Moonlight and Magic

The fog didn’t wait for night. I was still wearing my work shoes. The left one had a hole near the toe, and my feet were screaming by the time I hit the edge of the woods. Ten-hour Friday shift. Tips barely covered gas. Karen, from table twelve, sent her steak back twice and then complained the remake was too salty. Now I was cutting through the woods' edge, the same shortcut I’d taken a thousand times. Save ten minutes. Get home faster. The trees creaked before the wind hit. That’s new. I stopped, listened. Nothing. The fog moved against the breeze. I saw it drift sideways while the air stayed still on my face. That’s not how fog works. I told myself it was exhaustion. Low blood sugar. The path curved around the old oak with the split trunk, the one I’d used as a landmark since I was twelve. Except tonight it wasn’t on my left. Okay. That’s… that’s not possible. I know this trail. I’ve walked it in the dark, in the rain, in the dead of winter when the ground was so frozen my boots sounded like hammers. The trees creaked again. I turned slowly, trying to spot the diner lights through the gaps. Nothing but gray. The fog had swallowed everything, the road, the sky, the line between ground and air. “Get a grip,” I muttered aloud to myself. “It’s just fog. You’re tired.” That’s when I saw the eyes. Gold. Molten. Hanging in the dark about twenty feet ahead, level with my chest. They didn’t blink. They didn’t move. My heart slammed into my ribs. I froze. Every instinct screaming run, but my legs wouldn’t obey. The eyes shifted—not side to side, but forward. No. Bigger than any wolf I’d ever seen. Shoulder height on a deer, muscle coiled under a coat of shadow and silver. Its breath came in slow plumes, visible in the cold air. It didn’t growl. Didn’t bare teeth. The air between us thickened. Something in my chest yanked forward, a pressure behind my ribs like a fist grabbing hold of something I didn’t know I had. Heat flooded my veins, not panic-heat, not fever-heat. Something deeper, older. I stumbled back, my world going black. ✦ The fog was thinner. I must have passed out because I woke to gray light filtering through the canopy—dawn, maybe, or just the moon breaking through. My head pounded. My mouth tasted like dirt and copper. I sat up slow, hands pressing into the wet leaves. The wolf was gone. The path was right where it should be. I sat there for a long moment, breathing. "Okay. That happened. Or I dreamed it.” I muttered to myself as I pushed myself to my feet, brushing the leaves off my work pants. The collar of my shirt was wet. My chest felt like it was burning. I yanked my collar down and looked. There was a mark on my chest, just above where my heart would be if it wasn’t trying to pound its way out. I scrubbed at it with my thumb. It didn’t smudge. Didn’t fade. I pulled my hoodie collar up, covered the mark, and started walking. Fast. Almost running. The town was dark when I broke through the treeline. Streetlights hummed. Porch lights glowed. Normal. Quiet. But it felt different now. The houses looked darker. The streetlights flickered as I passed under them, just once, like a blink. I told myself it was old wiring. The gas station on the corner was closed. The sign buzzed. The lights inside were off. My boots hit the gravel path to Grandma Rose’s house. Her cottage sat at the end of the lane, dark except for the porch light. I’d made it. Grandma Rose stood in the doorway. She wasn’t in her robe. Wasn’t holding a cup of tea. She was fully dressed in jeans, a flannel, and boots, like she hadn’t gone to bed at all. Her silver hair was loose. Not surprised. Waiting. I opened my mouth. Tried to find a lie, an excuse, some normal thing to say as I made a beeline for the porch. “I’m fine. It was just a long shift. I got spooked in the fog.” Instead, I said nothing as I closed the distance. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.