Chapter 7

The grass was taller than me.

Mama said not to wander into it alone, but the butterflies kept landing farther and farther away. I was only a little colt. The world was big and green and full of interesting things.

By the time I realized I couldn’t see the herd anymore, the sun was already touching the trees.

I whinnied.

No answer.

The wind sighed through the grass.

Then something else sighed back.

It sounded… wrong.

Not like a horse.

Not like a wolf.

Like someone trying to remember how breathing worked.

I froze.

The sound came again.

Hhhhhhhhhh…

Crack.

A twig snapped inside the forest.

Something was there.

I stared into the shadows between the trees.

At first I thought it was a tree trunk.

Then it moved.

One leg unfolded.

Then another.

Then another.

And another.

Far too many.

The thing stepped from the darkness.

My stomach dropped.

It looked like a wolf stretched into a nightmare.

Its body was skinny and hairless, covered in pale gray skin that hung loose from its bones. Its legs were impossibly long and thin, like black spindles holding up a dead puppet.

Its back arched so high that its shoulders towered above the bushes.

Its head was the worst part.

The muzzle was too long.

The eyes were too small.

The mouth…

The mouth split almost all the way up the sides of its face.

And it was smiling.

I couldn’t move.

The wolf tilted its head.

Then tilted it farther.

And farther.

Until it hung upside down.

The smile never changed.

“Hellooooooo.”

The voice sounded exactly like my mother.

Every hair on my body stood up.

Mama wasn’t here.

Mama wasn’t in the woods.

The thing took another step.

Its legs bent the wrong direction.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

I finally ran.

The grass whipped my face as I galloped.

Behind me came the sound of those awful legs.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Not running.

Walking.

Slowly.

Like it knew it didn’t need to hurry.

I dared to glance back.

The wolf was still smiling.

Still walking.

But somehow it was closer.

Much closer.

I ran harder.

The herd had to be nearby.

Had to be.

Then I heard my mother’s voice.

“Sweetheart!”

Relief flooded me.

“Mama!”

I turned toward the sound—

—and almost ran straight into the wolf.

It was standing there.

Right in front of me.

The same smile.

The same tiny eyes.

The same spindle legs.

Its mouth opened.

Inside was another mouth.

And inside that mouth was another.

And another.

Rows and rows disappearing into darkness.

“Mama’s not coming.”

I screamed.

Then, far away, I heard real horses.

The herd.

Real hoofbeats.

Real voices.

The wolf heard them too.

For the first time, its smile twitched.

It hated the sound.

The creature slowly backed away.

One step.

Two.

Three.

Its legs folded and unfolded like a giant spider’s.

Then it slipped between the trees.

Gone.

The herd found me minutes later.

I was shaking so hard I could barely stand.

They searched the forest the next morning.

There were no tracks.

No fur.

No signs of anything.

The adults said I’d imagined it.

That I’d been scared and lost.

Maybe.

But sometimes, at night, when the wind blows through the grass, I hear something breathing outside the pasture.

Hhhhhhhhhh…

And once, under the moonlight, I saw a shape standing at the edge of the trees.

Far too tall.

Balanced on thin, spindle-like legs.

Smiling.

Waiting for me to wander off again.