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Thirty-seven
Thirty-seven The whole cabin stank. Rotten meat, decay and blood. Brice kept his lips firmly closed, and still it stuck to the back of his throat. Ryann was where Brice had left her, sat next to Cathal. She had one hand under the blanket and the other raised in the air. Not to ward off the creature, but with her palm towards Brice and Keelin. But he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to let that thing win. It was facing him now. He could tell by the way the blanket moved, and by the bulge as it raised an arm. Almost like it, too, was telling them to get back. He wasn’t going to accept that from Ryann, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some monster order him around. Brice took a step forward. He told himself the tremble in his legs was from being cold and wet. His hand fell
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