The Crescent Moon.

Something Is Stirring.

~Aria~

By the time I made it to the edge of the woods, my legs were trembling so badly I could barely stay upright. Every branch snap behind me sent a fresh jolt of fear down my spine, but I never looked back.

I couldn't.

The trees thinned out at last, and I staggered into the open like a bird flushed from a snare—mud on my boots, dirt on my palms, the stick still clenched so tightly in my hand my knuckles had turned bone-white.

The street was quiet. Too quiet.

Dusk was falling fast. The last bits of sunlight stretched long and golden across the cracked pavement. I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted salt on my lips.

I half-ran the rest of the way.

Lenore’s house came into view, lights already on. Warm yellow spilling from the windows. But tonight, the glow didn’t feel comforting. It felt… anxious. Wrong.

I reached the porch and burst through the door, chest heaving.

Lenore stood just inside the living room, still in her apron from earlier, her hair frizzed from the humidity. She looked up quickly—and I expected anger, or confusion—but what I saw was something worse.

Worry.

Deep and wide, sitting heavy in her eyes.

“Aria,” she breathed, stepping toward me. “Where were you?”

“I—I walked. You said the truck wouldn’t start,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but it cracked anyway.

“I know, I texted you, but it’s been hours. I was about to call the sheriff.”

I blinked at the clock. She was right—I had no idea how long I’d been in those woods. Time had stretched and bled into itself like fog.

Lenore looked me over. “What happened? Your face—your boots are soaked. And why are you holding a stick like it’s a sword?”

I tried to speak, but my mouth opened and closed with no sound.

And then she said it.

“Mittens is missing.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“She didn’t come back in when I called her,” Lenore whispered, wringing her hands. “She’s always back before dark. Always.”

I sank into the nearest chair, chest tight. The image of Percy’s broken body flashed in my mind again—her white fur stained red, her eyes dull and empty.

“I saw her,” I murmured. “Not Mittens. Percy. Mrs. Carter’s cat.”

Lenore went still.

I forced the words out. “She was in the woods. I followed her. I… I thought she was just being skittish, but then I heard something. Something big. It growled and—”

“Where was this?” Lenore’s voice was thin.

“Near the southern trail. She was already gone when I got there, Lenore. Something tore her apart. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a fox or a coyote.”

Lenore crossed herself quietly. “The southern trail…”

“I’m not making it up.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m afraid.”

She moved to the kitchen, her steps brisk. She opened a cabinet and began pulling out jars—sage, rosemary, salt, valerian, something dried and black I didn’t recognize. She moved like someone who’d done this before. Not panicked. Just preparing.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Lenore didn’t answer right away.

“Setting protections,” she said finally. “If something took Percy and now Mittens is missing… that means it’s getting closer.”

“It?”

Lenore looked at me then. Her face, usually calm and collected, had hardened around the edges.

“There are things in this town, Aria. Old things. Most folks ignore them. Pretend they don’t see the signs. But I’ve lived here long enough to know better.”

I wanted to scoff, say something sarcastic—but the image of that creature’s burning red eyes stopped me cold.

“You think something’s… hunting?”

Lenore tied a bundle of herbs together and nodded once.

“Yes. And if the woods have started whispering again, it means the balance is off. Something’s woken up.”

I wrapped my arms around myself.

“It saw me.”

Lenore’s head jerked up.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Whatever it was. It saw me. And it let me go.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Then it marked you,” she whispered.

I stared. “What?”

“Not with claws or teeth,” she said slowly, “but with intention. With interest. If it let you go, it wasn’t out of mercy. It was because it wasn’t done yet.”

I felt my stomach drop.

Mittens.

Percy.

What else would it take?

“What do we do?”

Lenore handed me a satchel filled with herbs and a small, carved charm I’d never seen before.

“We protect this house,” she said. “We stay inside after dark. And you don’t go near those woods again. Not alone.”

I clutched the charm, its smooth surface oddly warm in my palm.

“Do you know what it was?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“No,” she said. “But I know who might.”

Her eyes shifted toward the window, out into the black that pressed against the glass.

“The Fenwoods.”

I blinked. “The family?”

She nodded once.

“They live closest to the tree line. And they’ve always… known more than they say.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I remembered Elia Fenwood’s golden eyes from lunch. How he hadn’t looked away. How it felt like he’d seen something in me no one else could.

Maybe he had.

“Come here.”

She pulled me into a tight hug. The kind that didn’t feel sweet or soft—but necessary. Like putting pressure on a bleeding wound.

When she pulled away, she tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and said, “Go wash up. Food’s almost ready.”

I wanted to ask more—about what might’ve killed Percy, about the thing in the woods, about the weight behind her eyes—but I didn’t. I didn’t have the strength.

So I nodded and dragged myself to the bathroom.

The hot water was a relief, and I let it run longer than I needed, watching the dirt swirl away down the drain like something exorcised. I washed my hands twice. Scrubbed my arms. Watched the steam fog the mirror until it distorted my face into something unrecognizable.

Was I still the same Aria who arrived here only days ago? The one with suitcases full of grief and nothing else?

Or was I changing already?

The girl in the mirror didn’t look like someone just starting over. She looked like someone in the middle of something ancient.

By the time I stepped back into the kitchen, Lenore had bowls set out. A candle flickered between them. Her stew—thick with lentils and carrots—smelled like something homemade and healing. I sat without speaking. The silence between us was heavier now, but less suffocating.

She passed me a slice of buttered bread.

“Eat,” she said gently. “You need strength.”

I obeyed. The food was good, but it sat in my stomach like stones. I couldn’t stop thinking about Percy. About the eyes I’d felt in the trees. Watching. Waiting.

“You said the Fenwoods were private,” I said quietly. “What did you mean?”

She chewed her bite slowly, swallowed, and then answered.

“They keep to themselves. Have for generations. The land behind the school, the woods—that's all part of their property. Most people know better than to wander there.”

“But it’s not fenced.”

Lenore’s smile was sad. “Some fences aren’t wood and wire, Aria. Some are built with stories.”

I didn’t understand, not really, but I didn’t ask her to explain. My brain felt like it was wading through fog.

“And their family?”

“They’re old. Respected. Some say they founded Black Hallow, though the records are… vague.”

“You know them?”

“I know of them.”

“And the boy—Elia?”

She gave me a look then. Not sharp, but measured. “Why do you ask about him?”

I shrugged. “He was just… staring at me. At school.”

“Be careful with the Fenwoods,” she said. “They walk in shadow more than light.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I tucked it away.

After dinner, Lenore cleared the table while I dried the bowls. It was quiet work, but I liked that. I liked the rhythm of it. The sound of the cloth against ceramic. The way candlelight made the kitchen feel like a safer world than the one I’d stepped out of.

But when the wind outside whistled through the trees, I tensed.

Lenore noticed.

She set a hand over mine.

“You’re safe here,” she said. “This house—this land—it’s been in our blood a long time. It knows you.”

That comforted me more than I could explain.

Later that night, in my room, I sat at the window for a long time. I didn’t draw the curtains. I just watched.

Watched the trees shift under moonlight.

Watched the shadows lengthen.

Watched for anything that didn’t belong.

Nothing moved.

But I knew something was out there.

And I had a feeling… it would come again.

Maybe not tonight.

But soon.