Red

  I love the hunt.  

  I love the touch of the cool air, slightly damp on my face as I walk. I love the way the night birds cry, and the geese honk their brazen, mournful honks, and scatter as I pass them on my nightly circuit round the lake in the middle of the park. I love watching the clouds overhead, blackness thicker and blacker than the night, itself, as they float like ships with fluffy sails across a silver sea.

The moon is full tonight.

She does not see me. That is good. I will watch her. She is young. She is wearing a red hoodie with tight black leggings and red sneakers. She runs quickly, but I am quicker, and can be quiet when I want to be. I follow at a hunter’s pace and with a hunter’s gentle step, softly, softly. I must be careful now....so careful.... 

The papers have dubbed me the Wolf of Wayland Park, and I love that, too. I am a wolf, sleek and swift and frightening. Before I started hunting, this park was full of people, even at night. Now no one comes here.

I am alone. 

The police are looking for me, but they will not find me. I am too smart for them, fat and slow-witted as they are. They think they are looking for a man. But I am no longer man. 

I cannot see her face. Oh, I wish I could see her face! But the clouds are now covering the moon, plunging my pale blue fairyland into black. 

  There are no fairies here. There is only me. I almost howl in my excitement.  

  But I do not. That would give the game away.  

  She is rounding the corner. Now is my chance. I jump out. 

“Oh!" I pretend surprise. "Hello!"  

She stops, too, and stands completely still. A nervous chuckle from me to show I am no threat. 

"Sorry, I usually walk here at night. Didn't mean to scare you." 

  I did though. Just a little. 

  She still has not moved or made a sound. I notice now what big eyes she has. So big and so blue. Even in the darkness of her pretty red hood I can see them. I am relieved then when she offers her own nervous laugh and smiles.

"No worries," she says, "I guess I'm not the only one who likes to use this park at night."

I jerk my thumb ahead of us down the path. “I was jogging this way, but if you wanna be left alone I can turn back." 

 "No," she says. I knew she would. "I think I'd feel better jogging with someone else. Just..." she stops. 

  “Just what?"  

  "Just...could you jog ahead of me? So I can see you?"  

  I smile. "Sure!" I say. Just don’t judge my form or anything." She smiles back. What white teeth she has! I turn and begin running. 

Oh, what a thrill! Oh, what a novel delight! Imagine! ME being chased! It is almost too good! I turn back to see that she is following, but I already know. Like a sheep or a billy goat she is trip trapping behind me, soft, muscular legs pumping and her red hood bobbing. So graceful...it is almost hard to look away.

 And she is catching up. Or am I imagining it? No, for now as I turn back to see the path ahead I can hear her, and see her shadow. Unconsciously I speed up. I don't know why I do this. My legs work as if of their own accord. I run faster, lengthening my strides. I was a runner in high school. That was long ago, and I have since not kept it up. Gone are the days when I had to run long distances. I regret not keeping it up now. I am getting tired. Behind me I can hear her. The tread on her sneakers barely makes a sound but I know that she is nearer nonetheless. I am gasping for breath, but behind me she is sleek and quick and makes almost no sound. 

  I am afraid.  

  I break from the path and run into the woods. I am done with the game. I want to get away, get away NOW! I crash blindly through the thicket of trees and bush; branches seem to rear back and slap my face as I pass. Long, leafy arms reach out and catch my jacket, my shirt, my hair my face, scratch my skin to ribbons. What am I doing? I stop. 

  I am alone.  

  Then the soft whisper of someone or something gliding through the trees. How is she so QUIET? I begin to run again. I hear her behind me. 

  "Wait!"  

  I do not. There is no alarm in that voice. I know what alarm sounds like. I am terribly afraid now. Terribly afraid and I run, hands out in front of me to swat away the biggest of the branches, but still some catch me in the face. I feel one leave a gash on my chin, just under my lip, but I do not care because she is nearer, nearer. I can hear her breath, panting but measured. Her soft padded feet barely make a sound. 

  She howls.  

  And then I am falling. The ground disappears from beneath my feet and for a single, perfect moment I am suspended in darkness. Then the ground comes up to meet me. First my knees and then my stomach and my chest as I slam into the bank of the ravine, and now I am tumbling, tumbling, head over heels all the way down. I reach out, grasping wildly for anything, any kind of purchase, anything to hold onto. A sapling slaps my palm and slides out again before I can close my fingers on it. A stone connects with my left knee and I cry out. Now more stones are falling. I've started an avalanche of stones. I tumble down with them. Then all at once a tree slams into my back, breaking my fall and nearly breaking my spine. The wind is knocked out of me. I lay there twitching and writhing as the last of the debris catches up to me. 

  And then she is there. She is whole and completely undamaged, and does not even look as though she is out of breath. She looks down at me from her vantage point on the slope of the ravine. Only her eyes - and what big eyes she has - are bright with her exertion.

  "Why did you run?" she says. There is no concern in her voice. She studies me then, and she does not ask if I am all right.

  "I..." I try to speak, but something shifts inside me and I begin to cough. Blood, warm and wet, fills my mouth. Her expression does not change. 

  "I told you to wait," she says. "You heard me. I know you did." I try to answer but it's no good. "But you ran anyway." She moves closer, and I can see now that she is smiling. What big, big teeth she has. "I was hoping," she says now, but I am losing consciousness. I am going to pass out soon and I think she knows it, too, "that we could chase each other a little more. But it looks as though our chase ends here. She shrugs, but the smile does not go away. I'm sad. I was enjoying it." 

  High above us, the clouds part and the light of the moon bathes the valley in pale fairy light.  I had been right. There are no fairies here.  

  But there were wolves.