I will sleep beside the fire.
I read those words repeatedly.
For the first time in years, a man had offered me something without demanding anything in return.
During the following week, we communicated through handwritten notes.
Gideon was gentle, hardworking, and painfully private.
But strange things troubled me.
Every morning, I found dark stains on his pillow.
He avoided the heat of the stove whenever his right ear began aching.
And twice, I caught him staring toward the northern mountains with an expression of unmistakable terror.
When I asked about his injuries, he wrote:
Since the mine accident.
“Does it always hurt?”
His pencil hesitated.
Not like this.
On our seventh evening, I noticed another peculiar detail.
Someone had disturbed the snow beneath our bedroom window.
There were bootprints beside the wall.
Gideon studied them for a long time before writing:
Lock the door tonight.
He refused to explain.
The following night, a terrible crash woke me.
I rushed into the main room and found him collapsed beside the hearth.
His ear was bleeding.
I fetched my sewing tweezers, boiled water, and held an oil lamp close to his face.
Something dark shifted deep inside the swollen canal.
Gideon caught my wrist.
Dangerous, he scribbled.
I answered beneath his warning.
Then we find out what it is.
He looked at me for what seemed an eternity.
Finally, he released my hand.
I steadied the lamp, carefully positioned the tweezers, and gripped the black object.
It resisted.
I pulled again.
Something wet and slippery slid free, dropping into a porcelain bowl.
Then it began to writhe.
Before I could scream, Gideon grabbed my arm and pointed toward the window.
Chapter 1: The Creature Beneath His Skin 027
