Molly
The woods look different at night.
Not scary in a horror movie way, but quiet in a way that makes every sound feel louder than it should. When I step out of my car and walk toward the shelter, there are still a few people around. Workers mostly. Folding tables. Stacking crates. Rolling up cables.
One of them spots me and straightens. “Miss? Can we help you?”
“I’m looking for something,” I say, lifting my torch a little. “Did you see a man come through here earlier? Tall. Long hair.”
He shakes his head. “No. Not since the group left.”
“Okay,” I say, already expecting that. “What about a necklace? Moon pendant. Probably shiny. Probably dramatic.”
Another worker laughs softly. “Sorry. Haven’t seen anything like that.”
I nod. “Figured.”
I take a step toward the path and they ex
