Evelyn stood on the pavement outside the university gates, waving down passing traffic while her mind churned through the events of the past few days. A strange unease prickled along her spine, as if someone watched from just out of sight. She glanced around, scanning the busy street, but saw nothing unusual. Shaking it off, she flagged a taxi and gave the driver the hospital address, determined to focus on Nana instead of the growing list of things she couldn't explain.
The revolving doors deposited her into the familiar antiseptic haze—sharp chemicals layered over warmer, more human undertones. She had come straight from class, backpack heavy on one shoulder. Jane had offered to come along, but Evelyn had waved her off. Nana didn't need extra noise on top of her recovery.
The third-floor ward carried its own quiet hush. Footsteps echoed off the linoleum, and the overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a flat glare that made every face look a little washed out. She found her grandmother's room at the end of the corridor. Nana sat propped against pillows, thinner than she had seemed last week, but her eyes lit up the moment Evelyn stepped through the door.
"There's my girl."
Evelyn crossed the room and hugged her carefully, breathing in the faint lavender scent that clung to Nana no matter how long she stayed wrapped in hospital linens. "How are you feeling today?"
"Better than yesterday. The doctors say the new medication is helping with the inflammation." Nana patted the edge of the bed. "Sit. Tell me about your week. No holding back on the boring parts."
They talked easily for a while. Evelyn mentioned the paper she kept delaying, the endless reading for her literature seminar, the way the weather had turned cooler overnight. Nana listened with the same steady attention she had always offered, asking questions that made Evelyn feel properly seen. Then the door opened softly and Mr. Barnet stepped in, carrying a small bunch of daisies from the gift shop downstairs. He was a retired teacher from Nana's old bridge club—silver-haired and gentle in the way some men became after decades of grading papers and raising families.
"Morning, Evelyn," he said with a warm nod. "Mind if I steal a few minutes with your grandmother? I brought her favorites."
Evelyn smiled and stood, smoothing her shirt. "Not at all. I'll grab some tea from the café and come back in a bit."
She left them chatting in low voices, Nana laughing at something Mr. Barnet said about the terrible hospital food, and headed down the corridor toward the small café on the ground floor. The hallway stretched longer than it should have, lined with half-closed doors offering glimpses of other families, monitors beeping in steady rhythms, nurses moving between rooms with clipboards and quiet efficiency. The air grew thicker the farther she walked, carrying traces of cafeteria coffee and the faint metallic edge that always lingered near the emergency wing.
Lost in thought, she wasn't paying enough attention. She turned a corner and collided hard with someone solid. Her forehead bumped against a chest that felt like hitting a wall. Pain flared through her skull and she stumbled backward, books spilling from her open bag and scattering across the floor. A gloved hand shot out, catching her arm just above the wrist—firm enough to keep her from falling completely, but gone in the next breath, as if the contact itself repulsed him. The man released her like she had scorched him through the leather.
With a startled yelp, Evelyn landed hard on her backside, tailbone taking the brunt. "Ouch! Son of a biscuit," she muttered, rubbing the sore spot as she glared up at him.
He towered over her, dressed entirely in black, a long coat, black cap pulled low, and a black mask that concealed most of his face. Only his eyes remained visible: unnaturally vivid blue, cold and piercing. They reminded her, with a jolt she couldn't place, of the dog in the forest. The same impossible shade, the same watchful intensity.
"What's wrong with you?" she hissed, irritation sharpening her voice. He had caught her, then let go as though touching her disgusted him. She expected at least an apology, some acknowledgment. Instead, he simply stepped around her and continued down the hallway without a word, shoulders rigid, back unnaturally straight.
"Hey, you can't just—" Her words trailed off as he disappeared around the corner. Evelyn pushed herself up, still rubbing her tailbone and the tender spot on her forehead, muttering under her breath. "Unbelievable."
She stood there a moment longer, rubbing her wrist where the glove had touched her bare skin. The spot felt oddly warm, a lingering heat that traveled up her arm the same way the bracelet had the night before. She shook it off and continued to the café, annoyance simmering.
When she returned to Nana's room ten minutes later with two cups of tea balanced carefully, the corridor had grown busier. Voices rose from the far end near the emergency entrance, urgent but controlled. She slowed near the nurses' station, catching fragments over the low hum of monitors.
"…wild animal attacks," one nurse was saying to another, updating a chart. "They brought him in from the forest outskirts about an hour ago. Multiple lacerations, deep puncture wounds to the arms and torso. Looked like something tore into him methodically."
"Bear?" the second nurse asked, glancing toward the trauma bay doors.
"Too precise for a bear. The wounds are clean in places, like bites rather than slashes. They're saying large canine. He's stable but heavily sedated. Lost a lot of blood—transfusion's already running."
Evelyn's stomach tightened. She thought of the dog in the woods, the ranger's careful questions about animals that didn't belong there, It couldn't be the same animal, could it? Not under the effects of the Raven Bud. Coincidence, she told herself firmly. Just another incident in the same stretch of forest.
She carried the tea back to Nana's room. Her grandmother sat radiating a quiet vitality Evelyn hadn't expected, Mr. Barnet beside her. Their hands were intertwined on the blanket, his touch gentle as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Nana's ear. The sight brought a small, genuine smile to Evelyn's face. She handed over the cup and perched on the edge of the mattress, nodding along as the conversation continued, but her mind kept drifting to the man in the corridor—those unnerving blue eyes, the way he had recoiled from her as if she carried some contagion.
After a few minutes, Evelyn stood. "Nana, I think I'll head out now. I'll come back soon. You two enjoy your time."
She had noticed how content they looked together and didn't want to third-wheel. She said her goodbyes, kissed Nana's cheek, and slipped out of the room, still rubbing her sore tailbone and the tender spot on her forehead. Frustration painted her features as she made her way outside.
Standing on the pavement, she waited for a taxi, muttering curses under her breath. "Great, just great."
Her gaze wandered absently until a flash of motion caught her eye. The man from the corridor was slipping into the back of a sleek black luxury car parked near the side entrance. The vehicle gleamed under the afternoon light—a Mercedes-Maybach, the kind of car that spoke of money and distance from ordinary problems.
Evelyn's lips curled. "Well, of course he's driving something like that," she muttered, sarcasm thick. "How could you apologise to someone when you're a rich bastard."
As if he had heard her, the man's head turned in her direction. Those vivid blue eyes locked onto hers through the open window. A shiver crawled down her spine, cold and familiar, the same feeling that had brushed against her the night she found the dog in the forest. For one inexplicable moment, his figure seemed to blur at the edges, and she saw not a man but something from the forest.
Evelyn stood frozen on the pavement, the unease from earlier returning stronger than before. She had seen eyes like that before. Blue. Unnatural. Exactly like the ones that had watched her in the dark while she tried to help a bleeding animal.
She shook her head hard, told herself she was overtired and imagining things, and raised her hand again for a taxi. But the feeling lingered, a quiet pull she couldn't quite dismiss.