Stephanie's POV
The silence in the cabin was the worst part. It wasn't peaceful. It was heavy, like a blanket made of stone, smothering everything.
Cane was on the bed. He was alive. Henry had stitched the knife wound, cleaned him up. He was breathing steady. But he wasn't there. He hadn't spoken a word since we found him bleeding on the ground. Not when I screamed. Not when Henry and I hauled him inside. Not when Mabel cleaned the blood off his face.
He just lay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Like his mind had left his body behind.
I sat in a chair pulled right up to the bedside. My knees were pulled to my chest. Henry was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his face like granite.
"So you're saying," I said, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet, "you have no idea what he saw in there? What did this to him?"
