there are many paths to tread
The full moon cast its glow over the forest, its light trickling between the leaves and turning the path he walked upon silvery. Fog curled at his footsteps as he walked, dewdrops glistening on the leaves. It was so bright, yet so dark - he was walking through a shadowland, a silent forest whose trees were dark and watchful.
Every noise was painfully obvious, from the crickets chirping in the brush to the owl hooting in the distance. The leathery whisper of wings overhead drew his attention, and the horned man turned just in time to see a bat swooping off in the distance.
And yet, when he stopped to watch it pass, the sound of footsteps did not.
Slowly, intentionally, Toulouse turned off the forest path.
Vegetation seemed to swallow his legs whole, scratching as he ankles and fetlocks with every step he took. Without looking back, without tipping his follower off, he began to make his own path through the trees, weaving and zig zagging around beech and hickory trees. And all the while, the feeling of being watched and the subtle sound of hoofbeats followed.
He isn’t sure how long he walked; long enough for his body to feel warm, despite the dropping temperatures. But eventually the forest opening up into a clearing, where the full moon shown directly overhead. With a wolfish smile slipping easily into place, he stepped beneath it.
For a moment, the wind was the only thing he heard, whispering through the grass and the tree canopies. His eyes, appearing silver in the moonlight, took in the dark and silent forest.
“Come on out,” he said at last, his voice low. “I promise I don’t bite.”
Usually.
@
