“Bah, it's cold!” Kyle muttered as he strolled along the beaten path that wound desperately close to a cold, dark river. An icy wind howled through the trees and rustled Kyle's locks of curly brown hair into his sharp green eyes. Although he was dressed for the bitter November evening, the frost-bound wind seemed to cut through his bulky jacket and hoodie as if they were made of tissue paper. Kyle looked down at his calloused, long-fingered hands which were currently deathlike compared to his typically pallor complexion. He swore quietly under his breath, and thrust his hands deep into the warm pockets of his worn-out jeans. Kyle raised his handsome face to the somber sky and noted that the full moon resembled an ashen face peeking through the craggy branches of the trees overhead. Gazing up a little too long, Kyle felt a bony hand dig into his broad shoulder. Giving a loud yelp, he jerked his elbow backwards entangling his tall, slender yet athletic build into a low-lying branch. Cursing his graceless ways, he chuckled at himself while shrugging off the unforgiving bough. Hoisting his backpack up between his muscular shoulder blades, he felt his sneakers hit heavily against the various textbooks occupying the worn knapsack. Usually, coming home from an evening volleyball practice never fazed Kyle, but tonight was a different case. He was honestly beginning to regret choosing to take the seldom travelled route. He promised to deliver biology notes to a classmate earlier that afternoon, but as the moon dipped below a billowing bank of clouds, darkness bled into the silvery river like ink. Kyle was questioning his loyalty, and considering it was borderline insanity, but continued on his way in spite of his over-active imagination. Kicking a stone with the toe of his tattered high-topped sneakers, Kyle hurried along the chattering river. He punted it with too much force, causing the pebble to soar into the murky water with a muted splash. Eyeing the ripples left in the water by the rock, a slight bit of movement caught Kyle's attention. It appeared to be a hand missing its body, and Kyle heard his blood pumping in his ears, and could taste the sourness of bile in the back of his throat. Breathing heavily, he scrambled backwards from the bank, landing on his backside while fleeing the gruesome scene. Standing far away from the morbid scene, Kyle tried to regain his composure; pressing the backs of his icy hands into his closed eyes, he began to take painfully slow breaths. Kyle couldn't quite place if his violent trembling was from the cutting wind that was whipping his face and cheeks raw, or the ghastly image dancing on the insides of his eyelids. Eventually, he managed to control the pounding in his chest and began to think rationally, speaking calmly to himself while analyzing the situation. Following his intuition, Kyle reached up and broke off a long, thick limb from the ice-crusted trees above him. Holding the branch like a wooden spear, Kyle approached the brink of the river and peered warily over the glimmering edge. The moss-covered rocks glinted coldly with frost, and were slick under Kyle's feet as he tried to balance precariously on top of them. Scanning the onyx water from his unusual perch, Kyle effortlessly spotted the alabaster patch. Dipping the sharp piece of wood into the stream, Kyle struggled to reach the dancing hand caught between two glittering, rugged stones. Unwillingly, he sunk one of his long legs into the cruel river. The current was surprisingly strong, and he could feel his foot slowly being sucked into the foul, muddy riverbed. Picking slowly at the pale hand, Kyle managed to snag it on the tip of the stick. Raising it slowly in the air Kyle watched with fascination as rivulets of water streamed down what now appeared to be an ivory glove. Clambering out of the frigid water, Kyle began to notice that his leg was numb. Disregarding the alarming physical sign, he focused entirely on the scrap of material. Smelling strongly of river water, and streaked with grime, the glove remained dainty. It was tiny, and was accented with lace, it was unmistakable that the glove had belonged to a slight female. Kyle's mind went on over-drive. He started thinking of the many accidents and disappearances that had recently occurred in the area. Kyle could only focus on two major events. The case of Ivy James, the little girl who drowned in a skating accident on this river, and the only thing they could find of her's was her jacket. And the case of Melissa Wilson, who was a missing person for five years, neither her body nor possessions had ever been recovered. Kyle placed his backpack at the foot of a large oak tree, and sat on a fallen log that lay beside the tree like a loyal dog lays beside its master. Although the log was numbing to his bottom, he feared that if he stood any longer, he would become weak and not have the willpower to continue on to his friend's house. The thought of finding a dead girl's glove made him ill, and the more he focused on the dead girls, the dizzier he became. Kyle's vision became hazy as he felt the burning sensation like molten lava burn in the depths of his stomach. Digging his fingers into the rough and jagged bark of the log beneath him, Kyle let the pain take over, until his fingers ached and the faintness had subsided. Feeling an odd sensation in his right pocket, Kyle realized that he had received a text message. The bluish light emanating from the device was blinding, and Kyle had to squint until his eyes became accustomed to the light that held such a strong contrast to the constant darkness of the night. Peeking down at the scratched screen of his cellphone, he scanned over the the words, now meaningless to him as if they were written in a foreign language. Focusing was almost an impossible task, but somehow he managed to decipher that his friend was concerned about Kyle being out so late at night. Kyle's eyes glided up to the corner of his phone where the time was displaying that is was nearing ten-thirty. Feeling a sharp pang of guilt for making his friend anxious, he stood up slowly, shoving the saturated glove into his jean's front pocket and continued hastily on his journey. The walk to Kyle's friend's home was only a matter of fifteen minutes, but it was excruciating under his circumstances. Throughout the entire walk, Kyle could not cease to think about the wet bundle of material in his pocket. By the time Kyle had gotten to his friend's driveway, he had begun shivering so intensely that his now-icy curls which were pasted to his forehead trembled in front of his eyes. Straightening his body from its hunched-over position, and squaring off his strong shoulders, Kyle made his way to the front door. Haltingly, Kyle raised his fist to the door, and gave three sharp raps. Moments later, the foxy face of Matthew Holmes, whom Kyle often referred to as Holmes peeked out from the crack in the opened door. Matthew's tawny eyes grew larger in alarm as he recognized Kyle. “Kyle, man! Where were you, dude?” Matthew exclaimed. “I was sure that you died or sumthin' like that!” Kyle opened his mouth to explain what had happened in the forest, but the words refused to come as if they were bottled up inside his chest. “Nice to know you have so much faith in me, jerk,” Kyle snapped sarcastically. “Geez, can't a guy catch a break every once in a while? I shouldn't even be giving you these notes, you'd have them yourself if you weren't always asleep in class, you dumb ass.” Rubbing his chestnut-colored head with his hand, Matthew began mumbling something incoherent. Kyle heard a few colorful words amongst “biology” and “useless subject” in the string of jumbled cuss words. Looking upwards to Kyle again, Matthew's eyebrows shot upwards as he realized the state Kyle was in. “Hey, bro, looks like the Ice Princess came to visit me! Are you a fairy too? 'Cause I've been needing to make a wish recently.” Laughing with a rumble, Kyle playfully slugged Matthew in the shoulder. “If you don't smarten up soon, Holmes, you'll be getting more than a wish. Now, lemme in.” As Kyle pushed past Matthew's willowy figure, Holmes retorted. “Ooh! Do I get a kiss too?” After kicking off his sneakers in the Holmes' cozy foyer, Kyle made his way up the spiralling staircase, and down the hallway to Matthew's closet-like bedroom. Kyle knew how to navigate around this house as if it were his own home. Pushing open the door he entered the forest green room, threw his bag on the floor and sprawled across Matthew's rickety bed. The bedroom smelled strongly of Axe, pizza and Matthew's revolting soccer cleats. The room was extremely familiar, and Kyle could effortlessly recall all the idiotic things that he and Matthew had plotted within the walls of this room. Slowly, Kyle wiggled his fingers until they ceased to ache, and began to take off his jacket and hoodie as Matthew sauntered into the room. “Woah, man! Doin' a little strip-tease for me?” Matthew chortled. “Sorry, homie, but I don't swing that way.” “Stow it, Holmes.” “Who took a whizz in your cornflakes this morning?” “No one. It's just been one of those days where my middle finger is answering every question.” Matthew scoffed. “So, where's those notes of mine?” Rolling onto his back, Kyle raised his arm high into the air, flipping Holmes off. To emphasize the statement, Kyle waved his hand in a grotesque parody of a flag. In mock emotional trauma, Matthew winced while folding his hands onto his chest, over his heart. In a high-pitched, feminine voice he lamented. “Oh, Ky, that hurt my feelings.” Playing along, Kyle countered Matthew's charade. “Mattie, love, be a darling and... ,” Transferring to his regular voice, he continued. “Go get it yourself, you lazy bum!” Lifting himself off the bed in huff, Matthew began firing questions. “In your backpack? The green binder with the Sharpie doodles on it? Got any gum, man? Why are your jeans wet, anyways? Did we have any biology homework due for tomorrow?” Kyle struggled to keep up with Matthew's lightning-fast questions. “Yup. The same one as always. If I did, I wouldn't be giving it to you anyways. Uh...” Matthew looked at Kyle warily from the corner of his eye. “ 'Uh' ? Did something happen while you were in those freaky woods?” “S'nothing, Holmes. I just got a little freaked out.” “It's more than 'nothing', idiot. You stagger up to my house, pale as a ghost, reeking of bog water, wet as a drowned rat, and shivering like a chihuahua. I'm pretty sure you're dealing with some serious shizzle,” Matthew remarked while throwing a pair of slippery black track pants at Kyle. “Here, put these on, doofus.” “Thanks, bro,” Kyle mumbled. “But, it wasn't bog water, it was river water.” “I don't care if it was Holy water, you're still soaked, and I want to know why!” Kyle reluctantly began to tell Holmes about the ominous odyssey through the tenebrous copse. Eventually, Kyle slipped the damp glove out of his pocket, and passed it to the wan-faced Holmes. Kyle held his breath as Matthew examined the tattered glove, and could feel a slight tremor go through his body. Kyle noticed that the colour slowly came back to Matthew's cheeks as Holmes began to snigger. “Stop it, moron! S'not funny, dammit!” Kyle barked as he felt his cheeks grow warm. Holmes tilted his head backwards and began to guffaw. “You're such a dimwit,” he crowed while wiping at his eyes with the sides of his hands. “It's obvious that this isn't Ivy James', it's too big for a seven-year-old, and Melissa Wilson is just an urban legend to scare ninnies like yourself!” Kyle lashed out at Holmes. “Well, who's is it, then if it's not Ivy's?” Matthew grinned widely at Kyle. “My girlfriend's.” Kyle blinked. “Wha—?” “Shaddup, and I'll explain,” said the smirking Matthew. “Cassie and I were walking through the woods last week on our way to my house. While we walked over the bridge we were goofing off, and Cass took off her glove and was waving it at me like it was a handkerchief. I grabbed it from her, and dangled it over the water. She tried to take it back, but I accidentally dropped it in the water. She was cross as hell at me when I couldn't get it out of the water.” Kyle just stared at Matthew with his mouth gaping open. “Y-you mean, I freaked out over you girlfriend’s lost glove?” Holmes shrugged one shoulder, and lifted the corner of his mouth sympathetically. “Looks like it, dummy.” Kyle, sitting cross-legged, cradled his face in his two palms. Slowly his shoulders began to shake violently. Holmes could only stare at Kyle in disbelief. “H-hey, bro. Are you crying?” Matthew stammered. Looking up from his hands, Kyle cracked a smile. “Nah, Holmes, I just feel like an idiot. Looks like there was nothing mysterious about that glove after all.” “And now Cassie will like you!” “She always liked me. The only reason she's dating you is because you begged her to!” “Take that back, man! That's was a hit below the belt.” “No way, jerk-face. Now, get me some food, I'm hungry.” Ruffling Kyle's hair as he passed by, Matthew smirked. “Sure thing, buddy. You owe me big-time, though.” Throwing a sneaker at Holmes as he slipped out the door, Kyle yelled: “Brink me a Coke while you're at it!”