Page 3

Ivy

I pull up to my rental cabin, it's nestled in the mountains outside of Hemlock Hollow. The drive up the mountain was picturesque, the towering trees covered in snow, surrounding me on all sides. I step out of my car, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs. It's a refreshing change from the stuffy city I left back home.

An older man greets me with a warm smile from the front porch of the cabin. His face is deeply lined, and his eyes hold a kindness that immediately puts me at ease.

"Miss Anderson, welcome. I'm Mr. Hastings, the property manager." He holds his hand out to shake mine.

"That's me. It's nice to finally meet you. You can call me Ivy."

"I thought I'd get the fire going and warm the place up a bit. The winters can be brutal up here." He hands me the key, his hands rough and calloused against mine.

"Thank you, that was so thoughtful of you."

"Let's get you settled in. I'll show you around, though it's not a big place." His steps are slow as he leads me inside.

"It's perfect. Cozy. And the view is incredible." My gaze takes in the view of the surrounding mountains just outside the windows. The fresh snow blanketing the ground sparkles in the soft glow of the evening sun.

"I'm glad to have you staying with us. It's been a while since we've had any guests on the mountain."

"I actually chose Hemlock Hollow because of its history. I'm a podcaster, researching the Hemlock Hollow Huntsman for a holiday special."

"Ah, the Huntsman. Now there's a story. The owner of this cabin, Mr. Kincaid, he's a descendant of the original Huntsman, or so they say. His family has been around for generations, owns hundreds of acres up in these mountains. He might be able to help you. His home is just up the road; you'll be neighbors, the only two homes for miles."

I can't hide my surprise. "Really? Mr. Kincaid, huh? The reclusive mountain man millionaire?" I laugh lightly, picturing a mountain-dwelling millionaire. "Well, I'd love to speak with him. It sounds like he could be a valuable source of information for my podcast."

"I'm sure he'd be delighted to talk with you. It's not every day we get visitors up here. Most folks prefer the town below, with its Christmas markets and cheer. But you've chosen a truly magical place to stay, Miss Anderson. Just be careful and make sure you stay on the Huntsman's nice list. A sweet girl like you won't want any part of those punishments."

"Oh, now come on Mr. Hastings. I think I'm a little too old to fall for old wives tales. I appreciate your hospitality. I'm looking forward to my stay here."

"So am I, Ivy. You be careful up here on your own. My number is on the fridge if you need anything."

I unpack my suitcases, placing my clothes neatly in the drawers and the food I brought with me in the kitchen cabinets. It's a lovely cabin, perfect for just me. As I set up my podcast equipment on the kitchen table, I feel a tingle of excitement for what's to come in the next few weeks.

Once I'm settled, I find myself restless. With a quick glance outside, I decide the snowfall is light enough to risk the drive up the mountain. I want to see if this Mr. Kincaid might be as interesting as Mr. Hastings implied.

I grab my keys and pull on my coat. I freeze in place with one arm inside my coat, when I swear, I see a figure of a man standing on the front porch through the window. Its face, obscured by a hooded mask, but when I look again, it's gone. I shake my head, attributing it to my overactive imagination or just a shadow and trick of the light outside.

Stepping out, I'm met with the cold mountain air. I pause, taking in my surroundings. The cabin is surrounded by tall trees, their branches heavy with snow, and the air is crisp and fresh. I lock the door behind me and make my way to my car, my warm breath forming clouds in the cold air.

I start the engine, letting it run for a moment to warm up, and then slowly back out, careful on the snow-covered driveway. As I pull away, I glance back at the cabin, half-expecting to see the mysterious figure again. But the porch is empty.

"It was just a shadow, Ivy," I tell myself. "Calm down and get a damn grip."