Tace slowly opened her eyes.

At first, she expected to see the stone walls of her hideout—the sting of the cold air against her bare arms and legs, the deep hunger in her stomach, blisters and sores present all over her skin. She expected the smell of fresh pine, earth, and moss to reach her nose, and to hear the sound of rain pouring down outside, causing a mist to blow through the opening of her shelter. She’d tuck the dead leaves that she had collected outside tighter around herself to achieve a bit of warmth.

Warmth.

There was an abundance of it, far more than she was used to. It seeped from the top of her raw head to the bottom of her toes. She blinked twice at the orange and red about her, and the crackling of the flames in the fireplace that seem to grow louder at the moment. When she sat up, wiping her bleary eyes, she noticed Isabel next to her. Her purple dress was long and wrinkled, and one yarned braid dangled over her button eyes. Tace picked up the doll and hugged it close to her, before staring at her surroundings. Outside, the sky was dark and windy, causing the branches from the trees to shake.

She did not remember how she had gotten here. She did remember being extremely hot, nauseated in her stomach, and then there was someone picking her up, someone holding her hands, someone telling her things, someone spooning broth and cold water in her mouth. She remembered being outside for a bit, although she wasn’t sure why. She remembered hearing a lot of voices, her wanting desperately to get away from them, and then silence.

A popping sound startled the child, and she jumped, turning her head to the side. There was a roaring fire in the hearth beneath a large metal pot, and the scent of burning wood met her flared nostrils. Something white and thick was bubbling at the busted rims.

The shack was mostly bare inside—and her memory came back to her.

The giant’s house.

As she struggled to climb off the bed, her thin, knobby legs nearly gave up on her. She realized that she had on a fresh smelling nightgown, and that her beloved knife was missing. Clutching Isabel with one arm, she took a few steps across the dirt floor, her head spinning quite a bit. She didn’t understand why she was here, but she knew that the grown ups were planning for her inevitable return to the Guadana House of Mercy, where she’d be forced to face Melissa Collington. A lump rose in her throat when she imagined what kind of punishment would ensure.

Tace crept to the door and peeked out, causing orange light to spill onto the frozen ground. Her breaths were visible in the air. An incoming gust of wind blew her nightgown, swirling it around her bare feet. As she stepped out onto the porch her heart stopped.

The giant.

He was seated on a wooden stump, smoking a tobacco pipe. Smoke rose over his black hair like a dirty veil. Next to him was a towering pile of logs and a dull axe, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. He turned his head at the sound of the creaking hinges. Surprise fell upon his large gray eyes as he slowly rose to his feet. He wore a large white cast, although the sling was dirty, hanging around from behind his neck. He had on a tattered coat, and his boots were covered in mud. He swallowed hard, as if he was trying to say something.

Tace stared back at him, her heart thudding deep into her chest. He would certainly send her back within the following night, maybe within a few hours. She would be beaten, locked into the cellar, locked away from the others with no meals for the next three days. She would scrub the floors, the windows, all of the towering dishes and piles of laundry until her fingernails bled and fell off.

The trees beckoned her, invited her. Although the darkness frightened her, she was used to it. It provided her with security—away from those who were much bigger and stronger than she. She knew where her den was, and she would gather what little food she had left there and move up further into the mountains, where no one would see her again. It was only her and Isabel. Isabel was with her. She’d keep the ghosts away.

Tace flew down the sagging porch steps and took off running as fast as she could, the warmth leaving her body. Mud and gray snow sloshed around her ankles, shockingly cold against her bare feet. Her lungs began to burn terribly.

“No, no, no, no—”

The giant’s voice echoed behind her, but she didn’t dare look back. She could hear his footsteps against the fresh snow, and his heavy breaths. She focused on the large fir tree on top of the hill, rushing towards it. Its branches seemed to reach out to her—the leaves almost glowing in a greenish hue.

A rough arm suddenly snatched her off the ground, causing Isabel to fall out of her grip.

Tace began to scream, her voice muffled by the blowing gusts of icy wind. She didn’t know how she had been carried back to the shack, but the warmth of the fireplace only sent more panicked chills through her. She could hear the giant struggling to catch his breath as he slammed the door shut behind them, the scent of tobacco filling the air. He gradually sat down on the dirt floor with her still in his arms. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and neck, causing his skin to glisten.

”Alright,” he whispered. “Alright. It’s alright.”

Tace released another high pitched wail.

Isabel was lying on the ground.

Using her tiny fists, Tace began to swing as hard as she could. She released another shriek, trying to break free from his grasp, kicking and squirming. Agitated that she couldn’t weaken his grip, she vigorously tugged at his large fingers. Her large brown eyes were wet. She didn’t want to go back into the cellar, where the rats bit at her flesh.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s alright.” His voice was quieter than the flames. “I’m here.”

Tace delivered a kick with her left leg.

“Ain’t nobody coming for you. Ain’t nobody going to do anything to you anymore.”

She didn’t believe him—he was a liar, like everyone she knew. Her eyebrows were knitted as she continued to punch at his sleeves, at his cast, which was beginning to fray at the edges. To her surprise, he remained silent, and when she looked up at him she gradually slowed down her blows and lowered her arms, startled by the expression on his face.

”Bunny,” he softly said, “why are you fighting me? Don’t you remember what I’ve told you?”

Tace continued to stare at him. Bunny? Then an idea crossed her mind. Maybe he didn’t recognize her—mistook her for someone else. She noticed a strange pendant dangling around his sweaty neck, peeking out from beneath the torn hemline of his shirt.

The giant slowly caressed her in his arms. He had dark circles underneath his eyes. “I told ye that I ain’t gonna let nobody do anything to you. You remember.” He reached over and placed Isabel in front of her, his tone becoming more stern. “I don’t want to ever see you do something like that again.”

Tace snatched up the doll. She didn’t know why he called her Bunny.

He put the back of his rough palm against her forehead. “Fever’s broke.” He stood up and carried her to the table, plopping her down on the wooden stool. “Might as well get you to eat something.” With a heavy sigh, he took off his hat and moved to the giant pot hanging over the flames. His shadow spilled over the walls, right next to the pickaxe that sat by the doorway. Chills ran down Tace’s spine when she gazed at it, her fingers digging into the fabric of Isabel’s purple dress.

The giant set down a bowl full of a steaming white substance in front of her—oatmeal. He slowly sat across from her, wincing in pain as he placed a hand on his back to steady himself. Tace noticed that he walked quite stiff. The smell of the stuff in the bowl was quite strange, and it made her empty stomach turn. A wave of nausea fell upon her, and she glanced at the door.

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It was partially open, revealing a dark split.

As she began to rush towards it again, she released another agonizing scream as the giant scooped her up in his arms. Her thin legs were dangling mid air, and she beat down upon him again, her little fists drawn up.

“No,” he quietly said, carrying her back to the stool. “We not doing that damned foolishness. If ye strong enough to run, ye strong enough to eat. I ain’t lettin’ you starve in this house.”

Her dark brown eyes, filled with fury, glared into his solemn gray ones. She screamed as loud as she could again, attempting to squirm her way down to the floor so she could reach the door. For a moment, she gazed at him, before kicking with her feet. She sank her teeth into the flesh of his arm, but he hardly reacted, just continued to hold her. The bright red mark that the bite had left slightly startled her, but as the giant lowered her down at the table again, fierce heat rushed through her veins. He didn’t even react to the now bleeding spot just below his wrist.

She rapidly knocked the wooden bowl away from her, causing the thick oatmeal to spill and slosh everywhere. Some of it dripped off the edge of the table. Tace then stood up, kicked the stool over with her foot, and turned to face him, clutching Isabel. Her thin chest rose up and down as she stomped her left bare foot.

The giant studied her.

Tace waited. Waited for an outburst, for him to hit her, to shout and kick her out, to say that she was worthless, good for nothing. With her left hand, she picked up the mostly empty bowl and threw it across the room, where it bounced off the wooden wall with a clatter. She wanted to overturn the table, but it was much too heavy for her to do that, so she began to fiercely kick at its legs with her bare feet. The heat of the fireplace had left her face red and sweaty.

Thump, thump, thump.

Tace screamed at him again, but he simply sat there, watching her. He did not move or flinch when she ran to his other pots and pans, and scattered them about—anything that she could get her hands on, she did. After pushing them all onto the floor with a loud crash, she then rushed to the mattress and climbed underneath the blankets, crossing her legs and peeking out from them. Isabel’s braids dangled from the side of the wooden bed frame.

She watched the giant, heavily breathing.

Instead, he placed his elbow on the surface of the soaking wet table and rested his chin on his hand. To Tace’s surprise, his large gray eyes had no anger in them, only a quiet sadness. He glanced at the wooden bowl on the ground, then back at the child’s defiant face. She was gripping the doll so hard that her knuckles became white.

Why wouldn’t he just let her go to the woods? She couldn’t stand grown ups. They never seemed to make up their minds. He clearly didn’t want her here, anyway. Nobody wanted her. Soon, he’d tire of her and send her off to someone who was bigger and meaner than he. She’d save him the trouble—although the broken expression on his face did make a pang of guilt go through her.

Without a word, the giant rose to his feet and moved to the threshold. He patted the top of Tace’s bald head with one of his enormous hands, before heading outside, causing another gust of wind to blow in, and closing the door. A few moments of silence passed, before the sound of him chopping wood echoed through the trees. It resembled claps of thunder that coursed in the sky above.

Tace stared at the mess on the table, before climbing on top of the bed and pressing her nose against the mottled glass window. She placed her fingertips against the cold surface—her breath causing a white fog to form on top. When he noticed her staring at him, she ducked down below the windowsill.

* * * * * * * *

She studied the wrecked room.

After sitting by the fireplace, holding onto Isabel, the heat began to dwindle in her veins. The orange light settled upon her pale face. Time to time she wandered to the door, but stopped short each time. She watched the oatmeal bubbling on the large pot, before setting Isabel down and slowly lifting the stool upright. She glanced at the door once more.

It took her a while, but Tace finally managed to clean up with a worn rag she had found. She scrubbed off the oatmeal splattered across the wall. She picked up the pots, bowls, and cups she had knocked over and put them back on the shelves. The surface of the table was quite sticky as a result, so she had gathered some melted snow from the window to get the extra layers off. She was on her tippy toes, straining to reach the edge of the table to wipe the last bit of it. Isabel watched her with approval, her head slightly tilted to the side.

The stuff boiling above the fireplace made her stomach turn, but the child carefully used the ladling spoon to scoop some into a bowl. The steam and aroma met her nostrils as she walked across the room, clutching the warm wooden bowl with both of her tiny palms. She idled by the door, hesitating when she noticed the giant bent over and sharpening a long, curved knife. He spat on the surface and continued to grind it against the stone.

His ears and nose were turning red from the cold, and, to Tace’s surprise, a shadow of a smile gathered on his lips when he noticed her peeking at him. She drew back from behind the door again as he climbed the steps to the porch, his hair covered in snow. He slowly knelt down to her level, wincing in pain. Tace could see the dirt on his palms and face, and for a moment, he didn’t look so scary. She wondered if he ever slept.

“That for me?” the giant whispered.

Do giants whisper?

Tace glanced down at the bowl she held. She then gave a slight nod, before roughly shoving it into his hands and running inside, slamming the door. She pressed her ear against it, but there was only silence outside.

For the rest of the evening, she hid underneath the bed, wrapped in a warm quilt, with Isabel close to her side. She counted the number of glowing embers that fell from the fireplace, eventually turning into white and black ashes. Her eyelids grew droopy.

* * * * * * * *

Sunlight streamed through the window.

Tace peeked out from below the quilt, her fingers tangled within Isabel’s hair.

The fireplace was still going, only a lot smaller than before. The giant was seated at the table, carving something between his hands. Wood shavings littered the floor, and his gaze was intentionally fixed on whatever lay between his large fingers. He was chewing down on a wad of tobacco. He did not look up as Tace crawled out from beneath the bed and slowly approached him. He applied a generous amount of force to the edge of the knife. She watched him for a moment, bound by curiosity, but too nervous to say anything.

The red bite mark on his arm was visible.

”Morning. Ye slept well?” the giant asked, knocking over another wood chip to the floor. “The wind gets awful loud here at night.”

Tace gave quick nod.

“Ye feel feverish? Dizzy?”

The child shook her head.

“Good,” the giant murmured. “Very good.”

A long silence passed by as he suddenly squinted, before dusting the carving in his hands. He then blew at it with a loud puff.

Tace stood still.

“Today,” the giant quietly continued, “we are going to the mountains. I need to find coal so we can sell it nearby.” His twinkling gray eyes met her. “You been up to the mountains before?”

Tace studied him.

He softly smiled, then looked down again, refocusing on his task. “There’s a lot of animals out there. Foxes, rabbits, squirrels, deer, wolves—all sorts of critters. Eagles, too.” He slowly held out a carved wooden bird that rested between his palms. “Here.”

Tace carefully reached out and took it, admiring the detail on its wings. She wanted to thank him, but her throat was filled with a giant lump, one that prevented her from getting a single word out. He put away the knife, before bringing a bright red apple and broke a large loaf of dried bread in half upon the table, crumbs mixing in with wood shavings.

”Finish that, child,” he ordered. “All of it.”

To Tace’s surprise, she reached out and grabbed the fruit, taking an enormous bite. The sweetness and crunchiness filled her mouth, and juice ran down her chin. As she chowed down on it, chewing loudly, the giant motioned for her to sit down on the stool, presenting a small pair of worn slippers made out of deer hide. She gnawed on the thick slice of bread he gave her soon after, observing her newest treasure. Once she tugged the slippers on, the giant rubbed the top of his dark head and sighed.

“Ain’t the best, but it’ll do until I can get ye some decent shoes. Can’t be cooped up here forever, can we? Fresh air is good for the soul.”

Tace placed the remnants of the apple core upon the table. Once the giant wrapped her up in several blankets, she could make out the blade of the knife visible beneath his coat. She gazed at up at him, reaching out and holding his right palm with her sticky hand tightly as she could, the wooden bird directly in her other one. The fullness in her stomach was unfamiliar to her.

When they stepped outside, the giant grabbed his pickaxe, despite the sling on his arm. He then picked up Tace with his good arm, humming quietly to himself. As the child continued to stare at him, he gave her a smile. His teeth were stained with tobacco. She didn’t return it, but leaned her head against his left broad shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his arm, the wind cold against her ears and head.

She heard his boots crunching against dead leaves on the ground. She could see each whisker growing on his face, the angry scars on his pale flesh. Warmth seeped over her once more, but this time, she did not pull away from it. She licked her fingers, the familiar taste of apple settling on her tongue.

A noise caught her attention, and Tace abruptly tugged at the giant’s coat sleeve. She raised her hand and pointed at the bushes as he kept walking.

”What?” he softly asked. “What do you see?”

“Squirrel,” Tace faintly whispered.

“A mighty big one, ain’t he?”

She shyly nodded.

Their shadows stretched out on the ground.