The night gathers fast as our little camp by the lake tries to sleep. We have eaten and gotten our sleeping bags out, us girls on one side of the fire and John and Phyllis with a few others on the other. The rest of the fires too are divided in similar fashion. Some far-sighted couples have set up tents a little further away and eagerly disappear behind the flaps as soon as they are allowed. Gabe and the boys have left to take their turn at the night watch while the day scouts have returned to eat and rest.

I lie in my sleeping bag on the grassy yet hard ground, the cold biting me through the thick padded material. Beside me, Tammy is fast asleep, the dancing flames lighting her dark red hair. The half-moon dark circles under her eyes are prominent, as is the tired visage of her face.

Sighing, I turn my head. Myra is on my other side, staring at the sky, unblinking.

“There is no moon tonight. I don’t like it.”

Yes. The sky is overcast tonight. Thick grey clouds hover above us, having descended from the snow-peaked high mountains. A shroud of white-grey envelopes the lake, the forest, and everything in between.

I shiver as the chill of the air touches my bones. “Maybe it’s normal for this part of the year. It’s Autumn after all and we are in the mountains.”

“It’s too soon for the fog,” Myra says again, her dark eyes reflecting the grey wisps. “The nights before the harvest moon are always clear. I have never seen it like this.”

“It’s just a few clouds.” I turn on my side to face her. Her sweet chubby face is strained, eyes pensive as she gazes upwards. She, too, looks like Tammy. Their afflictions are different, but the effect is the same.

I extend my arm to pat her hand.

“Don’t worry, it will clear by morning. It’s unlikely the Goddess will let the clouds spoil her festival. And you should sleep now. You look knackered.”

She hums, turning to face me. “May I ask you something?”

“Go on.”

“Do you know if…your sister likes Jeff?”

My heart loses a beat.

Myra purses her lips. “I mean…if she is really interested, I’ll try to talk to father. I do not want to force anyone.”

“And your father will listen?”

“I don’t know. Father is not an easy person to talk to. I mean…we are not very close. After mama’s death, he kind of drifted away. This is the one thing he wanted me to do, but if Jeff and Olivia like each other, I’d rather…”

I shake my head. All I know is that Olly and Jeff are the same as I and Gabe. She is with Jeff because Gabe won’t have her. And I am with Gabe because I could not be with…

Irritated, I shove that thought away.

“I don’t know Myra. Olly doesn’t really talk to me. I’d say just hang in there. Who knows what the future holds?”

She falls silent, her eyes growing distant. A chilly breeze flows from the lake, bringing with it a smoky fog that condenses on my exposed face. Swiping it away with the back of my hand, I change sides. A soft sound of breathing mingles with the crackling fire. A while later, gentle snoring sounds begin emitting from both my sides when I notice a movement.

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I frown as Olly gets up from her sleeping bag. On the edge of the invisible periphery, we have dumped all our backpacks. Olly strides towards it, then crouches down to shuffle through it. In a moment, she stands up, holding a bag she was looking for.

I scramble out of my sleeping bag to rush to her.

“What are you doing? That’s my backpack!” I hiss, keeping my voice low so not to disturb the others.

Olly shrugs. “I know.”

She does not look at me. Instead, she upends the bag to throw the contents on the floor. A crack sounds and I see a plastic zip-lock bag cracking on a rock.

“Olly! That’s my medicine bag! You just broke my potion bottle…”

“Ah! Got it!” She cuts me off. I don’t think she took a single word I said. She smiles and stands up with a pair of my thick joggers and a jumper in her hand.

“I am taking these. You have an extra anyway. And I am too cold to sleep in my shorts.”

That is my second pair, my best one that I brought to wear during the daytime tomorrow. I stare dumbfounded as she pulls the clothes on and strolls back to get into her sleeping bag.

For a moment, I stare after her, feeling like pulling her hair off or my hair at least. But then, I give up the thought. It is very cold and I do not want her to be sick tomorrow. The only thing worse than an ill-tempered Olly is an ill-tempered and sick Olly.

Seething, I collect my things, a couple of thin t-shirts, some underwear and a moisturiser. I also pick up my meds pouch from the rock. The glass bottle inside is broken, and the potion is spilling out, covering the foil strip of my tablets.

Sighing, I put the bag down and stalk the few yards to the lake to clean the pouch. The only thing leftover of my meds now is a strip of my heart tablets. I had bought a stock while leaving LA. I still have some left back at home but here I only have these.

I remove the strip carefully from the soggy potion-filled pouch to shove it under a rock when something sharp pierces my hand. I pull it out to find a piece of broken glass lodged in my finger.

Great! This is just what I need!

I stare as a beautiful plump blob of crimson appears on my index finger. It balances on the ball rather precariously, before rushing down to meet the jagged piece of glass that birthed him.

Darn. It hurts! I suck my finger for a minute, then dip everything in the lake water. The pouch, the dirty strip of tablets, and my injured hand. The blood still oozes, colouring the water a shade darker than it was before. Or is it just the potion? I cannot tell because of the dim grey light. It takes me some time to notice that I am being watched.

*****

It’s a girl. Tall, thin, about fourteen. Her skin is a translucent pearly-white, as if she has stayed under the water for too long. Her dark hair sifts in the fog, the strands dissolving like they are part of it. Clad in a white flowing shift, she floats on the lake surface a few feet away from me. Her feet do not touch the water, neither is she wet.

She watches me with curiosity, her eyes flitting to my hands to the water, where the potion mingled into it with the drop of my blood.

“It’s sweet. I’ve never had anything sweeter.”

Her voice is croaky, mechanical, as if the soft tissue in her throat has shrivelled ages ago. Her eyes are a metallic silver grey, the same colour as her shift, yet shining brightly, like burning white embers.

“May I…taste it again?”

Her question brings me back to my senses. Startled, I take a step back, only to stumble over a rock. There is a muffled thump when I land in the waterlogged sand, butt first. She only looks mildly distracted.

“Are you okay? Your reflexes are not that sharp.”

Yeah. Right. I swallow a dry lump. “Who…who are you?”

“I…,” she looks thoughtful, then shrugs. “I don’t really remember. But they call me Stella.”

“Stella? But…who are you? What are you? And what do you want?”

She looks irritated as she glances at the water and scoops a handful to drink it. Then she shakes her head. “It’s gone.”

“Wh…what’s gone?”

“The taste, silly. I need it. I haven’t had it in ages. I had forgotten how good it tastes.”

“What taste? What are you talking about?” My voice has turned into a whisper. She shrugs, smiling, her chapped lips stretching over her bony mouth to reveal her rotten teeth. The fiery glow of her eyes turns brighter as if twin orbs of moon.

“Your blood, silly. I need it now. I need your blood. Can you please spare a little?”

She requests so politely, for a moment I blank out. I cannot run, I cannot move. Screaming is far away, I cannot even bring my eyes to blink away. They stay glued to her, steadfast. My mouth moves of its own accord.

“N... NO! I can’t..!”

“Oh, please. Don’t be a meanie. I’ll only take a little. And I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She begins to walk, or rather glide, towards me on the surface. It’s a gentle movement, like a dandelion floating in the air. Her hair fly around her head like a dark aura. I sit rooted to the spot, my mouth gaping, but no sound comes out.

In a moment Stella is next to me, hovering over me like a bad dream. Then she swoops down.

***** *****