Free Cold Copper: The Age of Steam by Devon Monk

its spindly body, fully the size of a grown man, hunched over Mae, who lay sleeping. Its big head turned toward Cedar.
    It was made of bits of straw, spun in a tight twist as if from a spindle, with dirt and leaves and long, wet pine needles caught within it all. The arms were too long, overwide hands dragging along the floor next to buckled legs that ended in tiny hooves.
    The head was round, but the face was sharp, with no nose and a wide, slotted mouth full of pointed teeth. Two very human eyes glittered with damp light.
    Strange. It had to be. But the beast inside Cedar was not stirring to kill it; Wil was not stirring to kill it.
    He’d felt no warning that it was in the room, no warning it had crossed window or threshold. Yet it was so close to Mae it could strike her.
    It opened its mouth and made a sound like a hissing moan, almost like crying.
    If Mae held still, he could shoot it. He would miss the curve of her hip by inches. But if she or the creature moved, he’d surely hit her.
    “Mae,” he said softly, raising the gun slowly to show the Strange that he was about to blow it to bits.
    “Mae.”
    And then the creature rushed him. It screeched and howled as it ran on all fours across the room and leaped for him, mouth wide, teeth glistening like knives.
    He raised the gun again, this time pointing it toward the creature as it whispered, “Hunt-er. Run.” It opened its huge mouth and sank teeth into his neck.
    Cedar yelled and turned the gun.
    “No! Cedar, don’t!”
    Mae Lindson grabbed for his gun hand, pulling it away.
    The creature was gone.
    Cedar blinked hard, instinctively pulling his finger away from the trigger, since the gun was held by both him and Mae, and remaining very still until he gained his wits.
    “You were dreaming,” Mae said. “A nightmare. A nightmare.”
    Cedar took in the room. No more than a few hours must have passed since they bedded down. The Madders were still snoring. Miss Dupuis was awake, sitting wrapped in her blankets, staring through the dark at him. Wil stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes glowing.
    Mae crouched in front of him too, wearing nothing more than her chemise, with one white strap having fallen off to reveal the creamy curves of her shoulder, collarbones, and breast.
    “You were dreaming,” she said again, pulling the gun gently the rest of the way out of his hand. “We are safe here.”
    “There was a creature. A Strange.”
    Wil’s ears flicked up, and he started around the room, scenting for the intruder.
    Mae took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Here? Now? Can you see it?”
    He peered at the corners, looking for any shift, any odd shadow.
    “No. It wore straw and leaves. It was bent over you.”
    “I’m fine. Nothing touched me. Do you want me to light a candle to see if you’re hurt?”
    Cedar glanced at Wil, who had finished a full search of the room. Wil’s ears flicked and he gave Cedar a steady stare.
    There were no Strange in the room. Maybe there never had been. Wil would have woken up if there were, wouldn’t he?
    He wiped his hand over his face, rubbing away sweat, and realized Mae must have woken to see him holding his gun to his own head.
    “Mae,” he said. “I’m sorry. I…It must have been a nightmare.”
    “It was,” she said firmly. She slid his gun back into the holster. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Help you in some way?”
    She sat on her knees, beautiful and soft in the darkness. But she was also worried, and from the goose pimples on her skin, he knew she was chilled in the cold room.
    “No, I’m fine,” he said. “Just fine. Go on back to bed. Morning’s coming soon enough.”
    She paused, then leaned forward and gently pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek.
    He wanted to hold her, draw her in to him, bring her beneath his blanket and warm her. But then she leaned away, walked back to her bedding, and folded down beneath her covers.
    Miss Dupuis, still across the room,