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In the Quiet Snow

I am in the woods at night, walking. The new moon, high overhead. The soft snow, gently falling, muffles the sounds around me. It’s beautiful in its eeriness. A snap of a twig echoes through the strange, muted quiet. Looking behind me, I can see no movement through the trees.

A limb must have broken from the weight of the snow.

I think to myself. I continue on my way. Another snap and I whip around and catch a glimpse of some great shadow moving behind the trees a few miles back. I start walking more quickly now. A low, mournful howl echoes through the branches of the forest. My knife is in my hand now as I run. I can hear paws padding softly on the snow behind me.

It’s catching up

I think to myself. I stop and turn, my knife pointed at the beast. My body shakes as I try to stand my ground. Finally I can see it coming up. A massive, emaciated wolf. It’s flesh, a map of scars. I can see knives and needles stuck into its body as it slowly approaches. I can feel the deep and desperate hunger radiating out from the creature. It’s only a few short feet away now. Tears stream down its snout from its blue eyes. She lets out a soft whine before she lays down right at my feet.

I sit bolt upright in bed and I look around.

Blue, enchanted sconces. A four poster bed. Soft sheets. A woman next to me. It was a dream. I feel my own face, damp from tears. My underwraps are still on me but my ropes are undone. I shut my eyes and dig my nails into my palm.

It was just a dream.

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