Dumping the bag onto the cobbles, I grabbed my Swiss Army knife from my back pocket and sliced into the plastic. Picking it up again, I tipped the contents into the large bins, coughing a little at the sweet scent of molasses and grain.
As the last of the feed cascaded, a shadow darted to the left. Something small ran in the darkness, banging into a table full of farm junk, knocking a rusty hoof-pick to the ground.
“Goddammit.” Crumpling up the empty bag, I tossed it onto the rubbish pile. The creature was most likely one of the feral cats Aunt Cassie kept to hunt mice.
I got that mice were a problem, but I didn’t like cats. Everything had a place in the food chain, and I wasn’t opposed to eating meat, but cats were cruel. They played with their food instead of killing it outright. They took pleasure in another’s misery.
You take pleasure in causing Hope misery—
I shut that thought up as fast as it arrived.
I didn’t like it.
But I couldn’t seem to stop it either.
Stalking forward, I followed where the shadow had run to. “If you’re busy killing, stop it.”
A scurry of footsteps ran into a stall where hay was stacked and waiting to be used as equine bedding.
I chased, fully expecting to catch a tabby with a mouse tail dripping like spaghetti from its lips.
Only, I froze as a girl in pink track pants and a grey hoodie slammed to a halt in front of the bales, trapped. Her eyes were wide as she spun to stare at me, her fingers linking and unlinking as if holding her own hand in support.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I checked my dinged-up watch. “It’s past midnight. You should be in bed.”
“I-I—”
“Go back to the bunks, Hope.” I crossed my arms.
Her forehead furrowed with false bravery. “You should be in bed too, you know.”
I snickered. “Nice try. I don’t have a bedtime. That rule never worked on me.”
She sighed, her long brown hair untethered and tangled around her shoulders. “Oh.”
Stale silence fell as we stared at each other. Once again, those awful prickles danced down my spine whenever her eyes landed on me. The guilt I’d been nursing since I’d yelled at her crushed my chest. I cleared my throat, doing my best to be rid of it. “You’ll be asked to leave if you’re found out of bed.”
She scuffed her pink slipper with a silver unicorn horn into the dusty floor. “That would be okay…I guess.”
My eyes narrowed. “You’re saying you want to go home?”
“I’m saying I don’t like sleeping in a room with others.”
I sucked in a breath, hating that we shared a similarity. “You don’t have a choice.”
I expected her to nod and turn tail back to the bunk room. Instead, her eyes flashed green. “I slept in the stable last night. No one noticed or cared.” She pointed at a striped blanket that used to be clean and folded on a bunk bed but was now covered in hay and scrunched up by the stable door.
“Wait. You slept out here…on your own?”
Her chin came up. “Why do you care?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t.”
She flinched. “Why are you always so mean?”
“Mean?” I pointed a finger at my chest. “Me? I’m not mean.”
“Yes, you are. All the time. I said I was sorry for being nosy at the diner. I know I annoy you. I know you don’t want me here. And I know you think I’m some stupid kid. But I’m only four years younger than you, and Keeko always says that girls mature faster than boys, so I’m probably like your age or older.” She squared her shoulders. “So you can’t tell me what to do.”
I’d forgotten how odd she was. How chatty she could be when we were alone. Last time we’d spoken without adult supervision, she’d told me about her dead mother, and she didn’t even know me.
Now, she’d just admitted she’d slept alone with feral cats and terrified mice for company.
God, if that didn’t make the guilt press even harder.
My heart thumped with confrontation, but I kept my steps calm and slow as I moved toward her. Words like ‘sorry’ and ‘I didn’t mean to yell’ battled with standing my ground against her strange stares. “I’m allowed to tell you what to do. I’m in charge here, and I say go back to bed.”
“You’re not in charge. Cassie is.”
“Yeah, and she’s not here, is she? So I’m boss.”
“You’re a bully.”
“What?” I bit the word, hating that she’d gotten under my skin and nailed my behaviour. If Mom knew how mean I’d been to her, she’d be furious. Then again, Aunt Cassie had told her about me blowing up at Hope on the first day, but Mom had just nodded as if she understood my temper and gave me a free pass to be cruel.