Clovers End - 3. A Chance Encounter

Alex Pov

My stomach grumbles. When was the last time I had eaten? My supplies are running low and I'm famished so, I grab a denim jacket resting on an adjacent chair, throw it on and get ready to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a metallic, gleam. The necklace I inherited, neatly placed on the dresser. It shimmers ominously. The engraved detailing depicts a wolf with blue-ish stones for eyes. They catch the light in a way that it almost seems to glow. Hesitantly, I decidedly put it on, before heading out the door for a quick bite.

I walk down a beaten path that connects the outskirts of the town to the more lively town square. It runs through a thicket of trees that elegantly joins the greater woods. I can hear the slight hum of natures workings. The soft songs of birds, to the whispering of the trees, every time a cool breeze greets the leaves. The scent of perfumed wildflowers affectionately dispersed to give the greenish-brown a much-needed pop of colour. I have to admit, this place is more beautiful then I had anticipated. It carries an interesting mystic.

Stopping just before the edge of the path, my senses are suddenly overpowered, more so than in the woods. It's quite a difference to the prior. The shades are more erratic. Life here seems to be an endless rush. People hurriedly streaming from one building to another. Unease settles over me. I don't know if it's my imagination but I feel like I received a few unpleasant glances. I brush off the thought and submit to the beckoning call of fresh pancakes coming from a nearby cafe called 'The Angel’s Bakery'.

Thick and fluffy, delicate with a touch of melted butter, drizzled with maple syrup, accompanied with a generous side portion of berry compote. The texture is almost soufflé like. It just melts on the tongue. The amalgamation of the sweetness of the pancake coupled with the tartness of the berries creates a balanced symphony. It's been a while since I've had something so delectable. Now that was service. I belch in satisfaction trying to make it as unnoticeable as possible and thank the staff on the way out.

I consider taking a brisk walk to burn off the meal when suddenly I feel a chill run down my spine. My neck hairs stand on end and feel an overwhelming amount of dread. I begin to breathe deep, eyes darting around to find the source of my unease. I lock eyes with him, I don't know for sure but I think he was the man on the beach. Is he following me? My eyebrows knit tightly together at the thought. I turn on my heel and try to act as casual as possible, heading for the house. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot him lagging behind.

I pick up the pace, feeling a cool sensation spread through my abdomen and suddenly I'm able to think with more clarity. I diverge from the path. I might just have a chance of shaking him. The scenery changes. The trees start to jut out of the ground at oblong angles, stretching thick and tall, spreading their broad branches above connecting together like a network of spider webs, blocking out the streaming sunlight with their thicket of leaves.

My feet thud heavily against the leaf-strewn ground, tripping over branches and roots. I disturb a myriad of wildlife. I can see their disorganized scattering, crows reaching for the sky like harbingers, calling to their master. I hear the crunching of leaves behind me and dart right. I shut my eyes out of fear and run straight into a tree.

Surveying the area, slowly I realize, I've found myself in a clearing, trees bend to form a rooftop above my head. I can barely make out anything three feet in front of me. I'm not sure which way I came from. I try to get my bearings but freeze as I hear the melodious howl of wolf erupt from the foliage around me with no distinct origin. It's so loud I have to cover my ears. The familiarity dawns on me. I've been subjected to this moment countless nights before. The outcome is unavoidable. I crawl into a ball, trying to make myself as invisible as possible and wait for the coming onslaught but all I'm met with is an eerie silence.