Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

Chapter 213

#Chapter 213 – Into the Woods

We walk for hours that day, until night starts to creep in on us. We’re lucky, actually, that it’s a mild February and that we’re not racked with cold. Still, despite the nip in the air, I feel the sweat pouring off me beneath my jacket.

This worries me for two reasons. One, because I’m almost sure that my sweat is a fever, rather than the reaction to the exercise. And two, because I’m sure that this will increase my dehydration, and our water levels are limited until we can find a fresh source.

“This will do,” Victor says, eyeing the darkening sky as we enter a clearing. I’m grateful, again, for his experience that knows what to look for in a good campsite instead of a bad one. To me, this looks just like the hundred other miniature little clearings that we’ve passed in the past few hours.

I nod to Victor, nearly exhausted, and start to unpack our bags to set up camp. RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

The boys, luckily, have none of our exhaustion. Instead, they’ve been flitting through the woods like songbirds, shouting their discoveries to each other and picking up fistfuls of interesting rocks and leaves that they want to add to their “collection.”

It was nearly an argument, an hour ago, when Ian found an “amazing” stick that he absolutely had to take with us but which he could barely carry. Luckily, Victor put his foot down on that one.

“How are you,” Victor asks, me, starting to stack sticks for a fire while I start to work on the tent.

“I am okay,” I say, giving him a smile. “And you?”

He shrugs, looking back at his work, and I know that he probably feels much the same as I do. One life force, after all. We’re probably sharing many of the same symptoms. I wonder, passingly, anxiously,

what we’re going to feel like in the morning. Every day it seems like we wake up worse.

I take a moment to remind myself that even this is obviously better than watching Victor struggle to breathe in his hospital bed. I settle that memory in my mind and focus on gratitude instead of fear.

“Mama,” Ian says, running over to me a I finish popping up the tent. He holds out a handful of acorns. “I found these for dinner, do you think we can eat them?”

I laugh a little and nod towards his father. “Ask your dad – survival is his duty.” With that, I snap open one of the flat little bed rolls, working to get some fresh air into it. “I’m just here to make the beds.”

Ian, as instructed, runs over to his dad, who laughs. “No, kid,” Victor says, smiling at him. “They’re edible in a pinch but,” he holds up a tin of food that he’s warming over the fire, “we’re not quite there yet. Plus, you have to boil acorns first, and that’s a waste of water at the moment.”

Sighing in disappointment, Ian tosses the acorns back into the woods. Alvin appears at my side, then, wordlessly helping me take the bedrolls into the tent and set them up.

Darkness falls quickly on us, and I’m grateful Victor decided to make camp when he did. Our little family huddles around the fire, the boys and I looking anxiously around at the darkness that surrounds us.

It’s some primordial fear, I think, that crawls its way up my spine then, telling me to look out into the woods expecting horrible things to burst from it.

Or…is it something else? Something else pricking its little fingers against my skin, breathing on the back of my neck?

I rub the goosebumps on my arms as Victor chats lightly with the boys, telling them about some of his times in the Navy when he had to camp out with his buddies, as part of training or missions. Their talk

fades from my mind as I stare into the darkness over the top of the fire, my plate balanced in my hands.

I jump, a little, as something silver starts to take shape out in the darkness – like a whisp of smoke on the air.

But then, as I blink, it’s gone. And I realize that I’m looking into the smoke of the fire, which I must have imagined…

“Are you all right?” Ian asks, looking up at me.

I look around at my family, then, and realize that they’re all staring at me.

“Just mama giving herself the spooks,” I say, smiling around and shrugging. “I have an overactive imagination, which likes to tell me to imagine things that aren’t there.”

“Like what,” Alvin says, leaning forward eagerly. “Did you see a ghost?”

I laugh a little at that, shaking my head. “No, babies, we don’t need any ghost stories out here to scare me. Besides, there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Alvin laughs at this, taking another bite of his dinner. “Well sure,” he says, “normally there’s no such thing as ghosts, but they’re all over this forest –“

“Alvin,” Ian snaps, giving his brother a harsh look. Alvin’s eyes flash to Ian’s as he realizes his mistake. Alvin quickly shovels food into his mouth, filling it so he can’t say anymore.

I sit up straight, looking between my two boys at this interaction. What on earth was that?

When I glance up at Victor, I see that he is likewise looking between the two boys, his face stark.

“What did you mean by that, Alvin?” Victor asks quietly. I can feel my heart start to pound in my chest.

Alvin looks up at his dad with wide eyes, not saying anything. Just slowly chewing his food, pretending he can’t talk because his mouth is full.

I turn my attention to Ian, sitting on the ground next to me. “Ian?” I ask. He looks at me guiltily. He knows they’re not getting out of it now.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Ian murmurs, lowering his hand to the dirt next to him and beginning to draw patterns with his fingers.

“Tell us,” Victor commands, his voice not quite sharp but…not as friendly as it had been a few minutes ago while he was telling his stories.

Alvin gulps, swallowing his food and looking down at his near-empty plate. “We don’t want to tell you if it’s going to scare mommy,” he says, his voice very quiet.

“Tell me what?” I say, leaning forward, starting to get freaked out now. I look out into the woods around us, looking for more –

And yes. There it is. Out in the distance, in the darkness, that slow movement, like smoke twisting through the air. Except now, I see, it’s not smoke from our fire – it’s…brighter. More decisive in its movements in the air. First taking one shape, holding it, and then diffusing, moving.

Moving…closer.

I gasp, clutching my plate as I look around. Victor spins, tense, looking out into the woods himself. And I can see him pale as he begins to see what I see.

“It’s okay, mommy,” Ian says, slipping his hand into mine and looking up at me. “They’re not bad.”

“Yeah,” Alvin says, his voice guilty. “They’re just…curious.”

Terrified, my whole body rigid, I look between my two boys.

“Alvin, Ian,” I say, my voice shaking. “I don’t want anyone – anything – to be curious about us in the middle of the woods!”