Story 1145: Antlers in the Dark

The sky above Moonwood had no stars that night—just a single, milk-colored moon, smeared behind clouds like an eye veiled in gauze. Mara Vexley, lantern-bearer for the Hollow Watch, trudged through the mire with her coat pulled tight, her breath fogging in the early frost.

She wasn’t supposed to be alone.

The search party had splintered hours ago after they found the first totem: a human jawbone lashed to a tree with braided hair. Beneath it, the word "kneel" carved in bark.

One by one, they vanished.

Now Mara was the only one left, following footprints that weren't human.

Each print had four toes, elongated and sharp, the depth unnerving. Whatever made them was heavy. And intelligent—it looped in circles, doubled back, and disappeared for stretches as if lifted clear off the ground.

Still, her lantern burned steady. And she clutched the small charm at her neck—stag bone carved by her grandfather, passed down from the old moonwatchers, said to offer protection.