The lights of the main hall were dimmed to settle guests into a night of music. Elizabeth sat with her friends, eating and drinking at a table while amateurs performed on stage. Somehow, the conversation had turned to her sister, and how Elizabeth's punishment had been harsh. None of her friends had little sisters of their own, so they didn't understand that if she didn't push Jess every once in a while, she'd stay up in her room writing fairy tales and leaching off their dad instead of getting her own job. Not wanting to waste time thinking about her sister, Elizabeth urged them to change the subject.

  The stage lights shifted, alerting the audience the next performer. Elizabeth didn't give it much attention, until a familiar voice spoke into the microphone.

  "This one goes to my older sister, who's celebrating her birthday tonight."

  Elizabeth glared up at her baby sister, her cheeks already turning red from the cheers of strangers around them. She prayed Jess would miraculously lose her voice, or the sound system would short out, or one of the strings on her guitar would snap. Anything to stop her from singing to her.

  "We don't always get along, but she's always there for me, pushing me to be the best version of myself. So, I wanted to give her a special thanks tonight."

  Hearing the first finger-picked notes, Elizabeth wanted to gag. Country music. She hated country music. One thing she looked forward to about moving to Norway was she wouldn't have to listen to country music anymore, but Jess just had to bring it with her.

  The song Jess picked was Garth Brooks MUCH TOO YOUNG TO FEEL THIS DAMN OLD. It was one of her favorites, but also funny in an ironic way. By the first line, her warm voice won the audience over. By the second verse, the room steadily clapped along in rhythm. The ending earned a standing ovation.

  Jess hurried to her sister's table through a cloud of compliments. She knew country music wasn't Elizabeth's favorite, but she had to appreciate the effort. Maybe this was the moment they could finally connect on something.

  But when she sat down, Elizabeth looked at her the way she looked at waiters who had the audacity to bring her the wrong order, and said in a flat tone: "If only you put that much work into something worth-while."

  Jess' smile faltered, realizing she had gravely miscalculated the entire thing. The only singers who impressed Elizabeth were millionaire celebrities. She had let herself become so focused on practicing that she forgot to consider what Elizabeth would have wanted for her birthday. The next best gift she could give was to sit quietly for the rest of the night and stay out of everyone's way.

  She let her mind wander to anyplace that wasn't here, drowning out faces and voices, unaware of the next performer taking the mic to thank everyone for coming out with one last song.

  A soft acoustic melody calmed the room, but it wasn't until the woman sang that Jess turned in her chair with goosebumps creeping up her arms from the woman's haunting voice.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The singer looked Jess' age, radiating a confidence beyond her years. Wavy blonde hair curtained her face and rested against her guitar. Molding the words effortlessly on her lips, she led the audience through a song about a lost soul forever on the run. An occasional scrunch of her nose or curve of her lips worked with her voice to drive the lyrics home.

  Jess stopped breathing when her pale eyes met hers, like she was a tiny deer caught in the highlights of a semi-truck barreling towards her. Her stomach twisted into knots, but not in the worst way. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, with a mix of fear and excitement.

  When the singer looked away, the spell was broken, and a flood of reality reminded Jess she was sitting at a table in a dark room, looking up towards a stage. She could finally see the whole picture, and recognize a familiar stirring inside her. It wasn't the first time that day she stood on a cliff edge.

  As soon as the girls returned to the suite, Jess got on speakerphone with her father while Elizabeth stood with her arms crossed in the doorway.

  "Did you talk to the resort owner?" Jess asked.

  "Of course," Jon answered.

  She waited for her father to elaborate, but he was frustratingly short with her. "You didn't find anything suspicious about her?"

  "Nothing that indicated she had anything to do with it."

  "You see!" Elizabeth chimed. "You're overreacting. You don't even have proof!"

  "I do! I just...can't explain it." Jess gnawed on the inside of her cheek, weighing her options. "I saw her."

  Elizabeth huffed and moved towards the phone to be heard. "No she didn't - she said she saw a figure. She can't identify it beyond that."

  "That's not enough evidence, Jess," came her dad's gruff reply.

  Jess took a slow breath through her nose, knowing the more whiny her voice sounded, the less her family would listen. "You have no leads. Shouldn't you at least investigate?"

  "I have a great idea!" Elizabeth tilted her head. "Let's leave the police work to the police officer."

  Unfortunately, Jon agreed with her. If there had been anything suspicious about Miss Ransdottr, he would have found it. He had worked on the force too long for his instincts to fail him now. "You should drop it, Jess. Don't ruin your sister's vacation."

  When Jon hung up, Elizabeth flashed a triumphant smile at her sister. "Now can you drop it?"

  "Why is it so hard for you to believe there might be a shred of truth behind what I say?"

  "You spend your days writing fantasy, Jess!"

  "This isn't like that!" Jess hopped off the bed and paced the room, grappling for words in the dark. "There's something off about her. Can't you feel it?"

  Elizabeth shrugged. "Her only crime is dressing like a skanky Taylor-Swift-wannabe."

  "I refuse to believe that throughout your whole life, you never heard a little voice in your head tell you something was wrong, or felt uneasy. You've witnessed patients dead and dying, and you never saw something you couldn't explain?"

  "We're talking about ghosts, now?"

  "I'm talking about intuition! I know it was Sigyn on the hill!"

  "No you don't!" Elizabeth raised her voice to drive her message home. "You're living life in a fairy-tale world, and one of these days you're gonna have to wake up!"

  She left Jess to join her friends in the other room. In the silence, Jess realized how heavy her eyelids felt, and curled up under the covers of the bed too big for her. Maybe Elizabeth was right about her spending too much time in fantasy worlds, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was right about this. What she needed was evidence her father couldn't refuse. Evidence that would force her family to realize she was right, and take her seriously from now on.

  Sigyn Ransdottr was the wolf poacher, and Jess was going to prove it.