N. Walters: Howl of the Wolf

Sabrina touched her necklace one final time as she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Slightly more relaxed, she picked up a charcoal pencil and began to sketch her friend in action. No more dark drawings for her. At least not today.

Sabrina loved working at Café Ledet, both behind the counter and when she did card readings. The crowd was always eclectic and never failed to entertain and inspire her. It was a welcome supplement to her art career, which was growing nicely. She’d had a good day in the Square and had sold five larger paintings as well as two-dozen art cards that she’d had printed of some of her more popular pieces.

Days like today always made her feel good, but a late buyer had left her running slightly behind schedule. Not that she was complaining, as the guy had laid out three hundred dollars for one of her new canvases. She’d managed a quick trip home to drop off her gear, change her top and grab a salad before hurrying back to the café for her night job.

Tilly had left to run an errand but had promised to be back by the time the café closed at nine. As promised, Jessica was sitting in a corner reading a book while she ate a brownie and sipped not a latte, but an iced coffee. Sabrina checked her watch. It was half past eight. Only thirty minutes until she was done for the evening.

She’d had three readings tonight, which wasn’t bad for a Wednesday evening. There was always a bigger crowd on Friday and Saturday nights, but she preferred to work the weekday nights for those who didn’t like to come downtown on the busier weekend evenings. Tilly let her set up and do readings in a corner table, not charging her for the space or asking for part of her fee. To Tilly’s way of thinking, if folks came in for a reading, they would always buy something to eat or drink before or after their reading. And ninety percent of the time they dragged a friend or two with them and they bought something as well.

The arrangement worked out great for both of them. Café Ledet was well known for having a tarot reader there six nights a week, so she wasn’t the only professional working there in the evenings. There were two other women who came in two nights a week to do readings as well. Sunday evenings were reserved for live music, usually a solo performer with a guitar.

The art on the wall was available for sale and Tilly got a commission for whatever she sold. That was more than fair to Sabrina’s way of thinking. She studied the paintings as she absently shuffled her tarot deck. Tilly had two of her pieces left, but it was probably time to swap them out. After a while, the regulars stopped noticing the canvases if they weren’t changed. She’d do that tomorrow when she stopped by for her morning coffee.

The low hum of the music and conversation soothed her as she continued to shuffle the cards. The long, warm day in the Square coupled with her restless night had left her drowsy. She yawned and glanced at her watch again. Twenty-five minutes left.

The café closed at nine on weeknights and eleven on the weekend. Tilly would be back soon and then the three of them would head around the corner to her apartment. She hoped whatever Jessica had in mind would work. She could use a night without dreams.

Her eyes were heavy and she closed them to rest a moment. She swayed to the jazzy music drifting out from the stereo speakers, letting the music soothe her soul. Her surroundings melted away. Shadows filled her mind but quickly parted to reveal the bayou. Some folks found it scary out there, but she loved it, always had.

The cypress trees were heavily laden with Spanish moss, giving the entire area a ghostly appearance at night. Marshy grasses sprang up under her feet. The world was alive with the music of the bayou as the sun sank in the distance, bathing the land in its dying colors. The grasshoppers chirped, insects buzzed and the bullfrogs sang their nocturnal song. Something flew overhead, probably an owl or a bat, and in the distance she heard a splash as something entered the water.

The pathway before her was familiar, one she’d walked most of her young life. Her grandmother was gone, but the little house and the land on the edge of the bayou were still there, still called to her when she needed to get away from the noise and business of the city. Now they belonged to her.

She heard a low hiss and froze in her tracks. There in the grass three feet in front of her was a snake that stretched about four feet in length. She couldn’t tell if it was poisonous or not, but it was always better to err on the side of caution and let it pass. She curled her toes into the warm dirt beneath her bare feet and stood still as the snake slithered over some moss and through the grass. It paused for a moment and seemed to study her. She held her breath, releasing it slowly as the creature eventually moved on.

Sabrina continued walking but paused to pick up a sturdy stick from the ground. It would work to flick away a snake if she came across another one. The air was thick with moisture and the atmosphere seemed to close in around her, the scent of water and slightly rotting vegetation mixed with the sweeter perfume of the irises and other wildflowers that edged the path.

Why was it taking so long to reach her grandmother’s?

Frowning, she stopped and turned in a complete circle to get her bearings. There was no doubt she was on the right track, but she didn’t seem to be getting any closer to her destination.

The frogs and insects suddenly went quiet and the night seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. The animals that populated the swamp went silent, neither moving nor vocalizing. Something had disturbed them. Was it a cougar? They were rare in this area, but they did make their presence known from time to time.

The air in front of her seemed to coalesce and she could make out a shape in the near distance. She increased her grip on the stick, ready for anything. It wasn’t an alligator as it was too high off the ground.

A low growl made the short hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. Whatever it was, it was big. She took a small step back but paused when the growling got louder and closer. She couldn’t run. To an animal, anything running was prey to be hunted. All she could do was stand her ground, pray and wait for her opportunity to escape.

The necklace warmed against her skin and the tattoo on her back began to itch. It felt as though it was trying to shift position on her skin, which was impossible. She’d experienced the sensation several times before in her life, always at times when she was either in great danger or a life-changing event was about to occur. Either way, it left her even more unsettled.

A bead of sweat trickled down her back and, in spite of the moist heat making her clothing stick to her skin, chill bumps covered her arms. Two eyes glowed in the thickening darkness, the overhead canopy of dense branches and vines making it harder for the dying rays of the sun to peek through. She swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat. “Who’s there?” Not that she expected an animal to answer her, but hearing her own voice gave her courage.

She held the stick out in front of her, pointing one end toward the animal. “Go on now. I don’t want any trouble.”

The low growl was more menacing than anything she’d ever heard, and she had to force herself not to turn tail and run. Whatever it was, she couldn’t outrun it. The house wasn’t close enough for her to reach before whatever was out there would be on her.

It moved and caused the dry grass to crackle beneath its feet. The heavy panting got louder. It was coming toward her. The shadows shifted like a curtain opening to reveal the creature. Oh, it was magnificent and terrifying all at once. It was the largest wolf she’d ever seen, too large to be real.