by Skye Jones
I could almost feel my spine become strong and rigid as Grandma’s voice washed over me in a rush of welcome memories. I was no scaredy cat!
Tap, tap, screech. I examined the situation with my rational mind, and guessed it would be nothing more than a branch tapping and sliding against the glass in the wind. It certainly explained the regular, rhythmic quality of the noise. Happy to have a sensible answer for the strange sound, I slid back down under the covers and closed my eyes. Despite feeling reassured, I still slipped my hand out of the warmth covering me and rested it gently on Sandy’s head.
Chapter Two
The next day dawned brighter than the previous. The sun shone through the curtains hanging over the window, and I stretched with a smile as Sandy yawned and licked her nose. The strange noises from last night seemed unreal and dreamlike in the bright, cheery light of the room.
As soon as I got up, Sandy jumped out of her basket and followed me, right on my heels. Nothing would keep her from breakfast. The morning feed was her favorite time of day, even more so than when we went out for our long walks. When I opened the kitchen door to let her out, the sun hit my face, warming my skin and relaxing me another notch. Today might be a good day to take some pictures. I’d wanted to photograph the small woodcutter’s cottage I was staying in for some time, but the weather thwarted me at every turn.
Sandy did her business, then cocked her head to one side, ears alert. She took off at a fast pace around the corner of the cabin, and curious I followed her, bare feet ice-cold on the damp grass. I rounded the corner and came to a dead stop. Sandy stood under my bedroom window, sniffing at the ground determinedly. But it wasn’t Sandy who stopped me in my tracks, rather the stone-cold realization that no branches came anywhere near the window from the tree by the house. There was simply no way a branch could have been scratching against the glass last night.
“What you doing there, girl?” I moved toward Sandy, who now pawed at the ground, before going back to sniffing again with a fervent determination.
Upon reaching her, I looked down and nearly let out a scream. If I’d been a different sort of a girl, a girly-girl, I would have screamed in that moment. I did bite my lip as I stared at the ground, my heart beating hard against my rib cage. Deep, large footprints crowded under my window. They were definitely big enough to belong to a man, or men. The number of prints and the odd pattern they formed meant I couldn’t tell if they belonged to a single person or many. Amongst the indents left by feet there were a few paw prints scattered around. So they’d brought dogs with them? Planning to hunt maybe. I shivered with dread.
The sounds at my window the previous evening came back to me as I stared at those footprints, and I swallowed hard. Poachers! It had to be. David, the ranger, had warned me about them when I took the research post. I wasn’t to challenge them, but I was to report any activity to him. So as soon as I’d had my morning coffee, I’d be giving David a call and letting him know they’d been at the cabin. They probably meant to scare me away. Didn’t want the wildlife here researched, documented, and protected. Bastards! Yep, I’d be giving him the lowdown on their nocturnal activity, all right.
Three hours later, and the ranger had been and gone. He’d taken photos of the footprints and asked if I wanted him to stay for the night. I’d declined his offer. Something told me he might be more of a handful than the poachers. Especially since he’d spent all morning talking to my chest. It was at times like these I hated my huge boobs. They were always the center of attention amongst a certain type of man. Being petite but curvy, I either found myself with guys staring at my boobs or bum, or with boyfriends who helpfully told me how to lose the odd pound or two. It didn’t enamor the male gender to me.
Still, I felt reassured that he lived only fifteen minutes away by car, if I needed him, and he’d promised me his satellite phone would always remain on. Any more trouble, and I should call him straight away.
I decided to play hooky and read out on the lawn for an hour, wrapped in my favorite wool throw. I made myself a cup of tea and grabbed one of the kitchen chairs, dragging it out to place on the overly long grass of the garden. Who knew when we’d see the sun again? My jeans and jumper kept me warm enough, since the day had grown unseasonably warm, so I placed the throw across my lap.
I’d only read about five pages when the sound of an engine had me looking up. A small red car approached down the gravel track to the cottage and pulled to a stop. Frowning, I watched as an old lady clambered out, adjusting her jacket as she stood and slammed the car door with surprising strength. She looked very old, as in late-eighties old, and yet she moved with the strength and grace of someone much younger.
“Hello, dear,” she called out, walking over the gravel and onto the lawn. “I’ve come to welcome you to the area. I live in the farmhouse over the hill there.” She pointed with one long, manicured finger behind her.
“I baked you some cakes and scones.” She opened her cavernous bag and pulled out a Tupperware container. “Don’t want you going hungry out here. I must say, I don’t really like the idea of a young woman alone in these hills.”
I smiled at her, oddly touched by her gesture. “Thank you…” I didn’t know her name.
“Elsie, dearie. My name’s Elsie.”
“I’m Brooke.” I held my hand out and Elsie grasped it in hers, gave it a quick squeeze, and let go.
“Let’s go in, and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”
Sandy came running out to greet us. As soon as she spotted the retriever, Elsie gave me a beaming smile and grabbed my arm. “Oh, I’m so relieved to see you’ve got a canine companion. I have been utterly wrecked at the idea of a young girl out here all alone.”
“I’m a scientist,” I said, trying to put some authority into my voice. The other issue with being so small was people not taking me seriously. “I’m trained to do this. I’ve got a satellite phone. The ranger is only fifteen minutes away, and I have a computer to provide a window to the outside world. I’m fine, honestly.” I paused, and then something made me carry on and say what I’d meant to keep to myself. “Or I would be, if those damned poachers would leave me alone.”
“Poachers?” Elsie’s face grew serious.
“Yeah. Someone came a tapping at my window last night. Reckon it was poachers trying to scare me.”
“Or something else,” Elsie intoned darkly.
“What else could it be? They left footprints, the idiots.”
Elsie followed me into the cottage, and I motioned for her to sit.
“There are things in these mountains and forests we can’t always explain.” Elsie settled herself into one of the chairs with a sigh. “This is one of the most isolated areas in the whole of Europe. Things live here many wouldn’t believe. You need to be careful while you’re staying here, lassie. Don’t be out late when the sun’s low in the sky. Always make sure you’re back at the cabin before dark. Don’t go too far into the woods, and always lock your door.”
I grew cold at Elsie’s words and her somber tone. “I’m not planning on wandering around in the dark, don’t worry. But I did think I’d go for a walk today. I’ve got a map, a compass, and a satellite phone, in case the worst happens and I get lost. I shouldn’t do, though.”
“Always take your dog with you.” Elsie nodded toward Sandy. “It’s best not to walk alone around these parts. And don’t be…giving time to any young men who stop you on your journeys. The…boys around here, they’re not to be trusted.”
I relaxed a little then; clearly, she was merely a nice old busybody worried about protecting my virtue. If only she knew, I’d lost it a long time ago and didn’t miss it one bit.
We chatted for a while and ate a delicious scone each before Elsie decided she’d better be getting along. When she reached her car, she stilled, hand on the door, and turned back to me.
“I expect you think I’m just some nosy old bat. And maybe I am. But you mark my words; be careful. There are things in this world we h
umans have no understanding of. Not anymore. We used to do, before we let modern living wash all our old knowledge away. Myths endure, but people see them as nothing more than stories. Some are simply that—silly tales and old superstitions. But some things we fear the most, they… Oh, listen to me.” She flushed slightly. “You’ll be thinking me mad, not simply eccentric. But do be careful, my dear. These woods are not your friend. Most certainly not after dark.”
With those words, she climbed into her car and drove down the gravel path, waving her hand out the window as she went. I shook my head as the car disappeared, oddly disturbed by her superstitious mutterings. In fact, I experienced anger toward her for coming here and scaring me with her silly old tales of things that went bump in the night. A lesser woman might have turned tail and fled back to the nearest city—and a faceless chain motel—but not me. I decided to get Sandy’s lead and go for a walk in the very woods Elsie warned me of.
We walked for miles, and I took photo after photo, so awed by the beauty surrounding me I didn’t notice the night drawing in until the sun had sunk low on the horizon. Realizing we’d better hurry to get back before dark, I called Sandy to me and began to walk the way we’d come. By the time we reached the cottage, the gloaming was well and truly upon us. We walked into the clearing in front of the wooden house, and Sandy gave a low growl. I glanced down and followed the direction she faced…and my breath caught in my chest. A wolf stood, not two feet from the cottage, its fur ghostly silver in the dusk.
Nothing around us moved as I stared at the animal. Not blinking once, it stared right back at me. Its eyes glowed eerily bright, and it slowly moved its head from me to Sandy and back again. It watched us for a long moment then turned and raced away into the woods to the left of the house.
For the longest time after it disappeared, I didn’t move. Sandy didn’t either; she seemed as discombobulated as I felt. Finally, I forced my legs to move forward, one after the other, until we reached the door of the cottage. We got inside, and I turned all the lights on, shutting out the gloom. Along with the poachers, wolves, and God knew what else.
I couldn’t believe it, but I was a biologist and knew a wolf when I saw one. I racked my brain for some rational explanation for wolves in these parts. Maybe a reintroduction program had begun? Something top secret, but there’d be no way I’d not have been informed if that were the case.
Perhaps it had escaped from a zoo? Except the nearest zoo was hundreds of miles away, and surely an escaped wolf would have been on the news? I’d need to ring Dave again to tell him, but not tonight. I didn’t find myself scared of the wolf—it didn’t present any threat to me now that I was in my cottage, door locked. I’d call first thing in the morning and tell him what I’d seen. He probably wouldn’t believe me.
After a long soak in the bath, and a glass of wine to calm my slightly on-edge mind, I let Sandy out, making sure to make plenty of noise. The outside light burned brightly in order to scare off any more wildlife that might harm my baby. Then we both retired. Part of me wanted to move the bed away from the window, but I pulled up my big-girl pants and refused to do anything quite so childish.
Two hours later, I awoke. Tap, tap, screech. Dread unfurled in my gut. It stole my breath and turned my flesh to ice.
“I’m getting the fucking gun,” I told Sandy, as loudly as possible, hoping the men outside would hear. “I’ve had enough of this shit. And I’m calling the police.”
“Won’t do you any good.” A quiet, firm voice spoke to me from only inches away.
And then I did scream.
