The silence in the cabin was heavier than the snow piling up outside.
Morning had broken, but it brought no light to our faces. Maya sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the cellar door. Her eyes were swollen from crying. In her lap lay the unfinished sweater she had been knitting for Marcus.
There was no sound from the basement. The terrifying roars and the sound of breaking furniture from last night had stopped. But this silence was worse. It was the silence of a tomb.
"Did he eat?" I asked Caleb, who had just come back from checking the small viewing slot on the cellar door.
Caleb shook his head. "No. I threw a piece of meat in, but he didn't touch it. He’s just sitting in the corner, shivering. And when I got close..."
Caleb rolled up his sleeve. There were fresh claw marks on
