He was warm. Maybe that was strange but he thought that maybe he should have stopped walking a long time ago and just wrapped himself in a blanket of snow. The forest was silent. Not just quiet like when he would hike in the woods behind Stacy and Mika’s house. It was never loud back there but there were always crickets and mosquitoes and frogs and birds and leaves. He was warm and the forest was silent and even if he could move Jesse didn’t know if he would want to. Not just yet anyways.
He could see a little of the Castle from where he lay. His eyes could still move but that hurt and the colors that used to swirl at the corners of his eyes after he slid into The Gulch now bubbled up with each blink. He closed his eyes but the silence scared him and he remembered that if you fall asleep in the snow then you freeze to death. So he stared at the base of the Castle and enjoyed the warmth that seemed to come from everywhere even though he couldn’t feel any part of his body except for his face. He was scared of the silence but there were sounds that scared him even more so he was thankful that he couldn’t hear the voices of the other kids on the playground or the screams of crows or that bump…
Clouds raced over the trees. There was almost no color. Black branches scraped against the grey clouds. Brown trunks and black stones lay smothered in white.
Jesse thought that the sun was shining through the trees. The trees at the base of the Castle cast long shadows on the snow. The shadows seemed to slither across the white ground and up the Castle’s high stone wall. He glanced back up and the clouds raced from his left to right. If anything, the sky was darkening so that the branches blurred at their tips. The shadows
did slither across the snow. Several shadows detached entirely from their trees and silently climbed the Castle wall. Many slid back down and flowed across the snow in wild shapes of birds and enormous black snakes.
A pile of snow tumbled over one of his hands from behind his head,. He saw his mitten disappear under the thick glob of white. He felt nothing. He tried to brush the snow away but he was too warm and the thought got lost somewhere in that heat. Maybe he couldn’t move his hand. Maybe he didn’t want to. It didn’t seem to matter. Someone was hushing him. Someone was singing. Something scratched at the leaves under the snow. He didn’t wonder that he could hear again. He didn’t recognize the voice singing so he listened to see if he knew the song.
Aye said the robin sitting on a fence, I once courted a handsome wench She got scared and from me fled
And with the shame my breast burns red.
It was a woman’s voice that sang behind him soft and close but not moving any closer. The hushing was the wind moving the clouds. His breath scratched in and out but it also crackled
and bubbled like dad’s coffee maker. Screams drifted from the other side of the Castle. The shadows continued to chase each other around trees and up the Castle wall.
With a caw and a crack called the bright beak crow Long lost love is what I know
A murder drove her far away And with that murder I live today.
The shadows raced up the side of the Castle and paused close to the top. They all seemed to flow one into the other so that where there had been close to a dozen there was now just one. The shadow descended slowly and shapelessly until it reached the bottom of the wall. It began to stretch out toward Jesse when it touched the snow. It took on a shape. Jesse was terrified. He was so warm. He could watch but the only things that seemed to move out here were this one shadow and the clouds. The singing had stopped but screaming seemed quite loud now—the cawing of crows from the opposite side of the Castle.
The shadow on the ground took the shape of a man with his feet planted against the wall of the Castle and his head pointed toward Jesse. The shadow lifted its arms toward Jesse and stretched in almost all directions at once. Jesse gave one ragged gasp but all that followed was darkness and silence.
Small, icy flakes are falling when Mr. Freeman and the ranger climb out of the creek bed and stop to examine the small footprints silently filling up with wind and snow. They catch the slight dragging of the prints but don’t waste any time discussing it. They saw the pieces of the sled and a dark stain on one of the boulders-- they are under no illusions that Jesse might just be
preoccupied with some game of exploration. Both men set off down the path, calling out every few yards.
“JESSE!”
“JESSE! WHE’ARE YA!”
“JESSE! COM’ON SON! JESS...”
The trees mock their yells as they step up to the foot of the old bridge abutment.
Hundreds of birds swarm through the branches, and the air ebbs and swells with their voices. Mr. Freeman walks around the base of the bridge while the ranger takes the stairs. Black crows drift around them like heavy leaves.
The ranger is the first to spot Jesse’s body. He calls out to Mr. Freeman and Mike’s dad follows the ranger’s motions. He stops several yards from the spot.
“Mr. Freeman!” calls the ranger. “Mr. Freeman? What is it?”
But Mike’s dad will go no further, nor can he retreat. Not until the ranger joins him on the valley floor. Not until the ranger lets out with another “Jesus Christ...” and reaches for his gun. Not until the retort echoes over and over through the valley until it seems to lose interest and drift down the creek bed. Not until the large crow with the orange leg band flies off like driven rain. Not until the ranger pulls down Jesse’s cap, covering his blue lips and the bloody holes where his eyes used to be.