you?” he asked again, ignoring the question.
• “No. But—”
• “Never mind,” he said, offering a crooked smile—and then he vanished into the woods like wind through branches.
• I wondered who would search for someone using their personal belongings. I have only heard that about cops and their K-9. I could have inquired further only if the situation had permitted.
• I looked up at the darkening sky. Violet clouds drifted above, cloaking the sun. Evening was coming.
• I thought of Grandpa. Of how worried he must be. Not today, I begged the universe. Not on his birthday.
• I prayed Blake would find her.
• I prayed harder than I ever had.
• Minutes dragged, comes footsteps.
• Blake emerged from the trees. Alone.
• He was carrying nothing but two metal shovels.
• My breath caught.
• “Where’s Josephine?” I croaked, already knowing the answer.
• I collapsed to my knees, sobs wracking my body.
• Had the beast killed her?
• Had she bled out somewhere, alone, calling for help that never came?
• I clutched my arms, rocking slightly, trying to stop the flood of memories—our late-night talks, the ridiculous dares, our laughter echoing through the house…
• I should’ve stayed. I should’ve fought harder to keep us together.
• A cool hand touched my jaw.
• I flinched.
• Blake knelt beside me, his other hand gently smoothing my hair down to the nape of my neck.
• He pulled out a crisp white handkerchief from his jacket and dabbed at my cheeks, quiet and patient. His skin was warm on mine.
• “You need to stop crying,” he said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
• I sniffled. “It was. I told her to split. If I hadn't, we’d still be together.”
• “You don’t know that,” he said. “Things could’ve ended even worse.”
• I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
• “I do,” Blake said. “But you’re still alive—and so is the other one. That matters.”
• His voice had a grounding effect, like stepping into a river very early in the morning.
• “I want to ask you a favor,” I whispered.
• “Anything.”
• “Take us home.”
• He jerked up like I’d slapped him. “What?”
• “Please.”
• “No.” He shook his head, stepping away from me. “No. I can’t.”