In the Light of the Moon

|THREE

Why am I this stupid? Why do I do this to myself?

I wanted to get some ideas of what to paint or draw, so I climbed out of bed, threw something over my pajamas, and tiptoed out into the forest. Although this idea is probably one of the most idiotic things I've ever done, you can't argue the place isn't breathtaking at night. The moon cast a soft glow on the trees and grass around me, and the stars twinkled above the cypress needles.

Using my phone, I snapped several photos—with the flash off, of course. I'm not cruel. I took pictures of the trees, the treetops with the stars, and the moon. When I found an incline, I took a picture of the trees below me with the lake in the background. And, to completely top off the image, an enormous willow tree towered over the other trees.

I will be painting that later.

When I hiked back down the hill, I decided to take a break before heading back. I found a sheltered spot under a tree. I lay down, leaning against the trunk. A twig snapped, and I jerked into a sitting position. I must've fallen asleep. There, a doe stood, staring at me. I slowly rose and approached the deer. She, thankfully, didn't bolt away.

The deer stepped closer too, and I held out my hand to pet the animal. The deer put her head under my hand, encouraging me. After a minute or so of petting her, she backed away. But, surprisingly, she walked behind me and nudged me forward. When I started moving, she bounded ahead, and I had to run to keep up. We ran together for a few minutes until she ran faster and disappeared into the trees ahead.

I stopped and stood in front of the giant willow tree from before. Up close, it loomed over my frame. Its roots were twice the width of my fist, and the trunk stood at least forty feet tall. Surrounding the tree were amaranths; with colors ranging from lilac to purple so dark, it almost reached black. But the thing lying at the foot of the tree caught my eye: a gaping hole. The area held a certain eeriness to it—not a perilous kind of eerie, but a dèjá vu sort of uncanniness.

I leaned in closer. Is it a fox hole? All of a sudden, the dirt beneath my feet crumbled, and I slid into the hole. Oh, God, I hope there isn't an angry animal down here. It was so dark in it that I could barely see a foot in front of me. I looked back the way I fell; it looks pretty steep. Can I climb out? Maybe there's another way out? I began to move forward. The air grew colder the farther in I walked, and goosebumps rose up and down my arms. It smelled like dead leaves and, as to be expected, dirt.

I walked forward until I found the dirt wall and felt my way around the hole, occasionally tripping over roots or cavities in the floor. Suddenly, the wall disappeared. I fell forward and landed on my hands and knees, scraping them a little. But the pain moved down the list of priorities when I realized I'd found a tunnel.

Doing the same thing that I did before, I used the wall to move forward. About a hundred feet into the tunnel, it opened up. A gap in the roof let the moon's rays in, and I could see again. My heart sunk as I realized this was where the tunnel ended. Oddly, directly under a patch of moonlight, a chest stood. It was a dark wood—possibly mahogany. Something was carved into the lid: a waning crescent, new moon, and waxing crescent laying back to back.

What is this place? A storm shelter, maybe?

I moved to the chest and lifted the lid. Inside was a black velvet pouch, a bow with a quiver full of arrows, a dagger tucked into a belt sheath, a black velvet cloak with a silver inner lining, and a pair of black velvet gloves.

The wooden bow gleamed in the pale light, and so did its silver grip. The quiver is black like the pouch, and the arrows matched the bow; they had wooden shafts, sharp, silver tips, and silver feathers as the fletching. I traced the designs carved into the bow—a wolf howling at a non-existent moon.