Page 2 of Howling Night

“There are no bears here,” I said, glancing toward the kitchen as my stomach rumbled.

“The hell there isn’t,” Annie said sharply. “Google it.”

I covered my yawn. “Okay, I will. It’s not like I was napping outside.”

“You probably didn’t even lock your front door,” Annie said, clicking her tongue.

I glanced over at the door, noticing she was right. “I’m fine, Annie.”

“Well, you should have called,” she said, drawing in a breath. “How’s the frozen north? Have you seen any moose yet? Or is it meese? What’s the plural for moose?”

“No meeses yet,” I said with a laugh. “You know I’m really not that far from you. It basically looks the same, but with trees instead of buildings.”

Annie and I had been friends since college, and her energy had always been both comforting and exhausting. We hadn’t worked together in the city, but we’d been in neighboring buildings and had lunch almost every day.

That was the only thing I was going to miss. Well, not just lunch with Annie, but Annie too.

“There was a very judgmental bluejay that watched me from the tree when I was unpacking my car,” I said, narrowing my eyes toward the window.

“Send me pictures of the house,” Annie said, squeaking slightly. “Is it charming? Or is it giving murder cabin vibes? Because I warned you?—”

“It’s perfect,” I said, pacing the creaky floor. “Small, but very quiet.”

There was a pause on the other end. When Annie spoke again, her voice had lost some of its buoyancy.

“I miss you already,” Annie said, sighing. “It’s going to be unbearable here without you.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, moving into the kitchen to gaze out between the trees toward the lake. “Besides, you can visit me anytime.”

“Can I? Really? Because I was thinking maybe in a few weeks?—”

“Annie.”

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “You moved to the middle of nowhere to get away from everything. To clear your head. I get it, I do. But just so you know, I will visit. Eventually. When you’re ready.”

I bit my lip, hesitating. “Thanks for understanding. It’s not like I’m trying to get away from you.”

“I know,” Annie said.

“But I need to unpack and get settled,” I said, turning to face all the boxes. “I promise to send pictures when I get things in order, okay?”

We chatted for a few more minutes… she talked about work, gossip I’d already missed over the last twenty-four hours since I’d left. Then we said our goodbyes.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. I glanced around at the boxes stacked in every corner, at the mammoth task of unpacking that awaited me.

I wanted to crawl into bed, but I wasn’t even sure which box had my sheets. The walls suddenly seemed to close in.

I needed air.

The backdoor opened onto a small wooden deck overlooking a yard that had seen better days. The grass grew in patchy clumps, interspersed with dandelions, and what I hoped wasn’t poison ivy. At the back of the property was a concrete birdbath, cracked and empty, near an oak tree.

Beyond the neglected yard, the woods beckoned. Tall pines, evergreens, and birch trees stretched in both directions, creating a natural fence line at the edge of my property.

I stepped off the deck, the grass cool against my bare feet. The evening air had a crisp edge to it, carrying the scent of pine and something else — something mineral and maybe slightly fishy that could only be the lake.

At the edge of the tree line, I hesitated. City instincts told me not to wander into unfamiliar woods as dusk approached. But this was my property now. My woods. My escape. It wasn’t like I’d go far.

I walked closer to the trees and discovered what I hadn’t noticed from the house — a narrow dirt path, barely visible among the undergrowth, winding its way into the forest. It was somewhat hard to see with all the foliage, but it had been used enough that nothing grew on the path itself.

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