The freezing wind blew through my thin jacket like it wasn't even there. I just had to of followed him in here.

I looked around me, completely lost. I had no sense of direction and it didn't help I was in the middle of a barren forest. Of course, I wouldn't be here if curiosity hadn't taken over the functional part of my brain.

He was the new kid, shrouded in mystery. What made things all the better for him was his looks. Dark hair, strange eyes, dark skin and a large amount of muscle; not to mention he was about 6"4. Of course he attracted attention in this small town. Oregon was a state of forests and silence. Nothing ever happened here, so when something pops up that has a fishy stench to it, everyone pounces on it, eager for something to do.

I heard a twig crack behind me and I whirled around. Nothing was there. So maybe that wasn't a twig, probably my brain trying to not panic, trying to work its rusty wheels and pinions. That or I was too panicky and responded to even the slightest noise. There it was again, SNAP. I managed to catch a glimpse of a shadow. I ran towards it. More twigs broke. I followed a dense path, looking for broken twigs, prints, anything. Perhaps he ran out of the forest somewhere; I'd just follow his footsteps out.

The path was tricky to follow, but having a ranger for a father had its benefits. Having to camp every summer with him was useful in a way.

The tracks became more blurry and hard to track as the sun set and the dark sky began to take over. I had to get out soon, or I'd be vulnerable to anything with a pulse and claws. Suddenly the tracks changed. I'd never seen a track so big, except for bears, but this defiantly was not a bear track.

I slowed my pace, not sure whether or not to continue. I jumped about three feet off the ground when I felt something vibrate in my pocket. My phone… WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF IT BEFORE ALL THIS SHIT! I grabbed it, wrenched it open and saw a text from my dad.

GET YOUR ASS HOME

My fingers fumbled with the keys and numbers as I heard more noises around me. The bright light hurt my eyes, as I was surrounded by darkness, but I kept typing.

LOST IN FOREST COME GET ME!!

It took him at least three minutes to text me back, always being horrible as usual with technology.

KEEP YOUR PHONE ON YOU. I'M COMING. I WILL CALL WHEN I REACH WOODS.

I tucked my phone deep into my pocket and sat down. I was shaking all over, the cold biting at my skin. I let my dark hair down, pulled my hands to my cheeks and sat there. I waited and waited, thawing my fingers. My pants were wet from the very small snow flakes that had began to fall.

SNAP—I jumped and a large, black dog bared its fangs and sank its teeth into my boot and began to drag me away from the tree root I was sitting on. I scrambled, flailed, screamed, kicked, but the dog kept dragging me. Twigs, grass, mud and snow all got on me as I was dragged deeper into the forest. It was getting darker and darker until I couldn't see anymore.

The rough growls of the dog dragging me only kept me awake through all of this. Was I going to die? Surely it was going to kill me. I felt its fang raked across my ankle and I felt a painful crack. Hot blood streamed down my foot as I screamed in agony. The dog gave a whimper, but kept on dragging me.

I was going to die. With my throbbing ankle, I could never get away.

I grabbed blindly at things around me, cutting my hands and fingers against sharp objects and rocks. I dug my nails into the soil and mud around me, but I couldn't hold myself against the dog. My ankle protested the movement the dog was creating, begging to be fixed. I began to cry and howl in pain.

There was a light I could tell by the shadows around us and the fact I could now see. Thick brush and tree were around us like walls and gates. The canopy of trees above blocked out any light. But the dog stopped in front of a clearing where the moon began to peek out between branches and bunches of dead leaves.

My face fell into the snow having no strength to stand the pain of craning my neck upwards and my shattered ankle. A startling growl sounded behind me and I was nosed over onto my back. My vision was fuzzy as I was slowly flowing in and out of consciousness. Tears streaked my face and my vision began to clear, but only slightly. The huge dog was looking over me, fangs bloody and hanging out of his mouth. I looked at his claws. They were the size of my mother's cooking knives.

More cracking noises sounded and I thought maybe something else in my body was broken. But I didn't fell any pain other then my ankle and my cut of hands. The dog took a long lick to my face and then to my ankle. Another one joined it and began to lick my hands. My fingers twitched slightly and I fell silent. I closed my sore eyes and thought of my family. Would they miss me? Would anyone ever find my remains, if there were some?

Tears escaped my eyes slowly and another lick to my face woke me up. I let out a gagging noise and the dogs both stopped their licking. The black dog then stretched out beside me and put its over-sized head on my stomach, whining. I was too out of it to think of what was going on. I was beginning to get the feeling back into my fingers and body. I was warmer.

I passed out, hardly feeling the vibrating of my phone in my pant pocket.

Bleary eyed and sore, I woke up to a very bright light. The stiff sheets and mattress beneath me cracked.

"Sara, sweetie, how are you feeling?" I heard my mother's voice beside me and a rude sound coming from her chair as she turned.

I had to be dreaming. My mother was in France, in cooking school, not in Oregon with me.

"What?" Was all I could get out of my parched throat, eyes focusing on the ceiling.

A door opened and a man walked in, his white coat blinding me. He smiled, his yellow teeth strange against his coat.

"Miss Williams, how are you feeling? On a scale of one to ten, if you would," He picked up a clipboard from the end of my bed and took a pen out of his coat pocket. "Well? If it's too much, just use your fingers."

I didn't like this doctor, seeing as my fingers were very sore and almost frostbitten.

"Three," I croaked and my mother made a sound of worry. "Where am I?"

It was a very stupid question it seemed, but I asked it anyway, wondering how I ended up in the hospital after I was so sure that I was going to die.

"The hospital, pumpkin," Her voice was cracking slightly, "Nathan—your father found you in the forest, all hurt in a blanket on the ground. You've been sleeping for two days."

"You have a broken ankle and we managed to save your fingers." The doctor gestured to my hands. There was a long pause, but the doctor interrupted the welcomed silence, "I apologize, how rude of me," He shook his hair, "I'm Doctor James Cole."

I nodded towards him, but my head began to swim.

"Where's dad?" I mumbled, ignoring Dr. Cole.

"He went home to let the dogs out and to get more clothes about an hour ago."

"Why are you here? What about cooking school?"

"Oh, Sara," She leaned in and began to stroke my hair, "I came as soon as I got Nathan—your father's call."

"Quit calling him Nathan," I snapped and she removed her hands.

A sudden knock on the door broke the horrible, unbearable silence. My dad walked in, carrying a duffel and two hot chocolates.

"Here you go Helen—Princess!" He put down the drinks and dropped the duffel bag on the doctor's foot, which I grinned at.

He hugged me, continually muttering 'My poor princess' in my hair. Being seventeen, being called Princess should have bothered me, but I couldn't have cared less. I wrapped my sore arms around him, pulling my IV needle in my hand sharply. I ignored the pain and pulled him nearly into my bed.

"Easy there Miss," Dr. Cole said and my dad broke the hug, "We can't have you pulling out your IV out now, could we?"

I pouted, the feeling in my fingers coming back to me at last.

After a couple of hours of tests and continuous walks down the hallways with crutches, I was free. I sat in the back of my dad's old truck, slinging an arm over my crutches. I stared at my bandaged and wrapped foot (which was now in a camouflaged, fluffy sock of my dad's).

Why wasn't I dead? What happened back in the forest? I could hardly remember anything, except the feeling of giving up on life and the pain my snapped ankle. I remembered the dogs of course, if you could call them dogs. They were the size of bears, so they had to be something else.

They had wolfish features to them, straight long noses, piercing eyes and erect ears. Their tails were long and full of hair. Their claws, I remember were enormous. I had never seen dogs like them before. Usually dogs never attacked people, unless threatened. I looked at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I wasn't much of a threat, being small for my age with harmless, nonthreatening brown, normal eyes.

I let out a long sigh.

"Whats wrong, Princess? Anything hurting?" My dad looked at me through the mirror and his eyes searched my face for any signs of pain.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. I want to see Art and India." I missed my dogs, my cuddle buddies and portable warmers.

"They'll be excited to see you." He smiled and his gaze resumed to the road again.

I was thankful my dad didn't ask questions. For one, it was annoying being overloaded with questions and secondly, I didn't even know the answers to my own.

"Do you still feel up to going to school Monday?" He asked me this every hour in the hospital, insisting I stay home and rest with the dogs. It was tempting, but I didn't need my work to pile up.

"Yes," I rubbed my head, "I could really go for a shower."

Dad laughed, but I didn't find it funny. My hair was slightly caked with mud and greasy from not being washed. I didn't chance smelling it.

We stopped in front of our cabin and he opened the door for me. Offering me his hand, I got out of the truck, juggling my crutches.

I had never wanted to be home as much as I then. I took in a deep breath and stared at my house. Two stories of wood stared back at me, but the air around me felt welcoming.

It took a while for my dogs to settle down, but they eventually calmed. Art, my black lab, wouldn't leave me alone, while India watched me from the corner of her eye on the couch.

My mother had decided to get a hotel room and she would be leaving Monday morning. She cooked us dinner, but left after it was finished. She had perfected her spaghetti over all these years it seemed. I took a nice long shower after she left, not wanting to think about anything but sleep.

I watched movies with my dad on the couch until midnight that night. We both fell asleep halfway during another episode of Bewitched. We watched Shutter Island first and we were very confused, but decided to just put in some old shows.

I woke up with Art whimpering against my hand. He licked it and I jumped up. I remembered another thing that happened three days ago in the forest. The dogs had licked my cuts. Art whimpered again and twirled in a circle.

"Wanna go out?" He ran towards the door. India also got up and joined Art at the door. I grabbed my crutches and swung myself forward, starting toward the door.

I opened the door and the dogs ran out. I sat on the porch, cradling my crutches in my lap. I thought of that night, remembering the pain in my ankle and it twitched at the thought. The night air picked at my sweatshirt and my sweat pants. I squinted to try and find the dogs. I nearly whistled for them, but they ran towards me at full speed. Then ran onto the porch and scratched at the door wildly.

"Whats wrong?" It was a rhetorical question. I looked out to the yard and saw a large figure. My heart sped up and I scrambled with my crutches. I nearly tripped reaching for doorknob and the dogs quickly ran inside.

I fell over, my ankle throbbing in protest. I looked over my shoulder and my heart began to beat faster then ever. The large black dog from three days ago was standing on my porch. My voice wouldn't work and my body didn't move. My brain wasn't functioning. It came back to kill me for sure this time.

It took steps toward me, the porch creaking under its weight. It lowered its head toward my arm. Putting its large skull under my arm, it lifted me upwards and I grabbed my crutches, thinking furiously. My legs became jello and my crutches barely saved me from falling again. The giant dog turned around and ran towards the yard again and disappeared.

I stood there for a moment in complete and utter shock. My heart wouldn't calm down. The wind nipped at my cheeks and I opened the door. Art and India were under blankets on the couch, shaking with fear. And just like them, I was shaking from head to toe, my legs giving out just as I reached the couch. I did not sleep that night. And neither did my dogs.