Paid It Red

Chapter 3: Danger Looming

After finishing her breakfast and brushing her teeth, Alice glanced at the clock—it was still only six-thirty. She turned to her cat, Snow, who was lounging on the windowsill, watching her with half-lidded, content eyes. “Wait here for me, Snow, okay? I’ll just water the flowers,” she said, scratching behind his ears. Snow gave a soft purr before curling up for a nap, and Alice smiled as she headed out the back door, stepping into the fresh, dewy morning.

The garden that awaited her was like a sanctuary, alive with color and fragrance. Just beyond the door, vibrant blooms painted the landscape with an array of hues. Roses in shades of soft blush and deep crimson climbed along trellises, their petals glistening with tiny droplets of morning dew. Sunlight peeked through the thick foliage, casting dappled patterns on the ground, making the petals look like jewels sprinkled across green velvet.

A pathway of smooth stones wound through the garden, guiding Alice past clusters of lavender with their soft purple blooms and delicate, swaying stems. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the calming aroma of the lavender, mingling with the sweetness of the nearby honeysuckle vines that twisted up the side of her house. Each flower seemed to reach for her, their colors brighter in the early light, as if welcoming her into their world.

Daisies and marigolds added bursts of white, yellow, and orange, creating a cheerful contrast against the darker, leafy greens. The daisies’ simple, white petals spread open like tiny stars against the earth, while the marigolds stood boldly with their bright, warm tones, small suns planted in the soil. Further down the path, clusters of tulips in shades of pink, red, and cream nodded in the morning breeze, their sleek stems straight and elegant. Alice took a moment to admire them, brushing her fingers over the soft, smooth petals.

As she walked, the earthy scent of soil mingled with the delicate fragrances surrounding her. Each section of the garden felt like a carefully woven tapestry of colors and textures, a testament to the love and attention she poured into it every day. Her garden was her pride, a space where she could lose herself in the simplicity of tending to living things, of coaxing each bloom to its fullest beauty.

Reaching the water sprinkler, Alice made her way to the stone well at the far end of the garden. The well was old, built from rounded stones stacked tightly together, and its cool surface felt rough beneath her fingers. She lowered the sprinkler bucket into the well, listening to the soft splash as it filled with clear water. The well’s water had always tasted sweeter somehow, perhaps because it came from the depths of the earth, untouched and pure, and she liked to think it carried with it a little magic to nurture her flowers.

Returning to her garden, Alice began her gentle, practiced routine, moving from bed to bed, flower to flower. She tipped the sprinkler carefully over each bloom, letting the water fall in a fine mist, delicate as morning rain. The petals trembled under the droplets, and she could almost feel the flowers breathing in the fresh moisture, coming alive under her touch.

As she worked, she noticed the small, white lilies she’d added last season had grown taller, their delicate blooms a pristine contrast to the riot of colors around them. They were so beautiful, yet they held a quiet elegance that set them apart, like a secret only she knew. She gently watered them, noting how the fresh scent of lilies mixed with the rose and lavender, creating a subtle but enchanting aroma that filled the air around her.

Alice lingered over her roses, running her fingers lightly over a fully-bloomed red one, careful to avoid the thorns. Each petal was soft, velvety, and perfect, unfolding like layers of a story. She found herself lost in the flower’s scent, rich and warm, a fragrance that had an almost old-world charm, as though it carried with it stories from long ago.

Humming to herself, Alice continued to water the rest of the flowers, feeling the coolness of the morning give way to the warmth of the rising sun. Her garden was alive, breathing, each flower adding its voice to the quiet symphony of color, fragrance, and life. By the time she reached the last of the flower beds, her heart felt lighter, as if the garden itself had shared its peace with her, wrapping her in a sense of calm.

Alice closed her eyes, breathing in the rich scents of her garden. For a few precious seconds, she felt at peace, letting the morning sounds and colors soak into her soul. She stood there, lost in the simple beauty of the blooms, when a loud clang startled her, breaking the calm. She turned to see her garden gate swinging, and a familiar voice calling her name.

“Alice! Alice! Are you here?” It was Mr. Daz, the town butcher, striding up the path with his usual hurried steps. He wore his thick apron over his clothes, though a light layer of dust from the road covered him.

“Good morning, Mr. Daz,” Alice greeted him, setting her sprinkler down and wiping her hands on her dress. “What brings you to my garden this early?”

“Morning, Alice.” He caught his breath, adjusting his cap before giving her a nod. “I’m here on behalf of my cousin, Martha. Poor thing’s had a rough week, and she asked if I could pick up some flowers. Mourning flowers… for her brother.”

Alice’s heart softened as she led Mr. Daz toward a section of her garden filled with darker blooms, where she kept lilies, violets, and black roses for somber occasions. “I’m sorry to hear about that. I’ll prepare a bouquet for her. She’ll want something simple and elegant, I imagine?”

He nodded, but his eyes had a haunted look. “Thank you, Alice. It’s been tough for her. And, well… there’s something else.”

Alice’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Mr. Daz leaned closer, lowering his voice. “There have been some terrible things happening in the woods. It’s all over town.”

Alice felt a chill run down her spine, but she forced herself to remain calm. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, glancing around as if to check they were alone. “It started a few nights ago. They found… bodies. Torn apart, like they’d been attacked by something vicious. Wild animals, maybe, but…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, “There’s something about it that doesn’t sit right.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “Bodies? In the woods?”

Mr. Daz nodded grimly. “At first, they thought it was wolves or some kind of big animal. But I’ve seen wolves’ work before; they don’t leave things in such a state. There’s been talk of something unnatural, something that doesn’t belong.”

Alice’s mind raced, the memory of the strange man from the day before creeping back to her. She shivered involuntarily. “Do they… do they have any idea what’s causing it?”

He shook his head, lowering his gaze. “No one knows for sure. People are scared, and rightly so. The constable’s looking into it, but we’re not a town with the means for investigations like that. And until they figure it out, people are starting to stay indoors after dark.”

Alice took a deep breath, letting her gaze drift to the flowers she’d picked for the bouquet. “It’s… unsettling. I can’t imagine what Martha must be going through.”

“Yes, that’s why she wants the flowers,” he said, voice subdued. “A little brightness in all the darkness, she said. Figured you’d be the best one to bring some comfort. Your flowers always do.”

She smiled softly, though she felt a twinge of fear lurking under the warmth. “Thank you, Mr. Daz. I’ll make sure the bouquet is beautiful, something that might offer her a bit of peace.”

He nodded, watching her hands as she carefully tied together lilies and white chrysanthemums, adding a few sprigs of lavender for a touch of purple. “You know, it’s a relief, coming here. Your garden feels safe. I don’t know how you do it, but being here… it’s like nothing bad could touch it.”

Alice finished wrapping the bouquet, her fingers gentle and precise. “I hope it brings some comfort to Martha, even if it’s only a small thing.”

He took the flowers from her, holding them as though they were fragile. “Thank you, Alice. And be careful, will you? I’d hate for you to run into whatever’s out there.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “I will, Mr. Daz. Thank you for the warning.”

With a final, worried glance, he turned and headed back down the path. Alice watched him go, her garden no longer feeling as safe and serene as it had before.

...

As the sun rose and reached its zenith, it began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Alice stood in front of her flower shop, a sense of urgency tugging at her heart as she prepared to head into town. She had heard whispers from Mr. Daz about the rogue wolves, and the town was abuzz with rumors and fear. As she walked, her mind buzzed with anxious thoughts, and the scent of fresh flowers seemed to fade into the background.

Entering the quaint town of Arcidenia, Alice passed by familiar shops and friendly faces, but an undercurrent of tension filled the air. She made her way to the small market square, where townsfolk gathered, their voices a mix of gossip and concern. Alice overheard snippets of conversation as she approached a group standing near the fountain.

“Did you hear about the wolf pack?” one woman exclaimed, her voice quivering. “They’ve been seen close to the edge of the woods, acting strangely.”

“Strangely?” another man scoffed, his brow furrowed. “They’re hungry, that’s all. Starving animals can turn rogue, you know. I wouldn’t be caught dead near those woods at night.”

Alice felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of the woods. She remembered the previous night’s conversation with Mr. Daz and the unease in his eyes. Stealing herself, she approached the group.

“Excuse me,” she interjected, trying to keep her voice steady. “What exactly happened with the wolves?”

An older gentleman turned to her, concerned etched on his face. “It’s the packs. They’ve been coming closer to town, raiding livestock and even threatening folks out in the fields. And the way they’ve been acting… it’s not normal. They’re desperate and dangerous.”

“Some folks claim they’ve seen them move in packs, hunting like they’re driven by something,” a woman added. “It’s not just hunger, there’s something off about them.”

Alice felt her heart race, and she nodded, her thoughts racing back to her garden and the strange bottle she had found. “Do you think they would attack a person?” she asked, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

The man shook his head gravely. “If they feel threatened or cornered, they could. Best to stay inside after dark until this blows over.”

After hearing enough, Alice decided it was time to leave. The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, and the atmosphere in town felt increasingly oppressive. She turned to head home, feeling the weight of the warnings hanging in the air.

...

As she walked, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She passed the edge of the woods, the trees casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist in the fading light. A gust of wind rustled the leaves, and she paused for a moment, glancing into the darkening forest. An unsettling feeling crept over her, and her pace quickened.

A sudden rustling in the underbrush shattered the fragile silence around her. Alice froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Her eyes darted toward the shadows, every muscle tensing in instinctive fear. Emerging from the darkness, a pair of glowing eyes locked onto her, hungry and predatory. As they closed in, she could make out the massive shape of a wolf, its silhouette dark against the fading twilight, its fur bristling as it moved with unnerving deliberation.

Alice’s breath caught, and she took a slow, terrified step back. But the wolf only grew larger in her vision, each step it took adding to its terrifying presence. Its powerful muscles rippled beneath its thick, matted fur, each shift of its frame embodying raw power and feral grace. Her eyes widened as she took in its size—far larger than any wolf she’d ever imagined, and far too close for her to think rationally.

“What… what am I supposed to do?” she whispered to herself, struggling to maintain her composure. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding as she desperately scanned the area, searching for some form of escape.

“Run?” She glanced behind her, gauging the distance to the nearest tree. It was several feet away—she wasn’t sure she could make it without the wolf springing after her. Her legs were strong, and she’d climbed trees countless times before, but this was no casual ascent. If she ran, her movements could trigger the wolf’s instinct to chase, and there was no doubt it would be faster. Her fingers instinctively clutched the small glass bottle hanging around her neck, feeling its cold, reassuring weight as she sought a glimmer of courage.

The bottle had been given to her by the mysterious man she’d met before in her flower shop . She hadn’t thought much of it back then, it was just a strange encounter she’d tucked away in her memory. She’d almost forgotten it entirely, but something about the bottle kept calling her attention back to it, compelling her to keep it close. She’d finally decided to wear it around her neck, tied with a cord so it would always be near her heart. And now, somehow, she found her hand reaching for it, clutching it as if it could protect her.

“Climbing could work, if I could reach it before it pounces.” She weighed her options quickly, her gaze darting to the nearby trees. The lowest branches were high, but if she could leap and grab hold, she might be able to scramble out of reach. Her heart pounded as she entertained the idea, feeling the urgency built as the wolf stalked closer.

The wolf’s snarl tore through her thoughts, its sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Alice took another cautious step back, desperately trying to remain calm. Her eyes never left the wolf’s, hoping—praying—that she might somehow communicate that she meant no harm.

“Maybe… maybe it will lose interest if I stay still.” But as she stood motionless, she saw no sign of the wolf’s patience wearing thin. Instead, it inched forward, its piercing gaze fixed on her as if it were assessing whether she would make a worthwhile meal.

“Come on, Alice,” she muttered under her breath, “Think. There has to be another way.” Her mind spun, each thought feeling more hopeless than the last.

The wolf took another step closer, its powerful form blocking her path back to town. The reality of her situation sank in, icy and unyielding. She couldn’t run, and she couldn’t out power it. The only option left was to hope for a miracle.

In her panic, her fingers tightened instinctively around the bottle. She hadn’t thought much about it when it was first given to her from a stranger. Now, she held it out, almost reflexively, as if it could somehow protect her. The wolf halted, its nostrils flaring as it caught a scent wafting from the bottle. Its glowing eyes narrowed, and Alice could see its powerful muscles tense, this time not with aggression but with what almost seemed like hesitation.

“Is it scared of this?” she wondered aloud, incredulous. The wolf’s demeanor had shifted; its ears flattened, and it took a wary step back, gaze locked on the bottle. Alice’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as she watched, holding the bottle out as a shield.

“Go away,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but steady. “Please… just go away.” She hardly understood what she was saying, but something within her urged her to speak. Her words hung in the air, almost a plea, and she held the bottle higher, letting it catch the faint moonlight that filtered through the trees.

The wolf’s reaction was subtle but unmistakable. Its body lowered, and it let out a soft whine, as if something in the bottle’s presence unnerved it. Alice could hardly believe her eyes. The fierce predator, the towering shadow she’d thought would be her end, was backing down. She watched as it took a few cautious steps away from her, its gaze flickering between her and the bottle.

“What is this thing?” she muttered, clutching the glass tighter. She felt a strange warmth radiating from it now, as though it responded to her fear, glowing faintly under her touch. Her heart raced with a mixture of relief and confusion as she kept her focus on the wolf, uncertain whether it would change its mind at any moment.

The wolf snarled one last time, a low, guttural sound that echoed through the forest. But, as if in resignation, it turned and slunk back into the shadows, its powerful frame disappearing between the trees. Alice’s breath came in shallow gasps as she watched it go, half-expecting it to return. But the night had fallen still again, the silence only broken by her ragged breathing.

It was over. For now.

Alice’s legs felt weak as she turned and began her journey back to town, her mind reeling from the encounter. She clutched the bottle tightly, every step a reminder of the strange power it seemed to hold. What had just happened? Why had the wolf backed down? And what was this bottle really, if it could affect a creature so fierce and wild?

She could still feel the intensity of the wolf’s gaze on her, the memory of those eyes seared into her mind. There was something more to this bottle than she’d realized, something beyond its glass and delicate design. She thought back to the day the mysterious man had handed it to her, a day she’d quickly tried to forget but hadn’t quite managed. She hadn’t understood his cryptic words or why he’d chosen her to carry it, but the glint in his eye had suggested it was important.

But now, with the image of that wolf seared into her memory, Alice couldn’t deny the bottle’s effect. Her mind swam with questions. What kind of object could evoke fear in a creature like that? Was it enchanted? Cursed? She felt a chill run down her spine as the thought crossed her mind—had she unknowingly taken something dangerous, something far beyond her understanding?

As she made her way through the quiet streets of the town, her thoughts kept racing, each new question fueling her anxiety. She was safe for the moment, yet the memory of those eyes and the wolf’s hesitant retreat haunted her.

At last, she reached her small flower shop, the familiar scent of lavender and sage wrapping around her like a balm. She closed the door behind her, locking it with trembling hands, her gaze drifting to the shadows outside. For the first time, her cozy little shop felt vulnerable, as if the thin walls and fragrant flowers couldn’t keep the darkness at bay.

Alice sank onto a stool, clutching the bottle and staring at it as though it might reveal its secrets to her. The glass was smooth, unremarkable, yet now she knew it held something more—something that even the most fearsome creatures feared.

“Just what have I gotten myself into?” she whispered, the weight of the unknown settling on her shoulders.

Just as she locked the door behind her, she caught sight of a figure standing in front of her shop. Alice’s breath hitched as she recognized the tall, mysterious man from the previous encounter. His pale complexion contrasted sharply with the encroaching darkness, and his eyes were cold, indifferent, devoid of any warmth.

“Alice,” he said, his tone flat, as if delivering a message rather than expressing concern. “You shouldn’t have gone to town today. It’s dangerous out there.”

She frowned, confusion mixing with apprehension. “Why? I heard the warnings, but I thought it was just hysteria. There are rogue wolves—”

“Wolves driven by something unnatural,” he interrupted, his expression unchanging. “The blood moon rises tonight, and with it comes a hunger that twists even the gentlest creatures into something monstrous.”

“A blood moon?” she echoed, fear creeping into her voice. “What does that mean for us? For me?”

“You must stay inside tonight,” he stated firmly, stepping closer, his gaze piercing but devoid of any empathy. “Lock your doors and windows. Keep the light inside. If you see shadows moving outside, do not open the door. No matter who calls you.”

Alice swallowed hard, his warning striking a chord deep within her. “But I can’t just hide. I—”

“There’s nothing you can do against what’s coming,” he replied coldly, his demeanor unwavering. “It’s more than just wolves tonight, it’s a force that will bring chaos. You must trust me, Alice. You have the power to protect yourself, but only if you follow my advice.”

Before she could respond, he took a step back, his expression remaining as impassive as before. “Remember what I’ve said. Lock your doors. You’re safe here, but outside… is a different story.”

And just like that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving Alice standing there, confused and unnerved. She took a shaky breath, her heart racing as she replayed his words in her mind. The blood moon, the rogue wolves, the fear—everything seemed to converge into a dark cloud looming over her.

Feeling drained from the day’s events, Alice decided to heed his warning. She moved through her shop, locking every window and door with trembling hands. The world outside seemed to darken as night fell, and the oppressive silence settled in. Shadows danced along the walls, and the wind howled softly outside, adding to the atmosphere of unease.

As she prepared for bed, Alice couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. She lay under the covers, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of the rogue wolves, the cold man, and the strange bottle she had found. Sleep evaded her, and as the minutes turned into hours, she felt a mix of exhaustion and anxiety wash over her.

Eventually, fatigue took over, and she drifted into an uneasy slumber, haunted by dreams of dark woods, glowing eyes, and the chilling sound of distant howls. In the depths of her mind, the blood moon loomed, casting its eerie light over everything, and she knew that whatever awaited her in the morning would not be the same as the world she had left behind.