June Leir

----------------------------------------

“GAHH!” I yelped as I hit the snow with a hard thud, landing on my butt in the freezing cold.

“You’ve got this. You’ve freaking got this,” I muttered to myself, brushing the snow off my wool pants as I stood up for what felt like the hundredth time.

I glared at my obstacle, narrowing my eyes as if sheer willpower could make it bend to my command.

“There, there, and there,” I said, pointing at the imaginary weak spots in the course. “I can see it all so clearly—why the heck do I keep falling?!"

Frustration gnawed at me. For the last twenty minutes, I’d been tackling a self-made obstacle course in the middle of a freezing forest. This sucked. I sucked. The weather sucked.

“Quit crying, you big baby,” I muttered to myself. “Everyone else could probably do this easily.”

Taking a deep breath, I prepared for my next attempt. One breath... Two breaths...

I launched myself toward the makeshift springboard—just some scrap parts I’d cobbled together from town. My feet hit the board just right, sending me flying toward my target: a tree branch about three Anna’s high—fifteen feet for those who’re uneducated. I grabbed it, swung, and used the momentum to land on another branch, then another, and another in quick succession. I leaped, flipping over a waist-high branch, and landed questionably on my fifth one.

I braced myself for a brief second, but once again, my foot slipped.

I squealed, instinctively bracing for impact. But instead of the expected thud of snow and pain, a pair of strong arms caught me mid-fall.

“Did you know you talk to yourself when you’re focused?” The voice was laced with a teasing smirk.

I blinked up at him, feeling my face heat up. “You saw all that, didn’t you?”

He grinned down at me, still holding me effortlessly. “I did. I also saw your mom calling for you to come home for dinner. Guess who wasn’t there, like she was supposed to be?”

I froze, realization hitting me—I had forgotten I snuck out.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, trying my best to summon my most innocent, puppy-dog eyes.

His expression softened as he chuckled. “If Mom asks, I had a very stern talk with you about it.”

Relief flooded through me, and I squeezed him in a tight hug. “You’re the best, Dad!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, if we keep Mom waiting any longer, we’re both going to be cooked alive and served for dinner tomorrow.”

And just like that, he carried me back toward town like the princess I clearly was. Every time I looked at my dad, I was in awe of his size—he was a literal monster of a man, easily one and a half Anna’s tall, and made of pure muscle. The kind of man you’d ask to move a tree out of the road by himself, just because you knew he could, and it would be quite the spectacle.

I must’ve been staring because he looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. I blushed, quickly looking away.

“You know,” he said casually, “Anna used to fall out of trees when she was hunting. Every time, she’d get so flustered at your mom, and you looked just like her when you fell earlier.”

I shot him a sly grin. “I’m telling Anna you’re sharing embarrassing stories again.”

He sputtered, trying to process my traitorous words, but I wasn’t about to wait for his reaction. Wiggling free, I dropped to the snow and took off running.

“You little traitorous fox!” he yelled after me, though his voice grew fainter with each step. “I gave you a freebie, and this is how you repay me?”

By the time I got back to the house, I was out of breath and my face was bright red. “Gods, it’s hard to breathe when it’s this cold.”

A soft voice from above me replied, “Wouldn’t be so cold if you actually listened to Mom and stayed inside studying like you were supposed to.”

I looked up with a grin. “Are you really one to talk? Last I remember, Dad told me you were worse.”

Anna smirked down at me. “I had more style when I did it.”

I was about to retort, but before I could speak, a sudden chill swept through the air, and the temperature dropped like a stone.

The large wooden door creaked open, and the warmth from inside spilled out—along with the unmistakable sight of something straight out of a nightmare. A stunning woman with long, fiery red hair, her beauty almost otherworldly, stood framed in the doorway. But it wasn’t her beauty that caught my attention—it was the rage burning in her icy blue eyes that reminded me of a fire that was about to escape the confines of its fireplace prison.

“June,” her voice sliced through the air, cold as the winter winds. “Where is your father?”

I tried to hide my nervousness with a sheepish laugh, my eyes darting toward the forest. “He’s… somewhere back there. I guess he’s taking his time.”

I could feel the icy weight of her glare burning into my back. Slowly, I turned to meet her gaze, and immediately regretted it.

“Inside. Now.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I bolted for the kitchen, slipping past her to sit at the table, stiff as a board, and awaited my fate.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

----------------------------------------

Annabelle Leir

----------------------------------------

“Anna,” my mother’s voice came cold, the same tone she’d used with my baby sister just moments before.

“I’ll go fetch him, Mother,” I replied quickly, before leaping out the window with practiced ease. I hit the ground in a perfect roll and took off, following June’s snowy footprints as fast as I could.

It only took a couple of minutes to spot him, trudging through the woods. He moved slowly, carefully parting tree branches that would have been too high for most to navigate. Watching him struggle to maneuver made me smirk.

As soon as he spotted me, his eyes widened, and he quickened his pace. “She’s mad at me now, too, isn’t she?”

I giggled, teasing, “You should’ve known to move faster if she was already upset.”

He huffed, a playful glint in his eye. “Do you know how hard it is to move in this forest at my height?” He bent down and moved another branch out of his way, careful not to snap it, just enough to pass.

“It would go faster if you just snapped the branches like a normal person,” I countered, “You’ve moved through this forest a hundred times without breaking a single one.”

Finally, he caught up, and we started jogging back toward the house. Midstride, he bent low again, ducking a particularly thick branch. In a mock-sagely voice, he said, “If I broke everything in my way, we wouldn’t have doorways either.”

I rolled my eyes. As much as he looked like a heroic demigod, Dad had always been a bit of a pacifist when it came to things that didn’t need breaking. “I guess looks can be deceiving,” I muttered under my breath.

I could tell he heard me from the slight puff of air he exhaled, a restrained chuckle.

As we neared the house, the familiar sounds of my mother’s voice cut through the stillness—sharp, stern, and unmistakably worried.

“Do you know how worried I was? It’s dangerous out there! You don’t have the strength to deal with any beasts that might find you!” Her voice wasn’t quite yelling, but there was no mistaking the barely contained frustration.

“But, Mom…”

“No buts, June Leir!” she snapped, the finality in her tone ringing out. “We’ve explained this to you a thousand times! Your sister and father can handle themselves, but you... you weren’t born with that same strength!”

I could tell she hated saying those words, but the truth was the truth. June needed to hear it.

We stepped inside, and immediately, I heard the soft sniffling from the kitchen. Glancing at Dad, I moved aside to let him go in first. He walked over to June, who was trying to hide her tears in her favorite chair by the table. He knelt beside her, speaking in a low whisper, and I made the decision not to listen.

“Momma, I’m going to go put more firewood on the fire,” I said softly, careful not to interrupt their conversation. “Then I’ll be back for dinner.”

She gave a brief nod, a quiet understanding in her eyes. “Be quick, hun. Dinner’s been ready a while, and it’s starting to get cold.”

I escaped outside before they could say more, slipping out the front door and rounding the house toward the back. Dad had stacked firewood under the awning before the real winter chill hit, and I grabbed a few pieces, intent on getting it done quickly.

But then, something caught my attention.

I paused, looking out at the forest behind our house. Something felt off. Too still. The kind of stillness that only came when the forest itself was unnaturally quiet. It reminded me of a time a few years ago, when Mom and I had been hunting together, and a huge grizzly had roamed through—its presence forcing every other animal into hiding.

I dropped the firewood and bolted inside, slamming the door behind me and locking it, my heart pounding in my chest.

Before I could catch my breath, Dad was right there, his hand on my shoulder. His voice was different, sharper. “Are you alright, Anna?”

I shook my head, struggling to calm myself. “I… I don’t know…”

“Sweetheart,” my mother’s voice came, cold as ice. “We have company.”

When I looked up, I saw her knees buckling beneath her, straining to keep her standing.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of three sharp knocks on the door sent a chill down my spine. I backed away from it, pressing my back against the closet door, heart racing.

Dad moved quickly, slipping around me and unlocking the door. I heard the sound of Mom collapsing to the ground. June rushed to her side, her calmness almost unnatural, as if she couldn’t feel what we all were feeling.

“What do you want, Judge?” Dad’s voice was low, barely contained with fury. It wasn’t a question—it was a command.

The raspy voice from outside chuckled jovially. “Humil ol’ friend, why the hostility? Can we talk?”

Dad growled in response. “You know damn well why I’m hostile. Turn it off.”

The suffocating fear that had gripped me lifted as quickly as it had come, like a switch was flipped. "My bad, ol' friend, my bad!" the voice apologized, its tone shifting immediately.

Dad growled again, his movements quick and deliberate. “I’ll be out for a while,” he called back to us. “Finish dinner without me.”

Without waiting for any response, he closed the door behind him, leaving us in the sudden, suffocating silence.

“Mom…” June began, but her words trailed off when she saw Mom shakily getting to her feet.

“You heard your father,” Mom said, her voice weaker than I’d ever heard. “Come sit and eat before it gets cold.”

June and I exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between us not to ask any questions just yet.

Hours passed. We sat together in the living room by the fire, Mom lost in thought, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. June fell asleep on her lap, her quiet breathing a stark contrast to the tension hanging in the room.

Suddenly, we heard the door unlock, and our senses sharpened, instantly alert. I drew the knife from my boot, my mind already preparing for whatever might come through that door.

“Put the knife away, Anna. We all need to talk,” Dad’s voice came from the entryway.

I tensed as he stepped into the living room, his expression serious.

Dad knelt beside Mom, his voice low as he whispered, "I've got her, honey. We shouldn't talk about this in front of her." With that, he gently lifted June into his arms and turned to climb the stairs. Mom nodded, her face a mask of exhaustion. As Dad’s form passed the threshold of the staircase, I saw the unmistakable signs of tears in her eyes.

The sight of my mother crying—the woman who had always been so strong—brought me back to reality. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding my knife until I slowly put it away, my hand shaking.

I moved to her side, sitting next to her and wrapping my arms around her. I didn’t understand why she was reacting this way, but I knew one thing for sure: I didn’t know what else to do.

We just sat there, in the quiet, as I held my mother close—trying to give her some semblance of comfort as the weight of the unknown pressed down on us all.