The Path

Twelve-year old Anna climbed the steep hillside with her uncle. He wanted her to come with him to the chapel he had found. "Is there a real path around here? I'm going to fall and ruin my new red dress. Have you seen it, uncle? Does it look really amazing?"

"Oh yes, it is something to see. " He led her through the tall grass and towards the dense forest.

She was tired and noticed she had gotten some mud on the hem of her dress. "I want to see it then, but I want to be back before it gets too late. I don't want to miss out on all the fun later on. I forgot to tell Grandma where we are going."

"Then we should hurry. This won't take long." He pointed out a gray tower rising up from the dark trees. "There it is."

An unseen animal moved in the shadows. Her eyes jumped over to the rustle of the dark leaves then returned to his saturnine face.

"There are werewolves over there," he pointed into the forest, "only, they don't look like wolves anymore. "

"What would they look like now?" She noticed that without the sun it was becoming chilly.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of brown leather gloves from his coat pocket. "Whatever monster you are afraid of - but first they'd find someway to slip in close."

"Are you trying to scare me, Uncle?" She stepped back.

"Maybe I am. Don't little girls like to be scared?"  He smiled at her.  He put on his leather gloves; pulling on them to make sure they fit just right, then held out his hand to her.

Meekly she followed him into the gloom.