HOWLING HEARTS

Isla gripped the steering wheel as her car bumped along the narrow, winding road leading to Silver Hollow. The last rays of the setting sun dipped behind the towering pines, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out, beckoning her deeper into the forest. She rolled her window down slightly, the cool air of early autumn whipping against her skin. The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled the car, refreshing but laced with something darker. Something ancient. She couldn’t place it—couldn’t quite explain the feeling—but it settled deep in her bones, like a warning. A chill crept up her spine, and she shivered despite herself. "You’re just being dramatic," she muttered, shaking her head as she glanced at the worn map on the seat beside her. Silver Hollow was supposed to be her escape—a quiet, hidden town where no one knew her name, where her past couldn’t follow. After everything she’d been through, all the betrayals and heartbreak, she was ready for the isolation. The town appeared suddenly, nestled in a valley surrounded by endless forest. It was smaller than she had imagined. Quaint. The kind of place where everyone knew each other’s business, where rumors spread like wildfire. She parked her car in front of a weathered inn, its sign swinging lazily in the breeze. The Silver Fox Inn. Her new home. She stepped out of the car, stretching her legs, and took in her surroundings. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few shadowy figures walking hurriedly to their homes. The sound of a distant howl echoed through the town just as dusk fell completely. Isla froze. A wolf? No, it couldn’t be. She had read about wolves in the area, but they were supposed to keep to the forests, away from the town. That howl, though—it was closer than she expected, far too close. A door creaked open behind her, and she turned to see a figure standing in the doorway of the inn. An older woman with a kind but weathered face, her gray hair tied up in a loose bun. "You must be Isla," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Yes, I am," Isla replied, offering a small smile. "It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Braxton." The woman nodded, stepping aside to let Isla into the inn. "You’re braver than most, coming here alone," she said, her gaze lingering on the darkening forest beyond the town. "But I suppose everyone who comes to Silver Hollow is running from something." Isla swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Was it that obvious? Mrs. Braxton led her inside, the scent of wood smoke and something comforting, like baked apples, welcoming her. The inn was cozy, a stark contrast to the eerie feeling outside. Isla let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "You’ll get used to the howls," Mrs. Braxton said over her shoulder, her tone casual, though something flickered in her eyes. "They say the wolves are harmless, as long as you stay in town after dark." Isla paused, her curiosity piqued. "Do you hear them often?" "More than we’d like to admit," Mrs. Braxton replied, her lips pressing into a thin line. "But don’t you worry. The wolves keep to themselves… most of the time." Isla nodded, though unease settled in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the story, something the townsfolk weren’t saying. As she made her way up to her room, a creaky old door on the second floor, she thought back to the howl. The sound wasn’t like anything she’d ever heard before—so raw, so close. It was almost... human. She shook the thought away. She had come here to forget, to heal, not to chase after strange noises in the night. But as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. That something—someone—was out there, waiting. Then, just as she began to drift off to sleep, another howl broke the silence. This one was closer. Much closer.