nefarious (adj.) || wicked, villainous, despicable.

the egg yolks in the bowl.

The window above the kitchen sink had grown noticeably darken within the past few minutes and she wandered over from the stove to investigate. She felt a twinge of excitement when she saw the angry storm clouds rolling in, undoubtedly prepared to plunge them into a spiraling storm that would last the afternoon.

She had actually slept last night. She insisted that her father watch at least the first three episodes of her newest favorite show and she vaguely remember him starting the seventh episode while she drifted asleep against his chest. Her father was the only one capable of keeping away the nightmare and snuggled into his embrace, she had the best rest of her life.

She smiled and returned to the stove where she dumped the eggs into the sizzling pan. It was a bit after noon, she had just woken an hour ago, but she tried to keep quiet so that her father wouldn't wake. She knew he was exhausted, the hours were often long at the garage.

An onslaught of fat, abundant snowflakes suddenly attacked the window from the outside as the sun's light was sucked into a gloomy darkness. The heavy snowstorm had begun. She didn't turn on the radio, as she usually did, but she was content to assume that the storm would pass eventually. The thought of losing electricity didn't even bother her, it was all part of the norm during the winter.

The eggs sizzled in their pan while the bacon and sausage cackled from another, almost as if they were laughing at her, and she took a sip of her orange juice as she savored the sweet aroma that devoured the air. She had just started churning the eggs when she heard movement from the living room.

She didn't have to turn around to know when her father entered the kitchen with her. He gave a loud yawn and slumped into a stool, "I thought it was my turn to cook when I'm home?"

She peppered the eggs, "You needed to sleep. Besides, there is always dinner."

"You got me," He chuckled after a moment, "So, how was your sleep? Comfortable, I would hope, since I was stuck in an awkward position all night."

She finally turned to him, smirking, "Don't play victim, I asked you if you were comfortable and you said yes."

He lazily grinned at her, "Touché, again. Breakfast smells great, who taught you to cook?"

"A monkey's uncle." She laughed.

Her father chuckled and there was a few moments of comfortable silence as they poked around the kitchen, gathering items to make an end result.

"A heavy snowstorm, eh?" He commented from the kitchen sink, sipping at his coffee.

She pulled the bacon from the pan, "Yeah, it started not too long ago."

He came over to help her dish up the rest of their breakfast, "Do you think we need to find batteries for the flashlights?"

"Probably, I don't know how long it'll last," She poured two glasses of orange juice and they settled at the counter, across from each other.

"Let me guess, the cold never bothered you anyway?" He rose an eyebrow in question, a teasing glint in his eyes.

She snorted, "That movie sucks."

"It is rather annoying."

They fell into another spell of comfortable silence as they said grace and dug into their delicious meal. Despite the snowstorm outside, there was no wind that made the poor house shudder, or caused a draft to swamp the house. It was unusually quiet.

"I'll do the dishes," Her father offered, collecting their empty plates.

"Okay," She hopped off the stool, "I'm going to split some wood."

She didn't wait for him to protest as she beelined for the back door. She pulled on her heavy winter jacket and slipped her feet into the warmth of her insulated boots. Once she was armed for the cold, she gave her scarf one last tug before she opened the door and a wall of snow descended upon her.

She could barely see in front of herself as she blindly sought the pile of wood. In the rapid rate that the snow fell, her footprints barely lasted thirty seconds, and she kicked aside several inches of newly fallen snow to find the poor axe.

She eased her muscles into work, splitting a few pieces of wood that she'd dug up, until her skin prickled beneath the warmth of her clothes and a flash of cold spread through her body. She froze. She knew that feeling. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt like someone was watching her.

A tremble spread through her body, making the axe fall into the snow, and she quickly spun in a circle, her eyes wildly searching. The unusual darkness of the land sent her rising panic into overdrive as she could barely see through the descending snow, figments of her imagination trying to run wild.

Her heart clashed with her ribs as she heard the crunching of snow echoing from somewhere within the forest. She wanted to run, she wanted to obey her internal screaming, and yet she couldn't make her mind and body agree. She hated being paralyzed in fear.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the singular spot she was focused on, a spot in-between two large trees that seemed to be haunted with shadows. Slowly, a figure manifested from the darkness. She forgot how to breathe. It would have been a beautiful creature had it not scarred her for life.

All too familiar eyes glowed at her.

The spell was broken by the piercing scream that erupted from the depths of her soul, a primal and terrified cry for someone to help her. She wanted to escape but this was a reality in her mind that she could never destroy. The beast tilted its head and she heard ringing in her ears. She was going to die.

Suddenly, arms encased her body and she numbly turned her head. Her father's eyes were wide in concern and tears immediately gathered in hers. She realized his mouth was moving and shook her head once, twice, until she could hear him.

"Mikica! Miki, honey, what's wrong? What happened?" Alarm was riddled in his voice.

She gasped for breath, "It....i-it was there."

Her father glanced in the direction she had pointed but only shook his head, "Honey, there is nothing there. Just the forest."

No. She had saw it. She knew she had. Everything in her body told her that it was real. But, as she dared to peek over his shoulder, she didn't see anything. She broke down in sobs, collapsing in her father's arms. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe the nightmare had found a way to haunt her in daylight. Was it even real?

She was so confused, numb, and vaguely aware of her father as he carried her inside. He took them to the living room and quickly stripped her of her winter clothes. Her ears still rung slightly and she jumped when a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hey, its okay," Her father knelt down in front of her, "I'm going to make some hot chocolate, just sit here and get warmed up. We'll talk about it, okay? Are you okay with that?"

She barely managed a nod and then she became solely focused on the flames dancing over the blackened wood in the fireplace as her father disappeared into the kitchen. She couldn't think a clear thought, in fact she couldn't think at all. Her mind was in shock. She had never seen it outside of her nightmare, outside of the night.

The next thing she knew, a steaming mug of hot chocolate was sitting in beside her and her father sat next to her. She took a breath and turned to face him.

"Honey, tell me what happened out there." His face was creased in concern, his hair disheveled from the panic.

She parted her lips, whispering, "I saw it, Dad."

"Saw what?"

"The wolf."

He sucked in a surprised breath, "What? I looked, honey, I didn't see anything. You must be mistaken."

"No," She said, gripping the blanket tighter around herself, "I could feel it. It was there."

"How? We moved halfway across the country, its impossible."

She couldn't stop herself, the words just tumbled out, "I've been hearing the wolves. It started last week. I saw a group of them in front of the house, they were running somewhere. I didn't sleep the last two nights because my nightmare came back, I can't close my eyes without seeing it. I don't know what to do, Dad. I'm scared."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Her father's eyes glistened, his face paling, "Why didn't you tell me? Were you going to keep this a secret? Did you think you could deal with this yourself? What were you thinking? " His voice rose with every question and she shrunk into her blanket.

"I wanted to tell you," She confessed n a small voice, "The first time I saw them, but then I was just scared. I didn't want to mess up what we've made here. I don't want to move again. Please, Dad - "

"I can't lose you, too!" He burst out and before she could say anything, he continued, "I can't lose you to those damned beasts. I won't let it happen. They've ruined everything. My wife...." He trailed off, chest heaving with sobs, "your sister...the wolves killed them all. They tried to kill you. My snow bunny."

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She had no words to speak, only some form of comfort to give, and he hugged her back as his breath continued to shudder. They had both been running from the past, for so long they never looked back - or at least, tried not to. And yet, the past is forever bound to become some part of the present.

Suddenly, he removed himself from her grip and stood up.

"Where are you going?" She questioned, alarmed by the sudden look of determination on his face.

"Stay here, Mikica," He said, "I'm going to look for tracks. We have to know if this is real."

"Its no use," She protested, "The snow is falling too quickly, they are long gone!"

He cursed, glancing out the nearest window, and then knowing she was right, took to pacing the length of the living room, "We have to leave. Find a new place. New life." He muttered, mostly to himself but she was listening.

"No - "

"We have to!" He snapped, "What else can we do? Wait for it to come in here and kill you? I can't. We can't. Honey, listen to me. Please."

"No, Dad," She shook her head, "Listen to me. We don't have the money. Where will we go? The old truck won't take us far, if not strand us. There is no where to go. Dad, please, think about this."

He didn't reply as he paced a few more times, and then finally, he returned to the couch with her. She snuggled against him and he wrapped her into a fatherly hug that soothed her nerves. For once, they didn't know what to do.

"You're right," He murmured into her hair, "I won't have the money until next spring. For now, we have to stay here," He sighed, almost in defeat, "But you have to promise me something."

She lifted her head to look at him, "What?"

"Promise me that you'll never wander into the forest. Under any circumstances, you will never go into the forest and you won't go out past dark."

She didn't even have to think about her answer.

"I promise."

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