Marianne Keeshig–Point of View
The room had settled into a soft rhythm: the steady beep of the monitor, the low hum of the heating unit, the faint shuffle of nurses passing in the hallway. Marianne had lost track of how long she’d been sitting there, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the girl beneath the warming blanket.
Outside, Saskatoon was still dark. A city waking slowly. Inside, something shifted.
A small sound — barely more than a breath catching — pulled Marianne upright. Naomi’s fingers twitched again, this time not a reflex but a searching movement, brushing against the blanket as though trying to anchor herself.
Marianne leaned forward, voice low and steady. “Hey. You’re safe. You’re in a hospital.”
The girl’s eyelids fluttered, a faint crease forming between her brows. Her breathing hitched, then steadied again. Not fully awake — not yet — but closer. Closer than before.
A nurse stepped in quietly, saw the movement, and nodded. “That’s a good sign. Her body’s warming. Sometimes they surface in waves.”
Marianne swallowed. “Should I talk to her?”
“Softly,” the nurse said. “Let her come up on her own.”
Marianne nodded and settled back into the chair, close enough to be there if the girl reached out again.
###
The Call
Her phone buzzed against her thigh — a vibration she felt more than heard. She stepped into the hallway before answering.
Eliza didn’t waste time. “Tell me everything.”
Marianne exhaled, leaning against the wall. “She’s alive. Stabilizing. Stirring.”
A collective breath on the other end — Eliza, Leah, Evan, Elijah. She could hear the tension in the silence.
Leah spoke first. “What condition was she in?”
“Severe hypothermia. Dehydration. Malnutrition. Bruising on the wrists and upper arms — old and new. They restrained her.
A low curse from Evan. Elijah murmured something she couldn’t make out.
Eliza’s voice was steady but tight. “And the connection?”
Marianne reached into her coat pocket, fingers brushing the evidence bag she’d already submitted. “I found a bead in the truck. Purple. Same as the bracelet on the younger girl.”
Leah inhaled sharply. “That’s Ridge.”
“Yes,” Marianne said. “And the restraint marks match the last two cases. Same pattern. Same transport method.”
Eliza didn’t speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was low. “This is the confirmation we needed.”
“It’s more than confirmation,” Marianne said. “It’s a survivor. And she escaped on her own.”
Another silence — heavier this time. Elijah finally spoke. “Did she say anything?”
“One word,” Marianne said. “Maskwa.”
Eliza’s breath caught. “Cree.”
“Yes.”
“It might be a surname,” Elijah stated. “Could be a clan. Could be a family line.”
“Or the only thing she could force out,” Leah murmured.
Marianne nodded, even though they couldn’t see her. “She’ll tell us more when she’s ready. She’s waking.”
Eliza’s tone softened. “Stay with her. She’ll need a familiar voice when she comes up.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“And Marianne?” Eliza added.
“Yeah?”
“You did right bringing her to Saskatoon. The Ridge can’t reach her there.”
Marianne closed her eyes. “I know.”
But she also knew distance didn’t erase fear. Not for a child who’d survived what this one had.
###
Back Inside
When she stepped back into the room, the girl’s breathing had changed — still shallow, but more purposeful. Her head shifted slightly on the pillow, a faint sound escaping her throat. Not a word. Not yet. But something.
Marianne moved closer, keeping her voice soft. “I’m here. You’re safe. No one can hurt you here.”
The girl’s eyelids fluttered again, longer this time, as if fighting through layers of exhaustion and memory. Her fingers curled weakly toward the edge of the blanket.
Marianne didn’t touch her — not without permission — but she placed her hand on the mattress where the girl could see it when she opened her eyes.
A slight gesture. A promise.
“You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered.
The monitor beeped steadily, a quiet heartbeat in the dim room. The girl’s breathing steadied. And for the first time since Marianne had carried her out of the snow, she looked like she was fighting her way back toward the world.