I was pouring some grain into the horses' trough to reward their work when I sensed eyes on me.  Looking up, I could just make out a figure walking along the dirt road behind our house.  The road we’d been riding down twenty minutes before.  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and had to remind myself that anyone had a right to be going for an evening walk.  It was probably just a neighbor.  Still, I didn’t recognize the way the figure moved and most of our neighbors out here were older.  This person seemed to have a youthful walk.  Both horses had stopped, their eyes following my gaze. Slowly, quietly, I moved around behind them, using them as a shield between me and whoever the person was, whispering to them in a low comforting voice. 

I felt silly when the person didn’t stop at all, but just kept walking down the road right past our house.  I was growing downright paranoid.  Sighing, I put away the grain scoop and went inside, greeted by the smell of frying meat. 

“Annalie, you two seemed to have a good ride,” my dad greeted me, looking up from where he sat with his laptop at the dining room table.

“Did mom tell you how she decided we were in the Kentucky Derby on the way back?” I quipped.

My dad chuckled.  “No, but I’m getting pretty hungry, so I’m glad you two weren’t out too much longer.”

“Yeah.”  My teenage brother pipped up from whatever video game he was playing in the living room.  “We’re starving here.”

“Then why don’t you come help make the salad, Matt?” my mom asked.

He grumbled a little, but I heard the game pause and he appeared.

Dinner commenced presently, our usual family tradition on Sunday nights, and I realized I was starving too.  After dinner, we all sat down to watch a movie together—another family tradition—before breaking off to get ready for bed and the next day. 

I’d brushed my teeth and was settling down to read for a bit when I realized I’d left my phone in the kitchen.  Just as I was grabbing it, I heard my parents’ voices from their bedroom.  They’d left the door open and, while it wasn’t like they were fighting, I could tell they were discussing something important or serious.  Slowly, I tiptoed closer to the open door.

“Michelle, I think you’re worried over nothing,” my dad was saying.  “I don’t think these dreams she told you about have anything to do with that.”

“I hope so, Rob, but I can’t be sure.  I know it was probably crazy, but I had the same feeling tonight like I had years ago.  Like when he was here.  It might be a coincidence…but it might not be.”

I heard my dad sigh.  “I think you should sleep on it, Michelle.  If you still feel like it’s connected and important in a few days, then do what you feel is right, but it was probably just passing chance.  A few days isn’t going to change anything.”

They seemed to be done talking and I snuck away quickly before either of them came out, heading for my own room.  What had that all been about?  My mom was worried about my dreams too.  Did she think I was crazy?  But what coincidence or feeling had she been talking about?

I propped some pillows up and snuggled down into my bed, trying to focus on the book I was reading about a team of women and their adventure summiting Mt. Everest.  But I found the words blurring on the page.  If my mom was worried about something, then maybe I wasn’t crazy after all.  What did the dreams mean? What had that note on my car windshield meant?  What answers would I get from this Leo guy when I talked to him the next day?  I eventually drifted off, wondering vaguely if we’d somehow escaped the promised storm by running the horses so fast.

I was running again, this time on foot.  The storm that raged behind me was blacker than night and I could hear howls from within it, the baying of giant dogs made of cloud and darkness.  I ran and ran, jumping over fences, stumbling through icy spring streams, up hills, down hills, scraping myself on tree branches and brambles.  Then I reached the edge of a cliff with no way down.  With no other option, I turned to face the storm.

It waited, like a giant black monster, at the edge of the trees.  One being detached itself from the storm, stepping forth, a terrible beast of cloud.  Just as I thought it would spring to attack me, it rose on two legs, its body morphing into that of Leo, though still made of cloud and storm.  

“Run, little rabbit,” Leo said, his accent thick, his teeth bared in a feral grin. 

I sat up in bed with a gasp, my heart racing.  No hounds, only the darkness of my own bedroom.  My eyes focused on the glowing red numbers of my alarm clock.  Five-past-three.

Thunk!  Thunk, thunk, thunk!

My eyes jerked to my bedroom window and I stifled a scream.  For a moment, I stared in wide-eyed horror, expecting the Leo-hound to come breaking through the glass, but nothing happened.  Until another Thunk, thunk!

Gritting my teeth, I threw back the covers and crouched, moving slowly towards the window, keeping to the shadows as the moonlight shone into the room.  It seemed the storm had cleared up.  I had a sturdy walking stick in the corner that I grabbed, ready to bring it smashing down on whatever was outside the window.  I was sure it was Leo and the Puerto Rican gang I had imagined earlier that day.  I should go get my dad and his gun, I knew.  That would be the smart thing.  That would be what any sane person would do.  But what if it turned out to be nothing and I woke the whole house up with crazy accusations of an intruder after I’d just had a bad dream?  Of course, being stupid, like I was being now, was how people died in horror movies.  They always had to keep going down the dark hall toward the creepy noise or whatever.

I had almost reached the window when a face and two hands appeared at the glass and I fell back onto my butt, dropping the walking stick, and letting out a small yelp as the two hands—very normal human hands—forced the window up and open.  Then a very normal human voice.

“Shhh!  If you scream, I’m just going to leave you here and let them kill you.”  A man’s voice.

I’d lost my own voice and probably couldn’t have screamed even if I’d wanted to. 

“Put this on, and come with me if you want to save your life and probably the lives of your family too.”  

A bundle of dark cloth was shoved into my room as I tried to get a better look at my uninvited guest.  Was he wearing a cloak?  I began to wonder if I was maybe still dreaming.  The man himself was of medium height and build—maybe a little shorter at a second glance.  The hood of his cloak shadowed his face, but I could see a slightly hooked nose protruding from the darkness. 

The man shifted his weight nervously, glancing behind him.  “Listen, my lady, your life hangs by a thread and if you don’t come with me right now, you’ll be dead within an hour.  Put the coat on, get some sturdy shoes, and let’s go.” He gestured to the bundle he’d tossed in.  I stayed where I was, ready to reach for the stick at my side or make a run for it if he tried to come in through the window.  “Damned Seti dogs,” he muttered under his breath, “this was not how I wanted to have to do this!”

“Wait.  What did you say?”  My question seemed to take him by surprise.

“I said get dressed!”

“No.  After that.  What did you say, exactly?  Your exact words?”

He seemed taken aback.  “Damned Seti dogs, this wasn’t how I--.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine and I interrupted.  “What about the dogs?”

He made an exasperated sound.  “They’re coming for you as we speak!  Now, do you want to live, or should I leave you to them?”

I didn’t know this man, but my dream and the words of the note, chaser or chasee reverberated through my mind. I suddenly did want to run like a rabbit.  On impulse I reached for the bundle of cloth.  “What is this?”  The dim moonlight revealed a long coat—like something that might have been worn by a gentleman during the Civil War era.  It seemed thick and warm, made of wool, with buttons down the front.  I slipped into it, surprised by how well it fit.  There seemed to be a hood too, which threw off my Civil War image.

“Do you have boots?”  The man demanded.  

His manner really did remind me of a nervous rabbit and I voiced a suspicion, “Are you sure you just aren’t afraid for the police to come and catch you trying to kidnap me?”  A far more likely scenario than dream hounds.  Why was I even engaging with this man instead of screaming?

He gave a gruff sound that might have been a laugh.  “Police?  I wish that your worthless police were the biggest threat.  What we face is something they can’t save you from.  Now, I’m asking you one last time, get some shoes, come with me, and save your life.  I’m not quite ready to wait around and sacrifice my own life for you.”

Something in his voice made me head for my closet for socks and hiking boots.  It felt silly to be putting these things on over my fuzzy blue pajamas, but I wasn’t about to change clothes in front of this stranger. 

“Are you ready, my lady?”

What was up with the ‘my lady’ nonsense?  “Alright, alright, I’m ready now.”  I moved to the window, then hesitated.  What the hell was I doing?  Was I really going to slip off into the wilderness at night with this stranger?  Just then, in the distance, I heard a howl.  It could be the neighbor’s dog from a mile away…possibly.  But I’d never heard the neighbor’s dog do more than bark and something in the sound sent my hackles up.  Swallowing, I gripped the windowsill and swung out next to the man.  “I think I’m going crazy,” I muttered.

“Crazy is better than dead.  Just try to keep up.”  So saying, he started off, and I felt my feet moving, across the lawn and road and into the forest beyond.