The Howl in the Woods

The wind howled through the trees, rattling the brittle branches like the bones of the long-forgotten. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and moss, a reminder of the ancient forest that loomed just beyond the village borders. Elara Hastings quickened her steps along the narrow cobblestone path, her cloak trailing behind her, the fading light of day pressing in on her like the weight of a thousand eyes.

Blackwood was quiet at dusk. The kind of quiet that made Elara feel like she was walking through a dream, where even the animals held their breath and the trees whispered secrets they weren't meant to share. The village, built on the edge of the great forest, had always been a place of solitude and mystery. The townsfolk were kind, but distant. Superstitious. Old tales of werewolves, curses, and strange happenings kept their distance, as did the children when they played too close to the woods.

"Just a few more steps," Elara muttered to herself, trying to ignore the gnawing sense of unease that crept up her spine. She had stayed by the river too long, letting her thoughts wander. The setting sun had caught her off guard, casting long shadows across the path. The trees ahead seemed darker than usual, and even though she couldn't see them, she could feel the weight of their presence pressing in from all sides.

But it wasn't just the trees.

A sound broke through the silence, far in the distance. The unmistakable sound of a wolf's howl. It echoed off the distant hills, carrying with it a strange weight that made Elara's breath hitch in her throat. The villagers had told stories of wolves in the woods—wild creatures that hunted in packs—but this howl was different. It didn't sound like a wolf. It was too… deep, too guttural, as though it came from something ancient and far more dangerous.

Elara stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew better than to be afraid of the forest. Her father had always told her that the wilds of Blackwood were not to be feared, but respected. Wolves roamed these woods, but they rarely ventured close to the village, and they were always cautious of the humans.

But this howl was different.

Another one followed, closer this time. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the sound seemed to vibrate through the air, a raw and primal cry that sent a shiver down her spine. She instinctively glanced over her shoulder, but the path behind her was empty, swallowed up by the thickening twilight.

"Elara!" A voice called from behind her, pulling her from her thoughts. It was Corwin, her best friend, running toward her with a look of panic on his face. "What are you doing? Didn't you hear that?"

"I heard it," she said, her voice tense. "What was that? It didn't sound like a regular wolf."

Corwin's face paled as he caught up to her, his breath coming in short bursts. "It wasn't. That was… something else. Something bad."

Elara frowned, looking at him skeptically. Corwin had always been the cautious one, the one who believed every old wives' tale and every superstition that circled the village. But the fear in his eyes was enough to unsettle her.

"Come on," he urged, grabbing her by the arm. "We need to get inside. It's not safe out here."

She hesitated for a moment, torn between the urge to stay and investigate the source of the strange howl and the rising anxiety that gnawed at her gut. But the urgency in Corwin's eyes was enough to sway her. Without a word, she allowed him to pull her toward the village square, the path now growing darker as the shadows of the trees closed in around them.

As they rounded a corner, the dim light of the village lanterns flickered in the distance. The village square was quiet, its cobblestones damp from the evening dew. Elara could see the outline of the old church at the far end of the square, its stone walls standing tall like silent sentinels.

In the center of the square stood Elder Oren, the village's ancient leader, his frail form hunched over as he gazed toward the forest. His long, silver beard swayed gently in the breeze, and his eyes, though clouded with age, held a sharpness that never failed to unsettle Elara.

"Elder Oren," Corwin said, his voice shaking slightly as they approached. "What was that howl? What does it mean?"

The elder turned slowly to face them, his gaze piercing through the gathering dusk. "You heard it too, then." His voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was a weight to it that sent a chill down Elara's spine. "The curse of Blackwood stirs once again."

Elara's brow furrowed. She had heard the stories, of course. Every child in Blackwood grew up with tales of the forest's dark past—the ancient curse that was said to lie dormant in the heart of the woods, waiting for the right moment to awaken. But it was always just a story. A tale to frighten children into staying close to home. Wasn't it?

"It's nothing," she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. "Just a wolf. A strange one, maybe, but a wolf nonetheless."

Elder Oren shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. "It's never just a wolf, child. Not in these woods."

A sudden, harsh gust of wind whipped through the square, causing the lanterns to flicker and cast strange shadows along the stone walls. The elder's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Tonight marks the first howl of the season. And with it, the rise of the blood moon."

Corwin's face turned ashen. "The blood moon? You don't mean—"

"I mean what I say," Elder Oren interrupted, his gaze hardening. "The curse will return, and with it, the wolves who walk on two legs."

Elara's stomach twisted, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her gut. Werewolves. The very thing that her parents had warned her about, that she had laughed off as childish superstition.

She didn't laugh anymore.

The elder turned away, his words a final warning. "Bar your doors and windows. Stay inside tonight. And if you hear the second howl…"

His voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear. No one in Blackwood was safe when the moon turned red.