Wild

by

Kim Pritekel
XenaNut@hotmail.com

You've asked me to write in this application for grad school about the one person who changed my life. Well, I imagine you've gotten plenty of good answers over the years to that question. Some people may have written about their mom or dad, a sibling, perhaps a neighbor, professor, or maybe just a friendly, neighborhood police officer.

Not in my story.

I write about Abigail Cohen, Abby to all who know and love her. I believe she was sent as an angel to earth to show me what real freedom is all about. This is my story; her story; and most importantly, our story.

Prologue

"Come on." The little brunette led the way through the trees, glancing often at her smaller companion. She had never seen a child roaming through the woods, and wondered if it would be okay to talk to Abby. She wasn't sure what her father would say, or if he'd get mad again. Deciding she didn't want to chance it, she'd keep the little blonde her own little secret.

* * *

14 years later...

Chapter 1

"Who let the dogs out! Who, who, who, who!" Abby Cohen grinned as she sang, blonde locks bouncing back and forth as she bobbed to the beat. She drove her small two-door Jetta through the winding roads that would lead to Maine's Wachiva Forest.

Finals over by two days, she had loaded up her car and driven from the family home in Greenwich, Connecticut, to the family cabin. She promised to air the place out and get it cleaned up and ready for a fun summer until her younger siblings finished school and her family could join her.

As she tapped the wheel with dancing fingers, she looked at her surroundings, watching as the trees passed, the extensive wooded area coming back to life after a harsh winter that had lasted far into spring, leaving plants and trees shocked and frozen when they should have been blooming and growing new life. Abby could tell that even though it was late May, she'd be taking a nice, hot bubble bath tonight. She smiled as she thought of her time alone at the cabin.

As much as she dearly loved her parents and four younger brothers and sisters, she would wallow in her isolation. Able to do whatever whenever, and not have to worry about dorm roommates or parents bugging her.

Abby sighed, changing the radio station as a string of commercials came on, then finally gave up. Opening her sun visor, she grabbed a CD at random, slid it into the car's player, and turned up the volume.

*****

A car was coming up the road, the unused road that led to the two cabins set a mile apart. Keen hearing listened, trying to place the make. Sure it wasn't the Wilkins' truck, a lithe body moved quickly through the trees, hiding behind massive trunks, and making an already thin body thinner behind the not-so-thick ones.

There, just coming up the road. A dark blue sedan. Making its winding way up the road, slowing around the numerous turns. A careful driver, not aggressive or impulsive. Must be a woman.

Not a sound was heard as the figure got closer to the road, watching to see which way the sedan would turn: left to the Wilkins' or right to the Cohen's. When the car turned right, a sharp intake of breath could be heard, unsettling some nearby birds, then the muffled steps as a shadow swept across the forest floor, a large, calloused hand resting on a rough tree trunk.

Blue eyes closed as the car pulled up into the drive, and a warm, familiar feeling stole over the crouched figure, forming a small smile. The figure watched as the door to the sedan opened, and a blonde head popped out, long hair blowing in the breeze that seemed to be a constant companion to the forest. Blue eyes opened further as that feeling, that know, filled her body.

"She's back," was barely heard, a whisper upon the whispering wind. "Spinney."

*****

Abby was still humming the song she'd been listening to as she rounded the corner to her parent's cabin. She looked up at it now, a soft smile lining her lips. She had so many incredible memories at this place, and it saddened her to know that her time there was coming to an end. She would be a junior in college next year, and knew that as more and more demands were made on her time, she would have less of it for her family.

Her parents had bought the original small, three-room cabin when the blonde had been four years old. Over the years, they had added onto it as their family grew, creating the wood and glass beauty that stood before her now. Five bedrooms for five kids and two parents, and just a cozy environment for a fun-filled summer or special holiday season.

Abby looked around, seeing the sun-splashed landscape. The lush forest around the cabin looked as it always did, trees as far as the eyes could see with the lake and dock out not twenty yards from the house.

Suddenly the smile slid off her face and she began to look around, eyes scanning the dense forest off to her left. She felt like she was being watched, and an odd, unsettling feeling settled over her. Brows drawn, she turned in a small circle, searching out something that she wasn't aware, just . . . something.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing out over the lake and bouncing off the surrounding foothills. The squawk of far-off birds was her only reply.

Deciding to shrug it off, she turned back to her car, opened the trunk, and began to lift out her bags of clothing that would get her through three months, and the food she'd brought to last her for the next week. Her folks would provide the rest of the food for the summer once they came.

Humming loudly and badly, knowing there wasn't a soul around to hear, she made her way up the dirt walk that led to the wrap-around porch. Digging out her key and holding open the screen door with her butt as she maneuvered around, she juggled the things she held to unlock the heavy door and push it open.

Abby wrinkled her nose as the stale air of the place, closed up for six months, met her nose.

"Yuck," she muttered as she dropped her bags and headed over to the alarm system, disabling it before a silent alarm sent dozens of cop cars swarming around the cabin.

*****

A squirrel scampered by as the dark figure moved yet closer, hiding behind a small thicket of trees that was not even fifteen feet from the cabin.

Inside, the blonde could be seen unpacking a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. She watched as a package of meat was taken out, a plastic bottle of something, though it read Coke, and a jar that read Prego.

The figure moved to the other window so she could see better. She studied the face of the angel that she had dreamed of for years . . .

*****

*****

Abby sat on the recliner her mom had bought her father last year, plate of baby carrots with a blob of Ranch dressing on the side, and put her feet up on the attached ottoman.

Humming her delight for relaxation, she grabbed a carrot, dragging it through the white goo until it was half covered, and then smiled at the satisfying crunch the root made between her teeth. She loved carrots. Her mom used to tell her she'd turn orange if she continued to eat as many as she did.

Grabbing the remote from the small table next to the chair, she flipped on the TV, and happily waded through the hundreds of channels that the satellite dish on the roof provided. Her dad was a sucker for every single sports channel that was offered, and who was she to disagree?

Settling on ESPN, she continued to eat her carrots, her feet tapping together as she nearly bounced from her excitement. Summer break, a whole week completely alone, and another 4.0 GPA to add to her files. She and Kyle had broken up last semester, but that wasn't exactly a storm cloud in her sunny day. Just a detail.

When a whole slew of commercials came on, Abby growled and grabbed the remote, flipping through again. She truly loved channel surfing. With her dad as master and sovereign ruler of the remote control, she never got to choose. Not today.

"Ha ha!" she grinned, stopping on an infomercial for ladies' nose hair clippers. Almost mesmerized, she watched as the host demonstrated the shiny silver tool. Head slightly cocked to the side, the blonde watched in fascination as the tool was inserted into a rather hairy woman's nose, and quickly yanked out again. "Ew! Okay, yeah. Time to change."

Abby wrinkled her nose. "Oh, creepy." She changed the channel again.

*****

The figure moved around the large cabin, hearing talking within. She listened, trying to see if it was Spinney. She hadn't seen anyone else go into the cabin, but there was a man's voice, too.

She moved around the stand of trees to look into another window, and bent down, holding her weight up with a hand on the rough bark of a tree, and the hard ground beneath her.

Not a sound was made when she moved. Even a humming bird that was feasting on a birdfeeder didn't move as it sucked down the sugary, colored water.

The form stood again, one blue eye peeking out from behind her hiding place. Inside, she saw Spinney sitting in a chair, her feet up, and an empty plate on her lap. She was smiling, then her head was thrown back as she laughed outright at something she was looking at. Blue eyes tried to focus on what it was that humored the blonde so much, and spied a black box with a cord running from it to out of sight. She realized it was probably a TV. She had seen them a few times in store windows when she was traveling.

Her gaze moved back up to Spinney's, looking into those bright green eyes, and wishing, hoping, and wanting to see them up close again. Wanting them to see her.

"Soon, Spinney," she whispered. "Soon."

*****

*****

The blue-eyed girl sat in her lean-to consisting of a tarp she found and a large piece of canvas that she'd had with her during her travels. The pieces of material were tied just outside a rock overhang that served as part of the shelter. She hoped it would keep her protected from the summer rains, anyway.

She looked around at her meager belongings. A small stack of books, either 'borrowed' or left over from her childhood. A small fire ring was just outside the shelter; she wasn't too keen on seeing just how fireproof this stuff was. A rolled up bedroll was in the corner, dirty and grungy from years of use and very few washings. It was hard and flat, but at least it kept her off the ground. For the most part. Maybe she’d take it out later and bang it against a rock a few times.

Looking outside the small opening to her home, she saw the charred ruins of what had once been the cabin where she had grown up. After her father had died, she had packed up everything she owned and made for the rails. When she returned to Wachiva Forest three months ago, she had found it burned to the ground. She had an idea who had done it, but left it be. She knew he'd be back around soon enough, anyway.

"Bastard," she muttered as she removed one of her three sweatshirts, tucking it into a ball to lean back on so she could read.

As she opened the book on Wildlife Preservation by Judith Duncan, fourth edition, she looked over at the black rubble again. Someday she wanted to rebuild the cabin. As soon as she was able to get the supplies, she would. May have to go back onto the rails for that. See, it's called a Touch'n'Go. You see something from the tracks, like a lumber yard or even a private house, and you jump from the train while it's moving real slow. Run over to the place, grab what you saw, and then run like the devil to get back on and out of there.

Yep. A Touch'n'Go would definitely be necessary.

Settling back onto the sweatshirt, she opened the large hardback and began to read.

*****

Abby stood, stretching her screaming back. Sitting for the long six hour drive from her parent's house, not to mention the drive there from college in Boston, and then sitting on her rump to watch TV. Yeah, not smart.

She rinsed her dish under the faucet, then put it into the dishwasher. It was late, and she was dead tired. Walking over to the front door of the cabin, she made sure the lock was engaged, and set the alarm. Then stopped. The hair on the back of her head prickled to life.

The blonde drew the curtains over the glass in the door aside, and looked out into the near pitch black night. Her father had put up a light post near the drive, but it only illuminated about 25 yards around it, leaving everything else to the moonlight. Stands of trees surrounded the house on two sides, and at night they looked like giant soldiers standing guard over the cabin. But they could just as easily shield an enemy.

She walked over to the window over the sink in the kitchen, looking into the small but dense stand of trees nearby; still nothing.

Abby could almost imagine a pair of eyes on her as she looked into the inky blackness. Though she could see nothing, she somehow knew that someone or something was out there. She wasn't one to believe in fairy tales or monsters, but this was ridiculous, and she couldn't shake the feeling. She couldn't identify it as fear, really. But she was afraid.

With a shiver, she let the lacy curtains fall back into place, and headed upstairs to the second floor where her parent's bedroom was. She didn't want to go on up to the attic for her own bed; tonight she needed the security of their familiar smell.

As she climbed onto the large bed, kicking her slippers off to smack against the far wall, the blonde pulled back the comforter and sheets, and sank into their warmth and comfort.

"God. I feel like a damn five year old," she muttered, then shut off the light.

*****

The figure moved through the dark once more, making sure all was well. She saw the lights on the second floor dim, then die out, blackness filling the windows now. She sighed, wishing she could wish Spinney a good night.

Chapter 2

The darkness hid the figure well. The moon was low, but not especially bright, which was good.

"Yes, yes," he panted, re-doubling his efforts to keep tiny hands within the grasp of his large, sweaty ones. "This way, my sweet. This way." He hated the awful sound of the leaves and dirt being disturbed as he dragged his burden. That bum leg of his wasn't making it any easier, either. But, a job worth doing was a job worth doing well. That's what his father had told him.

*****

The prone girl cradled her head in her open palms as she looked up at the rock ceiling of her shelter. Her belly was full of fresh rabbit and a few wild berries. She was glad it was summer time, 'cause all the good fruit would start to ripen up.

She smiled to herself as she thought of her day. She had been lucky in the hunt, as well as lucky in seeing her friend again. Spinney had long since gone to bed, but she was still very much awake and alive in the girl's mind. She closed her eyes, conjuring up the blonde's face again behind dark lids.

That soft-looking mouth that she knew would say sweet things to her, just as it had done as a child. Spinney would smile and be so happy to see her again, and she couldn't wait.

It had been so long, so very long. She had waited for 14 years to say hello again. Maybe she could do that tomorrow? Maybe not. She'd have to see what Spinney was up to. She wanted to allow the blonde some time alone first.

Instead, she would ease her pounding heart with memories . . .

*****

*****

The figure smiled, almost laughing again as she remembered the look on Spinney's young face. Oh, she was so much fun.

Within moments, however, the smile slid right off . . .

*****

*****

Abby stirred, then flinched as bright light hit her closed lids. With a soft groan of protest, she rolled over and opened her eyes. Sunlight stretched through the room, long, greedy fingers touching everything in its path.

"Morning already?" she grumbled, not wanting to be up yet, but knowing that since she'd awakened, chances of falling back asleep were slim to none. Stretching her short, but powerful body with a squeak, she swung her legs off the high mattress, and planted bare feet solidly on the floor.

Finally standing, she strained her ears, then heard it again.

"Shit!" Running through the door, and then flinging her body around the balustrade to the stairs, she just barely made the phone before the answering machine picked up. "Hello?" she said, breathless.

"Honey? Are you okay?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Yes, mom. I just had to run to get the damn phone. When are you guys going to get the service hooked up to the upstairs rooms? I nearly lost a toe on the couch to grab it."

A soft chuckle floated through the line. "I know, honey. I'll talk to your dad about it again, okay? So how is everything? Cabin okay?"

"Yeah, it's great." The blonde plopped down on the toe-stubbing couch in question, folding her legs under her body. "It looks great, nothing's amiss."

"Good, good. It looks like we're going to have to come up on Saturday instead of Friday," Sherry Cohen explained, disappointment evident in her soft-spoken voice.

"Oh," Abby said, halfway excited. Another day alone. Woohoo! "Why?"

"Well, turns out I have a meeting with the principal Friday afternoon about the new Spanish class I'm starting next year. Of course, it couldn't wait until later in the summer like everything else does." She clicked her tongue. "Man drives me nuts."

"Mom, hate to break it to you, but you're already nuts." The blonde giggled.

"Well, you come from that same tree, sweet pea." Sherry smiled. She adored her oldest daughter, and could not wait to see her on the weekend. "Well, if everything's okay, I guess I'll go."

"Okay. Oh, wait," Abby said, deciding to ask about the weird sensation she'd been having. "Mom, did anyone new move up here? Are the Wilkinses still there?"

"Ah, no, not as far as I know. Why?"

"Well, nothing. Well, okay. Since I got here yesterday, I've had the strangest feeling that I'm being watched. It's kind of creepy. I mean, it may very well just be a deer or something. Maybe I've disturbed his winter stash of food, or something. But still . . ."

"Are you okay, honey?" Sherry asked in concern. "Do you want me to call Jim for you?"

"Oh, no. If anything goes wrong or anything, I can always call the Wilkinses myself. I just wondered. I have no doubt I'm being a total idiot, just scaring myself. But, still. Thought I'd ask." Abby twisted the phone cord around her fingers, staring up at the support beams in the ceiling.

"Okay. Well, if you need anything, Abby, you tell me. Okay? Do not hesitate to call. Anything funny. Got me?" Her mother's words were an order, but Abby knew she was just worried.

"Yes, ma'am," she promised. "I'll see you guys Saturday, then. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetie."

When the blonde hung up the phone, she looked around, trying to decide what to do today. She could go read by the dock, or go for a walk through the woods. Oh, that sounded great!

Making her decision, she hurried back up the stairs and found a pair of jeans and a light-weight henley. Lacing her hiking boots, she was ready.

*****

Using the toe of her large boot, the figure tried to bury the evidence of her morning release, not wanting any uninvited guests to come sniffing around. She stopped, mid kick when she heard the snapping of a twig probably fifty yards to the north. Her head snapped in that direction, and she quickly ducked behind a tree, watching.

Just over the ridge, a lone figure became visible, a long stick swinging gently at the figure's side. Blue eyes narrowed, and instinctively she knew it was Spinney.

She smiled, white teeth reflecting off the early morning sun. She ducked to another tree, matching the blonde's pace, soundlessly following her through the forest. She wanted to make sure the girl was okay, and didn't fall or find anything that could hurt her.

The figure's heart was pounding as she watched, loving to watch Spinney do anything. The blonde could be standing stock still and she'd be a happy camper. The blonde was whistling, though what the song was, was a mystery.

Spinney walked toward the small, natural spring that the figure often bathed in. She felt herself becoming antsy, afraid that the blonde would stumble upon her home and find evidence of her existence. She couldn't be found - the Boogie Man would find her, then.

With stealth borne of years of hiding and moving along like a ghost, she followed Spinney to the cliffs that overlooked a small, basically abandoned, old town.

"Wow," the blonde breathed, which startled the figure. She hadn't heard another's voice in nearly two years.

*****

Abby looked down at the old town, having heard about it from her father before. She really wanted to go exploring, but feared she'd lose her way back home. She hadn't wandered through these woods in a few years, and didn't trust her instincts anymore.

Smiling up at the warm sun that kissed her face, she stopped, her body becoming very still, the smile frozen.

There it was again. That feeling. She felt chilled, the sun turning to ice as her blood ran cold. Fear clutched at her chest like a vice, leaving her short of breath.

Abby turned, scanning her surroundings, seeing nothing.

"Hello?" she called, her voice echoing down in the silent, deserted valley below. She heard movement in the trees, then movement caught the corner of her eyes, and her head snapped in the direction to see a red fox scamper out of his hiding place.

"Goddamn fox." She placed a hand to her pounding chest and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths. Maybe that's what I felt. Nothing more. She opened her eyes, looking around one last time. The feeling was gone. She was alone.

*****

Sensing Spinney's discomfort, the figure shrunk back into the trees, deciding to lay this one out. The blonde would be okay watched from afar. Nothing would happen to her. Ever.

Bright blue eyes watched the clouds moving overhead, knowing that storms would soon be coming. She could smell them in the air. Heading down to the far end of the lake where she wouldn't be seen, she kicked off her worn boots, the shoe strings too thin to hold tight now, but they were something. She peeled off the three layers of socks she had on. This served two purposes: one, it kept her feet warm and pretty dry, and two, it helped make the oversized men's boots fit better.

Stripping down to smooth, white skin, she made her way into the water, mindful of rocks at the bottom of the lake floor. Though the bottom of her feet were like leather, it still wasn't nice to pick lake crud out of the cracks of her skin.

She closed her eyes, moaning in delight as the cool water washed over her. Since her dip hadn't been planned, she didn't have her bar of soap, made from lard, so she'd have to make due. For now, she'd just enjoy the feel. It was a bit cold yet to be swimming around naked, but it was certainly refreshing.

*****

Still feeling his body thrum, he closed his eyes, sighing in contentment as he sat on the forest floor, blade of his Bowie hunting knife glinting off the dying sunlight. His crotch was still slightly damp from when he'd lost control too early. Pissed, he'd done his job without the release he sought.

Oh, well. The job was done, and he stuck his hand in the pocket of his worn denim jacket, smiling at the feel of the soft material, though something slightly slimy met his probing fingers. Wet and slimy, still slightly warm.

This made him sigh again, a smile curving over his crooked features. Delight for later.

Opening dark eyes, he looked down and saw the small, white thumb connected to a tiny hand that was not quite hidden in the shrubbery, and realized he needed to do a better job. Wiping the knife on the leaves nearby, he stuck it in his boot, and went to work.

*****

The lone figure roamed through the forest, hair still slightly damp, top layer of sweatshirt slung over her shoulder. She looked up, enjoying the feel of the almost warm night breeze brush against her face. She sniffed the air, loving the smell of the natural honeysuckle that grew sporadically through the forest.

"Nice," she breathed, humming quietly to herself, then picked up the tune in words. "El coqui, el coqui a mi me encanta," she hummed a few lines, then continued. "Por las noches al ir a acostarme . . ."

She smiled at the memory of being taught that lullaby.

*****

"It's el noches, not nachos!"

*****

"Es tan lindo el cantar del coqui; Por las noches al ir a acostarme; Me adormece cantandome asi; Coqui, coqui, coqui, qui, qui, qui;" Abby smiled at the comforting words her mother used to sing to her, and had taught her as a very small child. She hummed the little tune as she, once again, stared up at the ceiling in her parent's room. She needed the extra added comfort of the old lullaby after the day's events.

She felt nearly scared out of her mind! All day long, save for a brief reprieve after the fox had darted past her and into the dense forest, she had felt eyes on her. Even going to school in a big city like Boston, she had never felt so violated.

She was truly scared now. She had considered calling her mom, and talking to her until she fell asleep, but then rationalized that she was being childish. They'd be there soon enough, and she would just stay closer to the cabin. Maybe she'd get her dad's gun out tomorrow. Besides, she knew that she’d scare the hell out of the elder Cohen, and really didn’t want to do that, put her mother through that when there wasn’t really anything Sherry could do.

The blonde sighed. She hated guns. But, if it would make her feel safer, then so be it.

Humming the lullaby once more, she finally drifted off to sleep.

*****

*****

Blue eyes fluttered open, non-seeing for a moment, the cavernous surroundings of her shelter slowly coming into focus. Then reality did.

She wanted to cry. A dream; it had been another goddamn dream.

She sat up, rubbing her face with calloused hands, trying to scrub away all the leftover sleepiness and sadness.

So many times she'd dreamt of meeting up with Spinney again, and now that she was so close, so very close, she had no courage. The blonde had been at the cabin for four days, and had not yet been contacted.

"Shit," she sighed, wondering what to do. For some odd reason, she felt afraid. She felt intimidated and unsure. She knew that Spinney had a good life with good parents who loved and cared for her. After all this time, and the realization that comes with growing up, would Spinney still find her so interesting? Would she still be interested in being her friend?

Or would the blonde think she was weird and scary? Living all alone in the woods. Living off the land like some animal. A specter in the trees.

Shaking these thoughts from her mind, she pulled herself up, ignoring the screaming of her back from too many years spent sleeping on the ground. She was twenty years old, and felt fifty half the time.

She tugged on a sweatshirt to ward off the early morning chill, and headed off to find some place to relieve herself. She'd drunk too much water last night before bed, and felt like she'd burst.

*****

Abby awoke, deciding that today was the last day she'd be afraid. She was up and showered, dressed and ready to enjoy a day reading by the lake. She had packed herself a nice brunch, all fitted neatly in a basket her mom had buried with the holiday decorations, of all places.

Basket and book in hand, she felt the slight weight that made the basket just slightly unbalanced, and was glad of it. Not scared today, no way, no how.

Whistling as she made her way down to the colorful dock, she let her eyes roam around, looking for anything remotely suspicious, then grabbed the fold up chair that rested near the side of the cabin. Hoisting it under her arm, she continued on her way.

It was a good day. The sun was out, the air warm, and her fingers itched to dig into the book she'd brought with her.

"Yes, this is certainly the life." The blonde grinned. She had the basket set on the dock near her feet, and opened the folding chair, looking up to see which direction the sun was shining, and positioned the chair that way. She wanted to make sure she had the absolute best light.

Plopping down in the plastic chair, she reached into the basket and grabbed the tube of sun block, SPF 45.

She squirted the fragrant, white cream onto her palm, and rubbed her hands around, searching the lake as she began to apply it liberally to her arms and shoulders, bared for the first time that summer by her tank top.

She hummed contentedly as the cream disappeared into her skin. She closed her eyes as she began to smear some on her face.

*****

The figure made her way down the line of trees that would lead to the lake. She saw the white speck down on the dock that she knew was Spinney. The breeze blew around her legs, wrapping winter-dried leaves around her ankles, only to flutter away as she made her way through them.

She hid behind a tree when Spinney turned to rub her hand over her shoulder. Blue eyes watched this, wondering what the blonde was doing. She moved closer, and saw that Spinney was smoothing something white on her skin, and wondered if it was lotion. She had a tube of it once. A long time ago.

The figure found her way closer to the dock, resting her palm against the trunk, fingers kneading at the bark it found there, feeling as the rough mulch dug into her palm and finger pads. She didn't care. She was in sight of Spinney again. Oh, how she wanted to see her again.

*****

Abby tossed the sun block back into the basket, seeing her weapon of choice when she did. With a confident smile, she grabbed her book, opened it up to the first page, and settled in to read, cursing quietly as she smudged the lens of her sunglasses with the greasy suntan lotion.

As her eyes scanned the page, suddenly she felt that strange . . . feeling, again. She looked up at the lake, trying to listen to the day, but heard nothing. Turning her eyes back to the page, she scanned until she found her place.

*****

The figure gripped the tree even tighter, fighting the urge to just jump out from behind it, and say, 'Spinney! How are ya?' Instead, she stayed put, her heart pounding in her ears, indecision making her blood rush faster.

This would be the perfect chance for her to say hello to her old friend again. For her to put her dreams and day dreams to rest, and exchange them for new, fresh memories.

Blue eyes squeezed shut, a pink tongue sliding out to rake across suddenly very dry lips. She took several deep breaths and opened her eyes again.

*****

Abby followed the page as she turned it, starting at the first line of the new page, and making quick progress down through the opening sequences of the story. She lifted her leg to cross over the other when she froze.

Floating on the soft breeze.

"Hi, Spinney."

Abby leapt out of her chair, heart flying up to her throat. She heard a distant splash as her paperback fell into the water.

There before her, standing at the mouth of the dock, not ten feet away, stood her ghost.

Chapter 3

Abby followed her instincts and instruction from her father. She grabbed her keys from her pocket, never once taking her eyes off the strange girl who stood before her at the end of the dock. Placing three of the sharp points between her fingers to use as weapons, she held her arm out in front of her.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, briefly eyeing the dock around her. She was trapped. Water on three sides, and this crazy woman in front of her. She focused on the woman, trying to think. Long, disheveled dark hair, wrapping around her shoulders and face, giving her a wild appearance, though the woman's posture was calm and focused. She took in extremely baggy, dirty black pants that puddled around over-sized boots.

Her gaze drifted back up to the old, worn out, thin in places, sweater, and finally up into blue eyes that were looking into hers.

"Who are you?" the blonde asked again.

"You don't remember me?" the brunette asked, and Abby was amazed as her entire face seemed to fall.

"Should I?" she asked, still holding the keys out in front of her, her eyes darting to the picnic basket where she had left the gun, forgetting about it in her fear and surprise.

"It's me, Zac." The brunette pointed to herself, blue eyes wide, looking shocked. Zac felt a profound disappointment as she watched Spinney standing there, holding sharp keys out toward her like the brunette would actually hurt her. "Spinney?" she said, her voice quiet as she hoped that the special name for the blonde would make her remember. How could she have possibly forgotten?

"I don't know you," Abby exclaimed, her heart about to beat out of her chest as fear clasped it in a vice. Again she tried to ponder her options: Go for a swim? Try and run past the taller girl? Stay and grab the gun? The strange girl who called herself Zac didn't seem dangerous, somehow. She stood there, shoulders slumped, and her hands buried in deep pockets. Was she hiding a weapon in there? "Let me see your hands," she ordered, her voice shaky.

Zac looked at her, confused, but slowly slid her hands from her pockets, holding them out, palms up. The blonde looked at them. She could see how nervous Spinney was. I don't understand.

Feeling better to see those large hands were empty, green eyes darted back to blue. "How do I know you? And why do you keep calling me Spinney? Who is that? Do you have me confused with someone else?" Abby lowered the keys, feeling innately that she wouldn't be hurt, but freaked out nonetheless.

Those expressive eyes seemed to fall again, looking down for a moment, then meeting Abby's again.

"We used to play when we were kids." Her voice was so quiet, barely audible.

"What? As kids? What are you talking about? Why don't I remember you?"

Zac shrugged, but said nothing. Abby stared at the girl, then reached into her pocket for the ever-present cell phone.

"You stay there." She pointed at Zac, then looked down at the keypad to dial her parents' number.

Zac watched as the girl grabbed something from her pocket, then realized what it was. Her eyes widened in surprise and fear.

No cops! No Boogie Man!

Abby dialed, then looked up, gasping when she saw nothing. She was alone. She looked around, frantically trying to find where the strange girl went. She even looked toward the lake, seeing if the girl had made a dive for it.

Nothing.

"What the hell?" she breathed, feeling all the more frightened. "I'm going crazy." Her train of thought was interrupted by her mother's voice. "Mom? Oh my god. I'm losing my mind!" Watchful green eyes scoured the landscape as she spoke, desperately trying to find any sign or trace of the girl who called herself Zac.

*****

Zac, once out of earshot, ran through the forest, her eyes burning as tears streamed down her cheeks. The sensation felt strange, like she was using dry, chapped lips for the first time. She could only remember crying once before.

She climbed the bluff that she used as a perch to watch over things, and over the Cohen cabin. Hastily sitting down, she swiped at her eyes, leaving dirt smudges along her cheeks, and sniffled.

Fresh tears poured down, and she brought her hands up, covering her face as a sob wracked free, startling a bull frog who was croaking nearby.

*****

"Wait, wait. Honey, calm down. What are you talking about? An intruder? In the house?" Sherry Cohen was nearly beside herself as she listened to her daughter's impassioned voice on the other end of the line, the mother pacing nervously like a mamma bear unable to get to her cub.

"No! Well, not exactly. But she just showed up, out of nowhere! God, I was so scared," Abby exclaimed, sitting back in the chair, but turning it so she faced land. She wasn't about to be snuck up upon again. "I was reading, like I told you, and she was just . . . just . . . there!" She brought a trembling hand up to her mouth, covering her lips as wide green eyes looked out into the woods. "Like some sort of mountain woman or something. It was so strange."

"Honey, I want you to listen to me," Sherry said, her voice stern but caring. "You need to call the police. Who knows who this girl is. She could be dangerous."

Abby thought back to Zac, and deep in her heart, she didn't feel she was. Those eyes, so brilliantly blue, were seemingly filled with the innocence of a child. She looked so genuinely hurt when the blonde had said she didn't know who she was. That look almost haunted her.

"No," she said, surprised as the word just sort of fell out of her mouth.

"What? No? Abby . . ."

"No. She's not dangerous." What are you doing??!!

"Wait, I thought you said you didn't know her?" Sherry was beginning to get impatient now. Her daughter had called, frightened out of her mind, damn near scaring her mother out of hers, and now she says there's no threat? "Abby, this is ridiculous-"

"Mom, did I have a playmate when I was a kid? Maybe someone here at the cabin?" The blonde remembered Zac's words: We used to play when we were kids.

"What? A playmate?" Mrs. Cohen was completely confused now. "What does that have to do with this strange woman?" She sat down on the couch, truly worried now. She motioned for her husband to come over, grabbing a notepad, scribbling off a quick note telling him to get her cell phone from the charger.

"She said something about us playing as kids. Did I play with anyone here? At the cabin?" Abby drew her brows, a headache already beginning to pound dimly at the back of her head.

"Well, let me think." Sherry took her mind back through the years that they'd owned the cabin, trying to think of any single thing that the girl could be talking about. "Well, when you were real little, you had an imaginary friend you used to talk about."

"What? An imaginary friend?" Blonde brows drew further down.

"Oh, yes." Sherry chuckled. "Shoot, we teased you about that for a while. Finally one day you just stopped talking about her."

"Did she have a name?"

"Oh, gosh. I don't remember what that would have been, now. I don't recall hearing about her since you were maybe, oh, eight or nine. But you always used to talk about her bright blue eyes." Sherry smiled into the receiver, remembering an excited six year old.

Abby felt her stomach drop and her hands get sweaty.

"Bright blue eyes? Mom, did she have a name she used to call me?" Green eyes closed as the blonde was afraid to hear what her mother would say. God, I really have gone crazy.

"Hmm, let me think. It started with an s, I think . . ."

"Spinney?" came the weak reply.

"That's it!" Sherry smiled. "Spinney. Though I never understood where you got that."

Abby felt sick now. "Oh, god," she moaned, her hand running through her hair. "Was her name Zac?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, uh, that sounds about right." Sherry was utterly baffled. "Honey, what's this all about?"

"Her name was Zac. She called me Spinney, and she had bright blue eyes. Mom," she said, near tears now. "Am I losing my mind?"

Sherry sat there, unable to speak, not sure what to say if she could. What was going on? "Honey, I want you to stay with the Wilkins’s until we get there Saturday, okay?" She waved at her husband, Adam, to call their long-time friends on the cell. "Your dad is calling them now. I don't want you staying there. I wish you'd let me call the police, honey. Just let them look around, just to give us all a piece of mind."

"No! No cops, mom. It's not necessary. I'll go with Jim, but no cops. I think she's harmless." I just don't know if she actually exists. "She just disappeared as quickly and quietly as she appeared," she muttered, not understanding.

*****

Zac watched as a white and orange truck pulled up to the cabin, a rugged-looking man getting out. She recognized him from the cabin about a mile down the lake. He walked over to the home and knocked on the door. It opened, and he went inside.

She had watched as Spinney had talked on the phone, sitting on the dock where she'd left her. Her heart was heavy, and it hurt. She felt a knot still in her throat, even once her tears had dried up. She was waiting for the boogie men to come, but they hadn't. Only the guy in the truck.

Who had Spinney called?

As if the blonde had heard, she hurried out of the cabin, followed by the man, a bag in her hand. She walked over to the truck, but stopped at the door of it, her hand on the handle, and looked out into the woods.

Zac's breath caught as it seemed those green eyes were staring right at her. She held her breath, watching to see what would happen. She knew that there was no possible way for Spinney to see her on the bluff, but still . . .

A few bloodless moments passed, then the blonde opened the truck door, jumped in, and with a muted drone, the truck drove away.

*****

Abby sat next to Jim Wilkins, her bag on her lap as he pulled out of the yard of the Cohen's cabin. She watched out the side window, her eyes peering into the dark thicket of woods.

She felt strange, like she didn't have that feeling anymore. She knew no way to put it into words, but knew she could feel when she was watched. Right now she wasn't.

The blonde couldn't help but wonder who the hell this Zac girl was, and what her imaginary friend had to do with things. Was this girl a ghost? She looked so real! She looked as real as Abby herself was. Was she something that she conjured up in her mind? The mind of a lonely child playing in the woods?

With a sigh, she concentrated on the road before them.

*****

He stroked a white thigh, just a sprinkling of hair smattered across it, as if she hadn't shaved in a couple days. That was okay. He could handle that. He preferred the smooth softness of a child, but this would do.

Dark eyes looked up into terrified brown ones. A smile spread across his face, pink tongue poking out between missing teeth, rotten and pungent. He could already feel himself respond to what he knew lay ahead. Blonde hair, cut a little too short for his tastes, but silky and beautiful. Forever that way. His eyes traveled down, real slow like, over the face, then down the neck, bare, white skin that opened up to the expanse of a chest, small breasts. How he liked them, if none at all. They were small, so he could appreciate this one.

That tongue licked chapped lips.

*****

Abby stretched out on the twin bed that resided on the opposite side of the room to Marie Wilkins. The twelve year old slept on peacefully, while the blonde stared at the ceiling, her body tucked under the covers, her arms behind her head.

Her mind was whirling on the events of the day, as well as the last few days. She was going to stay with the Wilkins’ until Saturday, when her parents would be coming up to the cabin. It had taken some persuasion for Jim Wilkins to not grab his hunting dogs and go search the woods. Abby didn't want Zac to be harmed, and if there was no Zac, she didn't want others to think she had lost her mind. She was already tempted to check her own take on reality after her conversation with her mother.

So she lay there in that small bed, in the even smaller, cramped bedroom, and thought about the mysterious girl. Who was she? Her mother remembered Zac, and supposedly the blonde had talked about her as a child. Why didn't she remember?

She turned to her side, staring at the wall, hands curled up under her chin. Was this girl a figment of her imagination still? Was she even real or alive? Abby didn't believe in ghosts, but now she was beginning to wonder. Apparently, the blonde was the only one who had seen her. Upon talking with Jim's wife, Ava, no one had seen or heard from a dark-haired girl. Abby tried to think of how old the girl looked. Probably not much older or younger than herself. She looked as though she had been in those woods forever, dirty and weathered. Obviously not someone who had spent her life in a warm cabin or house somewhere.

What if Zac was a ghost? What if at some time she had been killed, or had gotten lost and died from exposure? What if she had fallen into the lake and drowned, destined to forever roam these woods?

Abby shivered, thinking her scenarios were ridiculous, but they disturbed her all the same. Why her? Had she totally made up this apparition in her mind as a child, and it was still there in her sub-consciousness? Had she been so lonely at the cabin that she'd conjured her up again?

"That's ridiculous," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "So who is she?"

She had realized in the two days she'd been with the Wilkins’ that she hadn't felt that, that, well . . . feeling. She knew she wasn't being watched, and though calming, it was slightly disconcerting.

*****

Zac wandered through the woods, looking out over the lake, her hand on the trunk of a tree. The water was calm, the surrounding woods and foothills reflecting off its glassy surface. She picked up a small rock, and threw it, breaking that perfect picture, turning that upside down world into ripples that spread out.

Felt a little like she did. She was torn up inside, disappointment being a nasty bedmate.

Spinney had been gone for two days, and the brunette missed her. Despite what had happened on the dock, and the obvious fear that Zac had instilled in the girl, she still missed having her presence around. She hadn't been able to feel Spinney since she'd been whisked away in that orange and white truck. She felt empty again. Now even the blonde's memory couldn't keep Zac company.

She turned away from the lake and walked some more, knowing her little furry buddy with the big, bushy tail, was following her. He was scampering from tree to tree, wiggling his nose, and cleaning his face with reddish brown paws at every limb. She looked up, seeing Teddy sitting up there, beady black eyes looking down at her.

"Hey, little fella," she said, waving to him, hearing a squeak in return. The squirrel's jerky movement followed it. Zac chuckled and moved on, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her pants. The sun was hot today, but she dare not leave too many layers at home. She knew that she had to conserve her body heat and not allow herself to get too cold. When night came, her body heat would drop substantially, and she'd be cold. So, she plowed on with the pants, boots, and two sweatshirts.

Just up ahead, she saw the edge of the cliff and stopped, not wanting to get too close. Just beyond was the ghost town, called "Spectreville" by her dad. It was haunted, an old lumber town back in the nineteenth century. It had been abandoned for seventy years or more.

The place scared Zac. She heard noises from there all the time, and it's said that when people venture inside, they never come back out again.

Shivering in the warm May sun, she hurried away from the scene below her, and continued on through the woods. Maybe she'd start making maps again. That's what she used to do to keep herself busy. She would tear out a sheet of paper in one of her books and draw maps. She'd map out the entire area, including each little stump, large set of rocks, anything.

Yeah. That's what she could do. That would keep her mind busy, and she wouldn't have to think about Spinney.

"Oh, Spinney," she moaned into the unfeeling forest.

*****

Abby was following Marie's trail back to the cabin, a stack of freshly cut wood in her arms. She watched as the pre-teen stacked it neatly next to the house, and followed suit. She hissed as a small piece of wood snagged into her finger.

"Damn." She picked at it, hating splinters.

"You okay?" Marie Wilkins asked, looking up at the girl she had idolized since she was a small child. Abby Cohen was so smart, and pretty and fun. She loved that the blonde girl was sharing her room right now, and wished she wasn't going back to her own cabin tomorrow.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you guys have tweezers?" asked hopeful green eyes. Marie nodded.

"Uh huh. In the bathroom upstairs. In the cabinet over the sink. Want me to get them for you?"

Abby smiled, seeing the hero worship shining. "No, I can get them. Thanks," she said and hurried inside.

That girl drove her nuts. She was a nice kid, but she followed her around everywhere she went, constantly asking questions. She had definitely become more annoying than she had been last summer.

The blonde hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and opened the cabinet, finding the metal tool immediately. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, she began to concentrate on trying to pull the bugger out.

She grimaced as the sharp tips of the tweezers pulled at the skin of her fingertip. As she worked, her mind began to wander. She wanted so badly to just go home. The Wilkinses had been so nice, and she'd known them forever, but still, she wanted her own cabin with her own things.

Abby thought about just going home, but decided against it. There was still the question of this Zac person. As she had thought about it in the past few days, she began to wonder if that feeling of being watched was purely linked to Zac. Had it been her for the first few days the blonde had been at the cabin? Why? Why had the brunette been stalking around the place? What did she mean to do?

"Ow!" Abby pulled the splinter out and looked at it, holding it up to the light that streamed in from the small window above the bathtub. Cleaning the tweezers off into the trashcan under the toilet paper dispenser, she put the tweezers away, and ran a hand through her hair.

What was she supposed to do with this girl? With the situation? Should she head out into the forest once her folks got there and look for her? See if she could find the brunette? How long had Zac been there in the forest? Did she live in one of the neighboring cabins? That would make sense. There were a lot of families that lived in Wachiva Forest, but she had never seen her before. Though Zac seemed to know Abby, or thought she did.

But then her mind spun again to her conversation with her mother. Imaginary friend. Spinney. Bright blue eyes. Zac.

It was all so confusing. There was a part of her that was terribly curious about all of it, but the larger part that was wary and frightened.

"Damn." She blew out, her bangs ruffled in the puff of warm air.

*****

Zac peered around a tree, watching as the orange and white pickup truck pulled up in front of the cabin. She saw Spinney smile at the burly man behind the wheel, and nod as he said something to her. She grabbed her bag and opened the truck's door, stepping out into the dirt.

"Bye, Jim!" The blonde waved to the man, then headed for the porch. She set the bag down, then stopped.

Abby looked around. The moment she stepped out of the truck, she could feel again. Green eyes scoured the trees around her, then she looked toward the green dock. She knew someone was around, and on a whim, decided to try.

"Are you there?" she called out, her voice echoing off the trees and into the early afternoon. "Come out!"

She jumped, grasping at her chest when a figure stepped out from behind a tree not six feet away. It was the same girl, dressed in the same clothes. She just seemed to appear out of nowhere, materializing out of thin air.

Zac stood there, hands shoved into her pockets as she looked at the blonde, deciding to come out when called for. She wanted another chance to talk to Spinney.

"You scared me," Abby gasped, taking several deep breaths.

"I'm sorry," the girl said, her voice that same quiet, soft sound.

"Were you watching me?" the blonde asked, taking the girl's appearance in more now that she was closer to her, and felt slightly less fear. But only slightly. She was so young. The brunette nodded.

"Yes."

"Why? You scare me, you know," she said, then was surprised as that same pained look crossed Zac's features again. Like she had just lost her best friend.

"I'm sorry," was whispered, and Zac's head hung. She had no desire to scare Spinney. She wanted the blonde to like her again, not be afraid.

"Are you real?" the blonde asked, having to know, having to try and understand. The dark head raised, surprised blue eyes boring into hers. Abby looked into those eyes. They certainly were bright blue as her mother said she used to say. Zac nodded. "Why don't I remember you? Why does my mother say you were my imaginary friend?" Abby crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. She was defenseless, and felt that vulnerability. She did have her pocket knife in her back pocket, if it came down to it. "Why did my parents never meet you?"

"I didn't let you," Zac stated, as if it was the most obvious answer.

"Why?"

"Because they'd take me away."

Blonde brows drew in confusion. "Taken you away to where?"

Zac shrugged. "I don't know. Away."

These cryptic answers weren't helping anything. Abby decided to try a different track. "Why do you watch me? Do you watch me?" The brunette nodded.

"Yes. I like watching you."

"Okay, that's creepy. Why?" Abby shifted her weight to her other leg, her eyes never leaving this strange girl in front of her.

"Because you were my friend. And to protect you."

"From who?" Abby asked softly, sensing that Zac was telling the truth, but still feeling like something was missing.

"The Boogie Man," Zac answered, her voice deepening just a bit, hardening. Abby watched the slight change of the girl's face, but was not afraid of it. She felt that hardness was not meant for her. But it was strange to hear a child’s answer spoken by a woman, with such sincerity.

"Boogie Man?" Blonde brows drew, confused, and slightly amused.

Zac nodded.

"Oh," was all she said. Weird. "Where do you live? Why are you here?"

"I live here," Zac said, indicating the forest behind her. "I'm here because you are, Spinney."

"Why do you call me that?" The blonde sounded slightly agitated, as if she were hearing a joke that only Zac knew the punch line to. Zac looked at her, slightly cocking her head to the side. Spinney didn't remember anything?

"Well, you like to spin," she said simply. "When you do, your hair would fan out around you, looking like spun gold." She smiled at the memory, one of her favorites. Spinney had such pretty hair. Still did. Though now it was even longer than the shoulder-length style of her childhood.

"I did like to spin," Abby whispered, then shook herself out of her reverie. "Tell me more. Something that would convince me you're not a loon, or are real. Why did you run the other day?"

"You were going to call people and get me in trouble," Zac answered, feeling the sting again from the other day.

"Call people? What, like the cops?" The brunette nodded. "Should I? Are you in some kind of trouble?" The blonde drew her brows in suspicion

"No."

Abby stared at the girl for a moment, then said, "Show me where you live."

"No."

"How am I supposed to believe you, or know anything about you if I don't even know if you're real?"

"Touch me," came the simple response.

"Oh, no! Not a chance in hell I'm getting that close to you, Zac." Abby stared at the girl like she was nuts. The brunette looked hurt, then looked down.

"Then throw something at me. There are rocks down at your feet."

"No. Just show me where you live. If there's a slim chance that I'm going to trust you, this isn't the way to do it, by being obstinate." Abby pointed an accusing finger at her.

Zac looked at her and nodded, turning around and heading off into the woods. Abby brought out her pocket knife, opening the blade and casually, discreetly, marking tree trunks as she went. She had no idea where this girl was leading her, nor how to get back if they got deep enough into the foliage.

The brunette led the way, her heart heavy as she had to prove herself to her friend, confidante, and only person in the world she cared about. She felt an immense sadness consume her, taking over the absolute joy of being with the blonde again. She knew Spinney didn't trust her, and she hated it.

She led the way through the dark forest, some places even the full overhead sun couldn't penetrate. She knew the way, the path marked by small, subtle markers that years of roaming and experience had alerted her to. The smallest group of leaves acted as the biggest highway sign marking an exit.

"How do you know where you're going?" Abby asked, her voice hushed in the dense trees as her ever watchful eyes tried to take in everything, in case she needed to remember something.

"Lots of walks," Zac said simply. She headed toward a large cropping of rocks, turned the bend around them, and suddenly, they were upon a camp sight. Abby took in the burned pile of rubble next to the rock overhang, where a small, thrown together lean-to, was set up. Next to it was a fire ring, the rocks covered in soot on the inside.

She took in the blue tarp that was tied to a tan canvas, both anchored to the ground to form a wall and entryway. The blue jumped out in sharp contrast to the natural colors of everything else.

"This is where you live?" she asked, her voice a whisper. Zac nodded. "My god. How can anyone survive in this?"

Zac looked hurt for a moment, digging her hands even further down into her pockets, and kicked at some rocks at her feet.

"I just do," she muttered.

"What was that?" Abby pointed to the burnt out ruins. Zac glanced over at them, then looked at the blonde.

"That's where I used to live. When I was a kid. When I knew you. My dad and me lived there."

"Your father?" Abby looked at the girl, and saw her nod. "Where is he now?" She walked over to it and looked through the rubble, noting the semblance of certain things, including a dented, half melted teapot. "What happened?"

"I don't know. He died when I was 13, so I left here. When I came back a few months ago, I found it like this. Don't know when it happened. I plan to rebuild someday." She met the green-eyed gaze.

"Do you own this land?" Abby asked quietly. She felt her fears begin to melt away as she saw the humble, yet proud dwellings of this girl, though she still wasn't sure she was even talking to a living, breathing person. And if she was, was she a total mad woman, there to rob her or worse?

"No. That's why I stay out of trouble," Zac said, trying to defend herself, and her right to be there and stay there. Though she was with her beloved Spinney, she still felt violated in a way, having to show the blonde her sparse home, and having to defend it. She had never shown anyone where she lived before. Not even Spinney when they were children.

"Can I look inside?" Abby asked quietly, and at the brunette's nod, she walked over to the flap, knelt down and peered inside. It was small, maybe large enough for the tall girl to stretch out, but not much more than that. She had a rolled up bedroll at one end, with a small stack of books piled near it. An old, weather beaten canteen hung on a natural ledge in the rock wall, and a small leather pouch sat on the ground under it, with a nearly completely melted candle next to it.

Zac's heart raced as the blonde looked around her home, her body flowing with natural energy as she began to lightly bounce on her toes. She worried that Spinney would be disgusted with her few, meager belongings, and not want to be friends at all. Not that it was looking so hot for that, anyway. She was also battling the feeling of having someone snoop through her things. They were her private things.

Abby backed out of the small space, and stood, brushing her knees off. She looked at the darker girl who watched her, hands still in those ever-present pockets.

"Tell me something about me then, Zac. Why should I believe you?" she asked, her voice quiet. She wanted to understand this great mystery.

"Um," Zac looked up into the blue sky, chewing on her lip as she thought of what she could say to the younger girl to make her understand and believe. Then it hit her. She looked at the blonde, and began to sing:

"El coqui, el coqui a mi me encanta

Es tan lindo el cantar del coqui

Por las noches al ir a acostarme

Me adormece cantandome asi

Coqui, coqui, coqui, qui, qui, qui

Coqui, coqui, coqui, qui, qui, qui

Coqui, coqui, coqui, qui, qui, qui

Coqui, coqui, coqui, qui, qui, qui"

Abby listened as Zac sang, her voice quiet, but not unpleasant, the blonde's mouth falling further and further open with each chorus.

"How did you know that?" she breathed. Zac looked at her, confused, head slightly cocked to the side.

"You taught it to me," she said, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of her mouth. That had been a fun day.

"When?" Abby was flabbergasted.

"That summer. You used to sing it all the time." A full out smile broke across the brunette's face now, her mind years away as she saw them, the little blonde girl, and the tall brunette, sitting on that big rock in their special place, singing. "I told you I was afraid one night, so you taught it to me. You said the frog song would keep me safe."

"I don't believe this." Abby put a hand to her head, covering her eyes for a moment. "Did I ever see you again?"

"Not after that summer, no." Zac's voice became even softer, making it hard for Abby to hear. She looked into those bright blue eyes, and was near gutted by the immense sadness she saw in their depths.

"Why?" Abby took a slight step forward, but realizing what she was doing, quickly moved back to her original spot. She felt compassion fill her at whatever was troubling the strange girl.

"I saw you with your friend. She had dark hair and a blue bow in her hair," Zac said, looking down at her boots. "I didn't want to intrude, so I stayed away."

"Friend?" Abby thought for a moment, then brought her hand to her mouth, remembering that summer. She had been six years old. Her parents had made her bring a friend along, for some reason, so she'd asked her friend Melanie to go to the cabin with them that summer. "You saw us?" Zac nodded, finally meeting the green eyes.

Zac's head turned, and she looked out toward the road, and Abby looked to see what the brunette was looking at, or had heard. Then she heard it, too. A car.

"My family's here," the blonde said absently. She turned back to Zac. "Will you meet them?"

"No," Zac said, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"I can't." Zac took a step back from the blonde, looking like she was terrified out of her mind.

"Okay, okay. I won't make you." Abby put her hands up to placate the frightened girl. "But I have to go. Um, can you lead me?" Zac nodded.

She walked toward the way they'd come, Abby sure to give her a wide berth as she passed, keeping her eyes on the brunette the entire time. She had the distinct feeling that the girl was not dangerous, but seeing as how the situation was so totally crazy and beyond her reasoning, she decided to be cautious anyway.

As they walked, and the car got closer to the cabin, the girls were quiet. Zac was trying to reconcile the fact that someone had just been to her home, while her blonde counterpart was trying to reconcile that such a place existed at all.

Finally Zac stopped, turning toward Abby.

"Spinney, I've taken you halfway. Follow that line of trees and it'll lead you to the dock," she explained. Abby looked up at her and nodded.

"Thank you." She looked up into the troubled blue eyes, then looked away, about to start walking, but stopped, looking over her shoulder. "Zac?"

"Yeah?" came the quiet response.

"Please don't hide. It makes me uncomfortable."

The brunette looked down, and nodded. "Okay."

Abby turned and quickly made her way through the woods, following the path Zac had pointed out, and indeed found herself at the dock. She saw the SUV pull into the drive, and hurried over to it.

Chapter 4

Abby, running at near breakneck speed, reached her family, which was quickly unloading from the car.

"Honey!" her mother called out, hurrying over to her daughter and taking her in a huge hug. "We were so worried." She brushed a soft kiss atop her oldest daughter's head, and looked at her, making sure the girl was, in fact, okay.

"Oh, I'm fine." The younger blonde brushed off the concern. "I just talked to her, actually." She glanced over her shoulder at the woods behind her. Adam Cohen joined his wife and daughter.

"Is she still here?" he asked, body stiffening slightly. He wasn't too thrilled at the idea of some strange, crazy girl scaring his baby girl.

"Yeah, but she's not dangerous, dad," Abby said, suddenly feeling the need to defend Zac. "She's harmless, really."

"How do you know?" Sherry asked, slinging an arm around her husband's waist.

"I talked to her," Abby said simply, as if that should be answer enough. "She lives out there, and . . ." She looked pointedly at her father. "we're going to leave her alone." She eyed him, knowing full well the mighty father routine her dad could sometimes try.

"Adam, go help the kids unload the car," Sherry said, seeing her husband's protests already start. Once he walked away, she turned to her daughter. "What's going on, sweetie? I mean, you called us up, frightened out of your mind, and now you're protecting this girl." She looked at Abby with concern.

"I know. I know it doesn't make any sense. She's still creepy, but this morning when Jim brought me back, I called out for her, and there she was!" She pointed to a nearby tree. "She just stepped out from behind that tree right there. I don't know how she does it." She ran a hand through her hair, realizing that she was still a little weirded out by the situation, but no longer frightened.

Sherry looked at her daughter, not sure what to say or think of the situation. She knew Abby, and had never heard her be so frightened as she had been the other day when she'd called after first seeing this Zac person. She had tried to talk Adam into dropping everything and loading up the kids that day, but he had convinced her that the Wilkins’ would take care of her, and she'd be fine.

"Honey, what is Zac? Who is she?" Sherry put an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and led them toward the cabin. Abby shook her head.

"I don't know. She told me things, mom, things that she couldn't have known unless she really knew me." The blonde looked perplexed, trying to figure this out. "She knows the frog song," she said quietly. Sherry looked at her daughter, stunned.

"How on earth could she know that?" The two women headed into the kitchen where bags of groceries waited to be put away. "Help me, Abby." They began to unload the bags, putting things in the cabinets and fridge.

"She said I taught it to her, said that I told her to sing it to herself when she was afraid." Abby laughed, just so unsure about so much. "It's crazy. Oh, she also remembered Ben running around in his diapers, as well as that summer I brought Melanie Waynes. Remember that?" She looked to the older woman, standing just an inch shorter than herself. Sherry Cohen nodded.

"Yes. Your father and I felt it would be best if you brought someone up to play with." She glanced at the girl. "Because we thought you were so bored you had to make up imaginary playmates." She shook her head sadly. "Is . . ." She stopped herself, not sure how to ask the next question. She and Adam had discussed this at length over the past week, and still had come up with no real conclusions.

"What?" Abby asked, putting a carton of milk away before turning to her mother. She could see the older woman was troubled. "What is it?"

"Is Zac real, honey? Is she still just something that's around when you're lonely or alone up here?" She didn't have to wait long for the expected reaction.

"What! Are you asking if I'm crazy? Mother! I'm almost twenty years old. I think I can be alone without having to make up some damn imaginary girl to keep me company," the blonde steamed, a hand on her hip. "God, you make me sound like I'm crazy or something!" Abby took a step back, hurt with her mother.

"Oh, honey. Please don't be mad," Sherry begged. "I didn't mean to upset you. We're just trying to cover all the bases." She walked over to the girl, and bundled her up in strong, motherly arms. She spoke as she stroked the long, blonde hair. "I've even thought if perhaps this girl is a ghost." Sherry chuckled at her own foolishness.

"Me, too." Abby laughed in turn. "Crazy, yes. So maybe I am. I don't know. She took me to where she lives," she explained softly, still nuzzling into her mother's warmth.

"Really?"

"Yup. She just has this crappy lean-to under a group of rocks. I was so stunned."

"How can anyone live like that?" Sherry asked, the concern of a mother of five in her voice.

"I don't know. I wonder the same thing. How she doesn't freeze I'll never know." The blonde pulled away from her mother. Continuing to put groceries away, she said, "You know, the strange thing is, I think I can feel when she's around." She glanced out the window, wondering if she'd see the girl out there. She felt that feeling. Kind of like a constant hum.

"Really?" Sherry tossed a box of cereal on top of the fridge, and turned back to the bag of canned goods.

"Yeah. Strange."

*****

Zac laid on her bedroll, the night sky making everything dark and beautiful. She loved the dark, the way it could hide her and keep her safe. She almost saw better in the dark, feeling her way through the woods, and allowing her senses to take over for her.

She smiled, remembering that afternoon. She still felt slightly uneasy about having her privacy so intruded upon, but let it slide, knowing it was for Spinney. She'd do anything for her, and if bringing her to her home helped Spinney to remember her, or at least not be afraid, then it was worth it.

Oh, how she wished the blonde would remember her. The feeling of being around Spinney again was priceless. Just for the one hour of time they'd had that day was worth all of it. The blonde of her hair, the green of her eyes ….

Zac sighed, feeling happy and content. She knew that Spinney was okay, and safe and happy, and that meant everything else would be okay. She had watched from the bluff as the blonde had joined her family, and had certainly been surprised at how much that family had grown. And when she had spotted the little one, her heart had leapt into her throat.

The girl looked young, younger than Spinney when she'd met her, but had that same blonde hair and curious face, looking at everything. Zac had to smile when she'd seen the youngster. She could read trouble all over that girl. It had been Spinney all over again, and nearly made the brunette's heart weep for a time lost. A time when she had been trusted by Spinney, and had been her friend. And remembered.

Zac sighed, folding her hands behind her head. She'd just watch from afar, making sure the entire clan was happy and healthy and safe. No Boogie Man for them.

*****

The nighttime was a good time. It was dark, though the stars and moon shone brightly overhead. The lone figure walked through the night, that familiar buzzing still whirling through his veins. He felt the roughness of his hands rub together as he tried to clean the large paws, blood and grime and dirt getting trapped between the cracks in the skin.

Running thick fingers through greasy hair, too long forsaken by soap and water, he squinted ahead. What was next? Where would his trail lead now?

He saw a sign, then heard the drone of a car, and quickly jumped back into a thicket of trees. Headlights scanned across the sign, then the car drove on, but it was too late. He had already seen what the sign said:

Welcome to Wachiva Forest!

"I've been here," he mused, and continued, sticking to the dense foliage.

*****

Abby grabbed her brush from the dresser near the window. It felt good to not only be back in her family's cabin, but also in her room on the third floor. The attic room.

She looked around, all the posters and pictures hanging on the walls. Some had been there for years, while others were only a year or two old. Sports figures, movies she'd liked, actors and actresses, or just simple sayings. In the corner near the closet was a stack of crates, all filled with memories of the cabin, and her family's years there. She was quite the nostalgic one, and loved to keep everything.

Just fresh from her shower, she stood in the center of her room, the slanted ceilings on either side, also covered with posters. She wore her sleep wear, tired from a long week. The boxers, covered with little Tweety Birds, and a tank top. She carefully ran the bristles of the brush through the wet, golden locks, mindful of the tangles she usually got.

She thought back to her day. The blonde had finally convinced her parents to trust her. They, especially her dad, was determined to borrow Jim Wilkins' hounds, and set them free through the woods. It was ridiculous, and she couldn't do that to Zac, no matter what the situation was. She'd never allow Zac to be hurt, regardless of how odd the whole thing was.

Abby closed her eyes, letting the comforting strokes of the brush bring a smile to her face. She figured that the feeling of being watched was from Zac watching her, and nothing else. She had no idea what the brunette had meant by protecting Abby from what the taller girl called the ‘Boogie Man’. What the hell was that? The cops? Was Zac afraid of police?

She had no idea, but she did stop, brush in mid-stroke. There it was. That feeling.

Abby set the brush on her bed, walked over to the window, brushing the sheer curtains aside, and looked down. She was not surprised when she saw the figure standing below, half hidden by a tree. She smiled, knowing it was Zac, and knowing that she was safe. The blonde raised a hand in greeting.

*****

Zac leaned against the tree, her head peeking out from behind the mighty oak. She saw the silhouette in the window on the third floor, and knew it was Spinney. She looked up at the dark figure, wishing she could see those green eyes again.

A soft smile spread across the brunette's face when she saw a hand lift in greeting, and she mirrored the action, her stomach rising in her throat as she was nervous. But happy.

She watched the figure for a moment, then it slowly slipped away, the curtains floating back into place. Within a few moments, the light flickered off, and all was silent and still.

Zac turned, making her way through the darkness to her home.

*****

Abby smiled as she climbed into bed, knowing for certain now that it was indeed Zac that she felt, and knew that it was Zac that watched her. She also smiled because she realized she didn't mind that so much anymore.

Chapter 5

"That is so not fair!" Ben shouted, scattering a few frightened birds off their perches nearby.

"Don't be such a whiner." Jake grinned, smacking his older brother in the arm. The incensed fifteen-year-old looked down at the twelve-year-old brat.

"You suck, Jake." Ben ran over to the tree and began to climb, the Frisbee taunting him from a branch just out of his reach.

"You guys both suck." Abby grinned as she brought out a plate of raw hamburger patties for her father, who was manning the grill.

"Shut up, Abby!" Ben yelled from the tree. Finally his fingertips grabbed the toy, and he hurled it at his younger brother, nearly beaning him in the head with it.

"Jerk," the boy grumbled.

"Here, dad." The blonde set the plate down, and smiled at the older man. His dark blonde hair was beginning to show a few streaks of gray, which she loved to tease him about. Soon enough you'll look like grandpa, she'd tease.

"Thanks, sweetie." He leaned down and kissed the girl's cheek. He was so proud of his oldest. Going to college, making a life for herself, and her mark in the academic world. He sure was proud, indeed. Now if only Ben would get his act together as well.

The blonde wandered back into the house where Sherry Cohen and Rachel were preparing a salad. The nine year old sat on the counter top, tearing apart lettuce as her mother chatted with her.

"Hey, you two. Dad's got the burgers going," Abby announced, opening the fridge and grabbing herself a bottled water. The summer was nearly a week in, and the weather was improving exponentially. The boys had even gone swimming the day before, though had still frozen their butts off.

"Okay, honey," Sherry said, continuing to cut slices from the block of Cracker Barrel's sharp cheddar. "Bring those out to your dad, Rach." Sherry helped the girl down, and handed her the plate of slices. "Abby, did you bring down your laundry?"

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Hang on." The blonde popped up from where she'd sat to start reading a magazine and ran upstairs. She hit her room first, grabbing the hamper she kept up there, then headed to the second floor to grab the other hamper used by the family. She saw her youngest sister's hot pink shirt with the koala on the front and smiled. The four year old was so cute, though utterly evil.

Abby grabbed the other clothes in the hamper, adding it to her own, then stopped, brows drawn.

"Where is Becky, anyway?" she muttered, not remembering if she'd seen the tiny girl lately or not. "Hey, mom?" she called as she headed down the stairs, dropping the clothes off in front of the washer and dryer that were located in a closet, hidden behind folding doors.

"Yeah?" Sherry called from the kitchen, opening a can of baked beans.

"Have you seen Beck?" Abby asked, hands on her hips as she stood in the archway that lead to the kitchen. Sherry stopped what she was doing and thought for a moment.

"Isn't she out playing with the boys?" She looked at her daughter over her shoulder.

"I don't remember seeing her out there." The blonde headed outside, curious, though not quite getting to panic stage yet. The youngest was very prone to following her curiosity and finding trouble. Her mom often told her that Becky was a lot like she was at that age. Always wandering, following a bug or even a wind-blown leaf.

"Hey, Jake. Go far!" Ben yelled out, trying to get his brother to land in the lake with a well thrown Frisbee. He knew the boy loved to try and dive going after the disc. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his older sister walk out of the house, looking around. Wonder what's up.

"Hey, any of you guys seen Beck?" Abby asked no one in particular. She figured if they knew, they'd say. With negative answers all around, Abby began to get worried.

*****

The small blonde child walked on, looking around with green eyes, large with growing apprehension and fear. As she walked through the woods, one tree began to look like the next in a maze of an unending forest.

Getting really worried now, the little blonde brought up a hand, chewing on her fingers as tension began to fill her small body, long golden hair becoming damp against her skull as she began to sweat, her tiny hand clutched into a fist to try and keep herself under control. She didn't want to call for help because her mommy would be angry at her for wandering off so far.

She stopped, suddenly feeling eyes on her. In her childish mind, she imagined all sorts of monsters hiding in the shadows of the trees. Monsters who wanted to eat her up and never let her play again, or see her mommy or daddy.

Whimpering in fear, she stopped where she was, looking around in all directions, small, white teeth chewing painfully on her fingers.

"Hello?" she asked, her small, high voice causing a bird to take flight from a nearby branch. She looked up, following its progress above the tree tops, wishing she could fly like that.

"Hi."

The little blonde whipped around, eyes the size of saucers, immediately breathing out a sigh of relief when she saw the girl standing before her. The girl had long, dark hair, and bright blue eyes. Dark blonde brows drew.

"Who are you?" she asked, glad it was a girl, but suspicious all the same. Her mommy had told her not to trust anyone who was a stranger.

"I'm Zac," the other girl said, a small grin on her face, her bright blue eyes seeming to glow in the shadows of the canopy of trees.

"You have pretty eyes, Zac." Smiling green eyes met surprised blue.

"Thanks. What's your name?"

"Becky. Nice to meet you, Zac."

"Nice to meet you, Becky. I think you're lost."

"Yep. Can you help me?" Becky asked, hoping beyond hope that Zac knew where to go.

"Sure! Are you from that house with the green dock?" At Becky's nod, Zac smiled.

"Come on." The brunette led the way through the trees, glancing down at her smaller companion who held her larger hand in small, sweaty fingers. This was Spinney in a smaller, slightly different form. She couldn't help but marvel at how much alike this little one and her sister were at the same age. Obviously just as curious, too.

Zac had stayed away from the cabin for a few days, opting to give Spinney and her family some space so maybe she wouldn't get into trouble, and maybe Spinney would remember her again. It had been hard staying away, going no closer than the bluff to watch. She knew if she got any closer, the blonde would be able to feel her, just as she felt Spinney. She wanted the blonde to be free of her.

"Zac?"

The brunette looked down to see green eyes peering up at her with something akin to hero worship.

"Yes, Becky?" she answered quietly.

"Do you live here?" The little blonde's high-pitched voice charmed Zac to no end. The brunette nodded.

"Yep, sure do." Zac smiled down at the girl.

"I like you." Bright green eyes smiled up at the tall brunette, who seemed to be as tall as her daddy. "You're tall for a girl," she voiced her thoughts out loud. Zac smiled, then froze. Off in the distance she heard someone calling Becky's name.

"Uh oh. They're looking for you, Becky." Zac hurried the girl through the forest, and then stopped them, kneeling down. She pointed. "You see that trail right there?" she asked, making sure the little girl was paying close attention. At the affirmative nod, she continued. "Follow that, and it will take you to the lake, okay? From there you'll be able to see the cabin and can go home." She looked at the little blonde. "Do you understand?" Becky nodded, happy at the task she was given.

"I go home now." With a big, toothy smile, the little blonde let go of Zac's hand and ran off. The brunette watched to make sure she went the right way, then hurried back into the trees.

*****

"She's got to be around here, mom. Hang on," Abby, nearly as frantic as her mother, hurried with the older woman toward the lake, praying they wouldn't find anything. They had no idea how long Becky had been gone, but they had been searching for the past twenty minutes, getting more and more frantic with each tick of the clock.

She was about to tell her mother to wait on land as she headed for the dock, not wanting her mother to see if there was anything to see. Her mouth open, ready to speak, she saw a little flash out of the corner of her eye.

"Becky!" she screamed, running toward the girl, kneeling down to grab her, Sherry at her heels.

"Honey, where have you been!" Mrs. Cohen took the girl from her daughter's arms, and inspected her for herself, a wave of utter relief washing over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She felt Abby's comforting hand on her back.

"I was talking to Zac," Becky said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Both Sherry and Abby stopped, looked at the girl, then at each other.

"You were doing what, honey?" Sherry asked, not sure she'd heard the girl right.

"I got too far, and got lost, and Zac saved me!" the girl exclaimed, rather proud of her new friend.

"Oh my god," Abby breathed, her hand on her chest.

"You guys found her?" Adam huffed, running from the woods, where he and the boys had been searching for his little girl.

"Yeah," Sherry said, still in awe. "Here, honey. Take her." She handed the smiling girl to her father, and turned to Abby. "Holy shit," she said.

"I told you." Abby reached out and jabbed her mother in the shoulder with her finger. "I told you I wasn't nuts." The blonde was almost giddy. Someone else had seen Zac! She wasn't her imagination.

"I'm stunned, honey. Truly, I am," Sherry said, her eyes wide at what this meant. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you then." She took her daughter into a hug, holding her by the back of the head.

"It's okay. I was little," the blonde said against her mother's shoulder. As they hugged, she couldn't help but look out into the woods, wondering where Zac was. She didn't feel her.

"Burgers are done!" was called from the cabin, causing both women to separate, and look toward a grinning Adam. All his family was around him, and he was off work at the firm for a whole month.

"Coming right up!" Sherry called back, then turned to her daughter again. "Are you okay, Abby?" The blonde nodded.

"Yeah. Come on. Let's go eat."

*****

Zac's ears perked up as she heard her name being softly called. She stood from her bedroll, softly closed the book she was reading, and set it aside. There it was again. She stepped out of the lean-to, and headed down the path that would lead toward the Cohen's cabin. About halfway there, she saw Spinney standing there, not sure where to go.

"Where are you?" the blonde whispered, looking around.

"Right here." Zac stepped out from behind a tree, looking shyly at the blonde from beneath bangs, long since needing to be cut.

"Thank you," Abby said, a soft smile of appreciation on her face. "Becky is safe because of you." She took an unsure step toward the older girl. The brunette shrugged.

"No worries. I'm glad she's okay."

The blonde smiled, and then so did Zac. "Yeah, she's okay. My mother was frantic. I think you saved her a heart attack today."

"Your mom really should watch better. That's two of her daughters who almost got lost."

Abby was about to get defensive of her mother when she saw the twinkle in those blue eyes. She smiled, looking down at her shoes and nodded.

"Yes, well. What can I say? All the Cohen children are far too curious for their own good." The blonde looked up at the other girl. "Is that how we met, Zac?" The brunette nodded.

"Yes. You were lost." Zac shoved her hands further into her pockets, her long, lanky body swallowed in the huge, baggy pants.

"Then thank you twice." Abby looked up shyly. "Was there somewhere I used to go? Like a . . ." She paused as she thought of her dream from the night before. "It was kind of dark, but there was almost like a, well, a spotlight." Blonde brows drew. "Am I crazy? I used to spin?"

A smile spread across Zac's face, and she shook her head.

"You're not crazy, Spinney. We used to go there all the time." Hope filled her heart and her face as she thought that just maybe Spinney was starting to remember her. Remember their time together. "Do you want to go there?"

"No." Abby shook her head, hating the look of disappointment that filled Zac's face, but she couldn't. Not yet. She just didn't feel comfortable enough, didn't remember enough. She remembered spinning, but did not remember Zac there. "I should go," she said, her voice quiet. "Thanks again, Zac."

"You're welcome, Spinney."

Zac watched as Spinney, once again, walked out of her forest and her life. For the time being. With a heavy sigh, she headed back to her home, her unfinished book calling to her.

*****

Abby, filled to the gills after a dinner of freshly caught trout, headed upstairs, ready for bed. Once she stepped into the spacious room, though, she saw the stacked crates in the corner and remembered how she had hoped to go through them tonight. Fatigue forgotten, she took the first and set it on the bed.

Every couple of years she went through the boxes, sometimes just for a hoot, others to actually throw some stuff out. The blonde was a horrible pack rat, and if she thought a gum wrapper had some sort of sentiment behind it, she'd save it. Granted, when she ran across it about three years later it was just a gum wrapper again.

Standing over the crate and taking out pinecones, awards from family game night two years ago when she had been the undefeated backgammon champ, she grinned, setting them aside. She'd save them for sure.

As she continued to pick through, a thought occurred to her, and suddenly her hands began to scramble through the memories, looking for something, anything, that would take her back to a forgotten summer.

Pictures, measurements of how much she'd grown that year, when her brothers and sisters were born, a party hat from her eleventh birthday, a report card from second grade, a little stick figure made of Popsicle sticks . . .

"Oh . . ." Abby's breath caught, and her hands stilled, her eyes riveted to what lay beneath a score sheet from a family game of UNO.

With trembling fingers, the blonde reached inside the crate, closing over the edge of the paper, gently pulling it out from under the weight of the other items, then brought her hand to her mouth as she studied it.

A drawing, done by the impatient, inexperienced hand of a five or six year old, done on finger paint paper. Two little girls, one with long, blonde hair, the other with short dark hair. Holding hands. The one with dark hair had immense blue eyes, just twin dots of cobalt among the near colorless picture, and was dressed in overalls. A single tree was drawn on either side of the girls, and above their heads, in a child's scrawl, read: Zak and Spinee.

"God, she was there," she breathed, heart racing as she tried to think back, tried to remember, tried to see Zac as she had when she'd drawn the picture. She lowered the picture, letting it slowly float to the bed, and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to race back in time, to a simpler time.

Zac's voice echoed in Abby's mind as her eyes opened, tears threatening to escape as it all came flooding back to her and her trembling hand once again found her mouth.

"Oh my god. I know you, Zac," she whispered.

Chapter 6

Zac sang to herself, kneeling down by the lake, cleaning off her boots, which had gotten thoroughly gross after she'd managed to step into a nice pile of deer sh-

"Zac!"

She stood, head whirling around to see a very excited blonde blur running toward her. Concerned for a moment, she dropped the boot to the ground, hobbling over to her with only one shoe.

"Zac!" Spinney cried again as she reached the brunette. The blonde's smile was infectious, and Zac found herself smiling, wondering what on earth was going on. Spinney stopped, taking several gulps of air before continuing. Her bright, alert green eyes looked directly into the curious blue. "I remember you," she said, her voice soft, belying the excitement from only moments before.

Zac looked at her for a moment, trying to compute what the blonde was telling her, then a slow smile began just at the corners of her mouth and gently spread throughout her entire face, landing squarely in her eyes.

"You do?" she whispered. Spinney nodded.

"Yes."

The brunette felt a warmth spread so quickly through her body that she thought she might melt right there.

"Take me there, Zac. Where we used to spin." The look in those green eyes, so full of mischief, nearly brought Zac to her relieved knees. With a smile a