The sounds from outside stopped, and he dared to open his eyes- disappointed to see the same dank burrow that he had crawled into. Outside, the dark shape was standing frozen in place, great head turned toward something Eldred could not see somewhere behind the tree he sheltered underneath. Its ears were raised and pricked forward, its entire body tense with concentration. It huffed, the sound not quite a bark, and its jaws closed. It stared intently for a moment longer, before it huffed again and slinked away into the trees.

Eldred lay there, stunned, unable to feel anything but the dying dregs of fear and panic. He trembled, eyes fixed on the circle of light, waiting for the hound to bound back into view with renewed ferocity. He waited for a very long time, breathing short and shallow, until he heard a voice- not a bark or a growl, but a human voice- calling out to him.

“-El?” it came, sounding distant. He didn’t answer, not yet daring to hope he was safe. “El!” came the shout again, the voice resolving into that of May. Relief started to pull at his insides, but he kept it at bay, cautious and worried that the creature might return. He took a deeper breath and crept forward toward the burrow’s entrance.

He waited again at the opening, halted by the anticipation of the beast bounding back into view. He heard a muffled conversation a short ways off as his friends conversed- they sounded worried, but not afraid. He poked his head out, staring with horror at the deep claw marks around the burrow, rends carved into the dry earth and deep cuts gouging into the two thick roots that created the narrow opening into the hollow. Bright, almost white wood showed starkly against the dark brown of the tree’s bark.

“Eldred!”

He hesitated for just a few more seconds, unable to pull his gaze away from the scars, before he answered. “I’m here!” He hated how small his voice sounded, the words small and insignificant in the growing winds of the forest. He gathered himself, and made the final push out of the burrow, crawling out under the tree’s canopy and staggering to his feet as he heard the crackle of leaves and twigs as his friends tumbled through the uneven forest.

He stood staring at the trail of destruction the creature had left in its wake. The aftermath showed a snapshot of the fear and terror he had felt in that moment; his footprints, left by simple, smooth-soled shoes, were smudged and warped by the shifting leaves and dirt beneath his feet, in some places little more than a streak on the ground. Surrounding and engulfing his small tracks was a trail of destruction, branches and twigs alike snapped clean from their fellows, brambles torn from the ground, and huge, clawed paw prints clear as they overlaid his own steps.

A final burst of noise announced May and Cal as they appeared, both breathing hard and staring at him with relief.

“You’re okay?” Cal said, although it came out as more of a question than the statement he had meant it to be.

Eldred nodded, leaning to look further down the path he and the beast had made.

The pair came to stop beside him, peering out as well. “Cal didn’t think we should come looking for you after the dog stopped chasing us,” May said, casting a sideways glance at the boy, who was reddening, “He thought we should get adults.”

The smaller boy bristled. “We couldn’t’ve chased it off just me’n you, and besides, I didn’t want to get eaten.”

Her arms crossed and she tossed her head, “I don’t think Eldred wanted to get eaten either, did you El?”

“No,” Eldred said, distracted. “What made it stop?”

His friends frowned, exchanging glances. “What d’you mean?” Cal asked after a moment, squinting to try and see whatever it was Eldred was staring at.

Eldred looked back at them, and then pointed toward the burrow in which he had hidden. “It was digging for me, and it just stopped. I didn’t hear or see anything, but it was listening really hard, and then it just ran off…” he trailed off, looking in the direction the dog had been. He saw nothing but the tall trunks of trees, thicker here deeper in the forest.

May shifted uncomfortably as she and Cal stared at the claw marks. “Maybe we should go home,” she suggested, unfurling her arms to hug herself instead. “It’s getting late,” she added, trying to justify calling an end to the day. She didn’t need to put to words what they were all really thinking.

Cal started nodding, turning away from the scene and starting to pick his way back through the new path. May followed swiftly behind, and the pair stopped just a few steps later, turning to wait for Eldred.

He stared for a moment longer, brow furrowed, and then turned toward them, and started trudging through the undergrowth.

He breathed deeply as they left the forest, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from them. The sky was now clear, and the earlier edge that the wind had held had been honed to a sharper point. The sun was getting low, hanging just above the distant hills. Eldred shivered, an action both of his companions mirrored, as they stood at the edge of the forest, looking down upon their town. They were in a long, sloping field fenced in by rows of bushes. The town below was of modest size, with cobbled roads near its centre that fanned out into twisting, winding ones made mostly from dirt. They stood to its north, and to the east wound the road to town, a few miles and a few hours walk, a darker line that snaked off between fields and across hills. To the town’s southwest a second road passed, trailing off into the distant smudge that was the next village over. In between the two, partially obscured by trees, a glinting strip of water flowed, wide and slow.

They contemplated the view for a few minutes, almost reluctant now to leave the forest, despite the events of the day. Eldred, while still shaken, felt as though far more time had passed than actually had, the sharp points of fear and terror rounding and mellowing into distant things.

“Same time tomorrow?” May asked after a while, watching the tiny shapes of people moving around beneath them.

Cal nodded, “We can finish the fort, hopefully.”

Eldred stayed quiet, silently hoping that would be the last they’d see of the huge, black dog. “I should go,” he said out loud, “My mum’s probably worried.”

With that, he started trotting down the hill, gravity perhaps taking him a little faster than he’d hoped, arms outstretched to aid in his balance.

May and Cal stayed where they were, May waving, and watched him go. It wasn’t very long before they followed behind.

Eldred’s house was the closest to the forest’s edge. He and his mother lived alone in a small cottage on the outskirts of the town, only a few minutes walk from the gate to the field. He clambered over the gate, as he usually did, and turned up the lane, settling into one of the ruts as he trudged back home. The wind was picking up, tall grass to either side of the road swaying to and fro against the low walls bordering the fields and gardens. He pulled himself in tighter against it, pulling his shirt collar up and tucking his hands under his arms in an attempt to stave off the worst of the bite.

He didn’t look up as he reached the gate into the house’s garden, climbing over that one as well and dropping down onto the small paving stones that laid out the path to the back door. It was only when he reached said door that he looked up, a little surprised to find his mother looking back at him, bemused smile on her face. “You’re a little late,” she chided him, looking pointedly at the darkening sky. Talaith Fenn was a fairly small woman, her light brown hair pulled back into its usual bun. Her face kind, dark brown eyes soft and warm. Eldred hadn’t been in the house alone very much, but whenever he had been he’d found it feeling empty and un-lived in without his mother. Her very presence was a comfort, and Eldred took solace in it during the evenings they would often spend together.

He shrugged, looking down at his feet as she opened the lower half of the door to let him in. He shuffled inside, taking off his shoes as he entered the kitchen.

The door bolts clicked as his mother slid them into place, shutting both halves against the chill and allowing the warmth of the fire to engulf him. He gave a contented sigh, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Did I not tell you to take your coat with you?” she asked, turning back toward her dinner preparations. It smelled of earth and burning wood, the vegetables his mother had brought in from their small plot in the garden still muddy as they lay on the kitchen counter beside the sink, waiting to be washed.

“Wasn’t cold when I went out,” he said defensively, creeping closer to the fire to warm himself, “it only got cold when the sun was setting.” It was a small lie- he had started to regret ignoring his mother half-way down the lane on his way out to meet his friends, but hadn’t turned back out of stubbornness.

“Well.” She said, starting to chop and slice, dropping vegetables into a pot that hung over the crackling fire. Each one made a small splash as it hit the surface of the water inside, and Eldred took a step back to avoid being hit by the droplets of water that escaped. Already he was feeling better, the worries of the day sliding away. “You must have been having fun, to stay out so late even with the chill?”

That pulled him back to the day’s events- the clouds, the fort, the dog, the burrow. He couldn’t help but shudder, despite the warmth now suffused through his body. “We were,” he said, trying to decide whether he should tell his mother about the dog. He knew he should- this was exactly the sort of thing you told grownups, and the part of him that was terrified as he hid in the hollow beneath the tree pushed at him to tell her. But then he remembered how worried she had been when he told her about the time he and his friends had seen a white horse on the other side of the river, watching them. It had stood there, still as a statue, gleaming white coat more pristine than any he had seen in his life. It had been beautiful, man and tail flowing like ribbons in the gentle breeze. Its eyes had been large and black, deep pools glinting mischievously in a way that begged them to go to it, to stroke its silky flank. The three of them had, of course, tried, running back up the river bank to the bridge, only to find the creature gone by the time they reached the spot where it had stood. They had gone home disappointed but raving about the encounter transfixed by the horse and determined to go out the next day to seek it out again. His mother had gone pale at the account, putting down her needlework to kneel in front of him, looking solemnly into his eyes and telling him that he shouldn’t go near the river again without her, and if he ever saw that white horse again to run back home. He’d been scared by her intensity, and disappointed at the restriction. He’d gone to bed early that night, and had cried with frustration- if only she’d seen the horse herself, she wouldn’t have been so unfair.

He’d found his friends the next day, the two of them raring to explore the river again, to search high and low for the horse. He sulked as he told them he couldn’t go- that his mum had told him she’d check to be sure they weren’t, suggesting they played in the forest or the fields instead. Some small part of him, despite how much it hurt not to go, took the words to heart- he’d never seen his mother so scared for him. Cal and May had been disappointed, Cal more so than May, but the pair had relented, and they had gone to one of the old buildings instead. Months had passed since that day and Cal had long since forgiven him, but Eldred still stung every time he was reminded that the river was now out of reach.

He thought it likely that the forest would receive the same treatment if he told his mother of the dog, and he couldn’t bear to lose a place with such a wealth of things to do and play with. Besides, he wasn’t sure if Cal could forgive him if he got them banished from another place.

His mother glanced behind her, looking at him as he pondered, “Did something happen?” she asked lightheartedly, expecting perhaps an argument between Eldred and one of his friends, or a twisted ankle or some such minor injury.

The boy shook his head rather quickly, “No, nothing happened.” He glanced up at her, before looking back at the pot, worried that she would see the lie in his eyes if he held her gaze for too long. “We started building a fort,” he added quickly, anxious to move the conversation along.

Another handful of chopped vegetables plopped into the pot. “Is that how you got those scratches?” she asked.

His heart skipped a beat and he looked down, only now noticing the small scratches, cuts, and tears in his clothing and the skin on his hands. He wagered that his face likely had a few as well. “I fell into some brambles,” he hedged, still staring intently at the pot and its contents, which was bubbling happily. “To get a huge branch, though, it was at least as long as May!” This wasn’t quite a lie- he had tumbled briefly into a very small patch of brambles, and they had found a long branch. He still didn’t feel quite right speaking it, though.

“Was it now?” she asked, turning with the last of the chopping finished, picking up the wooden spoon and stirring the pot.

Eldred nodded, peering over as she stirred. She put it back down and turned back to him, crouching to look at his face and clothes.

“Nothing hurts? It looks like you’re not bleeding anymore, at least.”

He shook his head, or tried to as she cupped his chin, tracing what he assumed was a lengthy scratch from his temple to his forehead with one finger.

“Good. I don’t think I can say quite the same for your trousers, though,” she said with a teasing smile, “They’ve got a few tears in them that need some attention before you next fall into brambles now.” Their eyes met, and Eldred tried his best to look innocent. A tense moment passed. When his mother’s smile widened slightly and she did not regain the worried look in her eyes, he relaxed, and she leaned over to kiss his forehead before she stood up, returning to the cooking. “Go and get yourself cleaned up for dinner, your hands are filthy, Eldred.”