Opposed to ending her walk, she slowed her steps as she approached Red Cedar Loop. With only the trees as observers, moments like this lightened her shoulders and eased her breaths. Moments like this, she remembered who she really was.

And then she wasn’t alone: from no observers to the most valuable observer of all. She continued her stride, putting her curiosity on hold until protected by the bend on Red Cedar Loop. Her breath clouded before her, more rapidly than before. She felt his eyes follow her as though she was a moving target, felt him move within the trees as she moved. She felt his curiosity, perhaps as deep as her own.

She stopped when around the bend and twisted, making sure she was hidden from human view. And with her back toward the forest, her spine tingled in the way it had before, when he’d been behind her. Last time she had heard his breath; this time she felt it, too. Her own produced robust puffs in the air, followed by smaller, rapid spurts, and not a single nighttime noise surrounded her. Even the croaks of night life had stopped, as though all living organisms waited with baited breath. Her heart thumped as she felt him tower behind her. She closed her eyes, reminding herself she shouldn’t be afraid of the heat of his mass behind her, or the heat of his breath against her hair.

She opened her eyes, turning slowly. Another heavy breath escaped her as she craned her neck, and forced herself not to withdraw. He was bigger than she’d remembered, bigger without the weight of rainfall. Without a proper light she had difficulty making out his dark colors, but she knew them well from that first night: the stripe of black, spiky fur starting at the top of his muzzle, traveling between his ears and all the way down his spine; the dark brown fur covering the rest of his body, shorter and much smoother-looking in texture, and the muscular torso beneath it that seemed to be half man, half beast. Then there were his eyes. As though he knew of her desire to look into them, he lowered himself onto all fours, his shoulders hunched and his haunches ready for attack. But instead of attacking, his snout closed in on her face, his eyes penetrating hers.

And just like the first time, it calmed every fear. It made her forget about the sharp, unnatural claws that formed his paws, or the countless fangs crowding his large mouth. His eyes, large and wolf-like, an exquisite, gold-rimmed brown: they were so full of emotion they had to be human. She exhaled, lowering her tense shoulders while her fear evaporated. But the fear seemed to catch hold of him instead.

He retreated, his body cagey. With a sniff, he brought up a paw—curious and timid at the same time. He began disappearing in the trees.

“Wait,” she said, stepping closer.

The mysterious animal—who seemed to be no animal at all—growled, lips curling back with a ripple as he bared his many threatening teeth. The fur on his spine now stood erect. And in that instant she knew he didn’t want her here. Even the beast, with no souls to call his friends, wanted her gone.

She held up her hands in a gesture of peace. Just the gesture, probably foreign to him, made him cower. That strange hiss accompanied his growl, and she hoped he wouldn’t roar. “I…I won’t hurt you.”

This seemed to puzzle him and with the twitch of one of his long, sharp ears, he tilted his head. He stepped back, his long, bushy tail doing one swift whip behind him.

“I don’t know if you understand me, but…I’m no threat.”

His eyes, so full of a knowledge she couldn’t grasp, blinked. He almost appeared skeptical. And his attack was the last thing she expected. Before her heart could even skip a fearful beat, he had her pinned against the trunk of a cedar—one on the opposite side of the street. The painful force knocked the air from her lungs, and the absence of earth beneath her feet left her disoriented. Air was hard to come by, for more than one reason, and in an attempt to regain her bearings, she searched for solid ground. But he stood on his wolf-like haunches, her feet hanging at least five feet in the air, maybe more. His front paws held her in place and the tips of his claws dug through the thickness of her jacket.

His muzzle closed in on her again, allowing her to smell the forest on his fur, and clouds of his ominous breath mixed with her quickened, shallow ones. Her head would fit so easily between his jaws, and those teeth—decorated with some creature’s blood—could gouge through her like knives through a rotten tomato. But she reminded herself of her never-failing instinct. Reminded herself of it over and over again.

That was when it showed in his eyes, that thing she couldn’t pin. All she knew for sure was he was trying awfully hard to convince her just how dangerous he was.

With a wince, she rested her head against the tree, since her body was pinned tightly to it. His claws held her in place not just by her arms, which were restrained at her sides, but the entire width of her torso. They were so massive she was sure if her back wasn’t against the tree, they could fit all the way around her and touch on both sides. She relaxed her muscles the best she could, and since she didn’t know whether he would understand her next words, she stared him in the eyes, hoping to convey her intentions. “I’m not afraid of you,” she managed, her voice slightly uneven. “And I won’t plead for my life.”

This angered him, his furry brow turning severe. The low rumble began deep in his throat, making his wolf-like lips quiver as he again bared his fangs. He wanted her to be afraid. And the way he seemed so disturbed by her presence here made random thoughts of Mr. Clayton float to her mind. The pressure of his claws increased against her, compressing her diaphragm. She would go down as the fool, the pessimist in her thought. The naïve fool from California who thought she could tame the beast. The one who’d been warned by every resident to stay away.

But she wouldn’t go down, and he would let her live like he did a few nights before. Just like he let everyone else live. The knowledge wound itself around her brain with a physical force. “It’s all right,” she said with a constricted breath. His pressure slackened ever so slightly. “It’s all right.” His eyes penetrated hers for an unmeasured period of time, telling her he understood. Through their silent exchange, he grasped her message: that while she didn’t need to fear, neither did he.

He appeared troubled, as much as a beast could, with a memorable weight in his rich brown eyes. His groan said he’d given up, and with a gentleness she hadn’t expected, he eased off of her, lowering her until her feet hit the ground. Without his claws compressing her, she could finally breathe, and the deep inhalation she took was painful. So were the ones after.

He sat on his haunches, studying her warily, his tail fanned out on the street behind him. So much for not exiting the forest. So much for the assumed treaty.

A shaky flashlight beam shone around the corner, bouncing with its owner’s steps. Both she and the beast turned in that direction, the beast rising on all fours. He met her eyes again, as though conflicted, and she whispered, “Go. Now.”

He did, darting into the trees so fast her mind questioned whether or not she’d seen him leave. It was just in time too, since Eustace appeared around the bend, shotgun at his side.

“For Pete’s sake, Beth, what are you doing out here?”

“I’m not allowed to walk to my motel, Old Man?”

“The way I hear, you won’t be needing this motel after tomorrow.”

“If I’m lucky. I don’t want to jinx it.” She tried not to cringe, since breathing brought pain.

He placed a hand on his hip. “You couldn’t have Regina take you, could you? You just had to walk.”

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing really, just that Sheppy claims he saw the monster out and about around here an hour ago. Said it was behind the motel.”