I awoke with a scream, yet another nightmare ripping me from much needed sleep. They were becoming too much of a habit, but I'd found my own way for dealing with them - to walk it off. I slipped out of the warm comfort of my bed and into the crisp coolness of my fitted black t-shirt and baggy gray cargo pants - my favorite clothes, they sat right at my hips, accentuating the curves without screaming for attention, and they were comfortable. I dragged on a jacket and my lugs before heading out the door and down the road, leading away from sleep, and away from the things that haunted my dreams.
The moon loomed large over the tree tops as my footfalls echoed quietly on the dirt road. My breath hung before me, frosty in the late autumn air, and the few leaves that drifted in the road crunched under the weight of my boots. Before reaching the bridge, I turned off, to the left, onto a path leading through the woods. The river ran to the right of the path, and the path itself was darkened by the overhanging trees, only slivers of moonlight shivered in the spaces between. The night was full of sounds not quite heard, and the slightly musky aroma of decaying leaves mingled with fireplaces and woodstoves.
I slid my hands into the pockets of my jacket and started down the trail, my feet knowing each step, taken countless times before. The turn to the right, along the bend in the river, then the gentle sweep back to the left, up the ridge and down the other side. Twisting back toward the river I noticed something strange, a fog rolling in off the banks. Fog isn't unusual near water, but on a crisp, cool night, it was disconcerting. Walking a little more quickly, I turned to look behind me, an imagined noise breaking the almost silence. My feet faltered a little causing me to trip. I caught myself but threads of ruby hair covered my eyes, hiding the path before me. While I stopped to rake the hair out of my face, I could hear the echo of my breathing, but there was something else. Faintly, I could hear breathing, slow, rhythmic, animal breathing. I could feel the familiar tingle of fear, known so well in my dreams. I backed up a few paces and heard the oh-so-gentle step, paws crushing leaves. I didn't want to run, I thought I knew better, but panic overwhelmed me and I turned my back, running along the path, trying to get home.
Was it the fog, the fear, or that one wrong twist in the trail? I ended up turning around, then again, my head spinning. I was lost, in the dark, with something shadowing my every step. My heart raced, and I knew he could smell my fear. When I turned around again, there he was, standing in the middle of the path, staring me down. His icy blue eyes glinting in the half light, his black fur bristled around his neck. I knew I could never race a wolf home, in fact, I knew this would probably be one of my last breaths. The instinct to survive was too strong, I backed up, left foot behind the right, shifting my weight, then right foot behind the left. For every step I took, he took 3, slowly, advancing on me with a predatory growl.
