Mabel was wandering her garden. It helped settle her mind, and it helped her keep track of everything in it. She needed to walk and touch and feel: life was just a bit too much right now. She was over by the fence. ‘Unprotected area,’ Lil had called it, but it still needed the same care as the rest of the garden.
Behind her, something scuttled. The woodpile was there. Without turning, she said, “I have to admit, I’m glad you’re there. I miss your mate something dreadful.”
There was a silence, then a low chuckle. Mabel turned quickly. The laugh wasn’t that of a woodpile creature. It was something much darker.
There was nothing there.
“Not safe,” said a child’s voice. “You should be careful about being not safe. I don’t like you, you see.”
Hah, Mabel thought. Safety is just two steps aw
