Rachel Deagan - Caged Moon

"All that circling and sniffing. You know what? Forget it. I don't want to know." I had enough. At this point, I just wanted to find the restrooms, brush my teeth, and go to bed. Hopefully I would wake up in the morning forgetting this entire night existed. Without waiting for a response from the stranger, I held my head high and started carefully walking past him, down the path.

"Hey," he called after me. "You could use this."

Slowly, I turned around to see him gently toss me his flashlight. "Thanks." I turned away from him. My cheeks felt warm. I didn't want to see his expression. With my head down, I started down the path.

"You were gone a while," Dad said, not looking up from his fire. He had several long sticks dangling over the crackling blaze, each with several marshmallows attached at the end. "I was getting worried."

"Sorry." I sat down on the log beside him, relieved to be back in a place of sanity. "Are we expecting company? What's with all the branches?"

"Nope, just trying to get the perfect marshmallow." Dad chuckled. "This camp site is great."

Dad found Eden. I wish I could have said the same. I wanted to curl up in my sleeping bag and forget this night existed. Turning off the flashlight, I placed it down along with my dead one.

"Where'd you get the extra flashlight?"

I sighed, not wanting to explain my strange encounter in the woods. "I found it." I stood up from the log. "Sorry, Dad. I'm really tired from the drive. I'm going to sleep."

"Everything all right?"

"Just tired." I unzipped the small tent entrance and crawled inside without looking back. I felt guilty leaving him there.

I pulled the strap holding my green army looking sleeping bag, letting it unravel by itself, and I slithered inside. It made me feel a little better, the warmth - nice and comfy. Dad had made sure to bring the heavy-duty sleeping bags since the fall weather varied so much. I curled myself into a ball and closed my eyes.

When I opened them sometime later, everything had gone black and Dad snored beside me. I scooped the edge of my sleeping bag tightly under my chin and rolled to my side, trying not to feel the uneasiness of the forest.

A shadow moved outside the tent. My heart quickened.

They found me. Why are they following me?

It could be the drunken men from the office.

I rolled my eyes. The wind, it had to have been the wind. I tried to drift back to sleep, until I heard a small twig snap. A low voice said something outside. My body went cold. I couldn't move.

"Dad," I whispered. He didn't stop snoring and I didn't want to speak louder, afraid that they might hear me. At least voices meant they were human.

It still could have been the wind.

Oh, who am I kidding!

"Where?" a voice said.

"Over there, Nimrod."

"What'd you call me?"

"Shut up you idiots."

I shot upright. My sleeping bag fell down around me, but I didn't care - as if a piece of cloth would protect me. A familiar scent of musky pine saturated the air, but new variations filtered it: birch, rust, and something close to warm honey. With my lack of vision, my other senses screamed.

My fingers ran across the thick sleeping bag that had become twisted from my restless sleep, and searched for the flashlight. I touched the smooth round frame, and turned it on, illuminating the small enclosure.

A brush of wind and several shadows swept by the side of the tent. I jumped. A crack sounded, feet shuffled, then all went silent. My pulse thudded in my ears.

I crawled to the tent flap, my muscles stiff and heavy, and then undid the zipper. The crisp air made me shiver, but I didn't go back for my coat. I didn't see anyone so I made my way out.

A dull smoldering hue burned from the ashes of Dad's fire and the smell of sulfur so strong, that I couldn't discern the other scents anymore. I glanced at the Jeep. Everything seemed intact. Had I scared them off?

"Hey." A voice spoke behind me. "You okay?"

The flashlight fizzled out. I went to flick it back on, but my fingers trembled so hard I couldn't get it to work. I tapped it several times then smacked it across my thigh.

"You know, I'm not going to want it back if it's broken."

I froze, knowing the owner of the voice. Why couldn't I get my fingers to work right?

"Hey, it's okay. Relax." He looked like a shadow as he moved closer, placing his hand on the top of mine. "Here." He took the flashlight from my hands and turned it on. "They're gone. See?" He cast the light around the camp.

"Did you see them? Were they the guys from the office? They were drunk earlier and I thought..." I paused. His warm scent filled my nose and I shook my head. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"

The boy fidgeted. He wouldn't look at me. "I'm not following you, Charlotte. Your camp is right here along my walking route. I just happened by when I heard shuffling around your site. I was worried."

"Your walking route?" My brows furrowed. "Who in their right mind walks around the woods at...at...whatever ridiculous hour this is?"

He remembered my name.

He shifted awkwardly and pointed to the moon. "Three fifteen in the morning." He gave me a small smile, surprisingly gentle, which I hadn't expected. It temporarily knocked me off my guard, making me blink.

"Three fifteen? Please. How can you possibly know that?" I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small watch head dial. It read three fifteen.

"Well, who goes for a walk at three fifteen in the morning?"

"Me."

"Why?"

He ran his hand through his messy hair. "It's peaceful? I don't know. No one's around at this hour; it's nice."

"This is the woods; no one's around at twelve in the afternoon either." I said.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Well it's not everyday I have a strange boy following me."

The boy grinned crookedly. "I'm not following you and I'm not that strange."

"Yes you are." I said. "And that goes for both of those statements" I turned from him. "Who are you anyway?" The night air made me shiver. I sat on the log by the smoldering remains of Dad's fire and rubbed my hands.

"Liam," he whispered as he circled behind me. I looked in the direction of his voice, but he had already sat down on the opposite log. My nerves jumped.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" he asked.

I glared at him, but he seemed confused. "Moving so fast like that. It's dark and...do you live here or something?"

The way he sat there, leaning on his elbows, watching me, made me nervous.

"Sort of." His attention shifted to something in the trees. He tilted his head and when I followed his gaze to the dark growth, goose bumps flushed across my spine. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel it. The wolves just out of sight, watched us, and moved with silent steps against the stilled forest ground.

My body tensed. Did he see them? No one ever had before.

"What is it?" I asked, realizing I wanted him to say that he saw them.

"Nothing," he said.

I cursed myself when I felt the pinch of disappointment, but he didn't change his focal point.

"I live a few miles from here on the outskirts of Maplefield."

"Liam?" I asked.

He shook his head, making his hair fall half in his face, and looked up at me, away from the trees. "Sorry. It's nothing."

I blinked my mind into focus and then said it. "I know what's out there. You saw them, didn't you?"

Even in the dim lighting, he appeared ashen. "What are you talking about? The men who were here? No, they're gone."

"No. Not that." I motioned my head towards the trees.

His sneakers shifted against the dirt. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you don't need to worry about those people. They're not coming back. You're safe."