The sun isn’t in the sky just yet but the bright hues of yellow, orange, and pink spread across the clouds. The air makes my skin rise with goosebumps though it’s not that chilly. The porch is dwarfed by fog spread as far as I can see with only feet of the green grass in front of me exposed and by the looming trees a few hundred feet out sticking their heads above the fog. And honestly, even the slender driveway dwarfs the porch, though the fog engulfs in it, I can picture it as it winds around curves and disappears somewhere by the first bridge over a ravine. But the song, it fits perfectly on the porch. Like a sitting buddy on the porch swing. Or a best friend you hold hands with when you’re eight.

The song, the noise, the music, the whatever you want to call it is to my right. That’s where I’ll try first. The dew-wet grass soaks my jeans and when I step into the wood line, the air changes from cool to crisp. The sunlight hasn’t made its way through the canopy just yet but there’s enough light to see where I’m going.

It’s calling. Sweetly. Brightly.

It’s addictive.

Leaves crunch under my feet, rocks jut from the ground forcing my path to zigzag. Birds are quiet. In fact, I can’t hear any chirps at all. And when I pause, no rustling in the tree branches from squirrels or scurrying of chipmunks through the leave litter. Totally silent. I would normally turn around and sprint away from such an eerily quiet place but the song is my friend, pulling me towards her.

Over there, straight ahead. Oh, a ravine. I wrap my arm around a tree trunk and judge the steepness. It’s not a deep ravine or a wide one. Just a cut in the hill, really, as a creek runs through. And if I use the trees as a brace, I don’t slip on my way down. It only takes a few seconds to make it to the bottom. I leap over the creek, barely trickling and up the other side, pulling myself with the lovely help of the trees. At the top of the ravine, it slopes downward into a gentle hill.

The sun is still not lighting my way as much as I want it to but this works. The melody comes from my left. Not straight and not to my right which is perfect since the canopy is thinner to my left. That’s where I head. A few more minutes pass and I trek up a hill. Should be the source of the noise. The canopy thickens and my light disappears. Dark. Shadowy. Dusk.

The song is louder. The crest is in sight. And at the top.

Stop.

Stare.

Soundless.

I’m all of those things, I do all of those things. There’s a cloaked figure in the center of the hill, hunched over. The song continues on. Far, far from this spot. The figure stands. It’s huge. It turns and a rush of images flash in my mind. I can’t make anything out. No details, just colors. And so many of them. Pink, black, brown, purple, yellow and they’re so bright. Tons and tons pulse at the speed of light and the moment, it lasts just a millisecond. A blink of an eye. But in that time the figure stands so close to me. A snout, brown fur. Eyes, dark. I stumble back and slide down the hill.

And I run. I run to the ravine. At the top, I take the briefest moment and look back. It’s still on the hill top.

Stopping.

Staring.

Soundless.

It’s all of those things, doing all of those things.

Down the ravine, cross the creek, up and up and through the woods, to the cool wet grass. Levon’s car is parked in the driveway. Sprint to the porch, open the front door.

“Levon?” I say, out of breath.

“What?”

He’s in the kitchen at the table drinking fresh coffee and bacon.

He drops his cup and coffee splashes all over him. “I thought you were-damnit, hot.”

I hand him paper towels, though my hands shake and my breath is wildly out of control.

He says, “You weren’t supposed to go outside at night.”

“I didn’t. I went first thing this morning.”

He punches my shoulder. “Damnit, Lyla. I friggin’ knew you’d do something stupid. I knew it. I knew it. I told Tessa but she said you’d be okay tonight. I friggin’ knew it.”

I take his last piece of bacon. “Tessa? Friggin’? Tell me what’s happening. Please because I think I found a murderer in the woods or something.”

He squints and blinks three times. “A murderer?”

“I’m serious. There was a bear thing in the woods. I heard this noise and went to check it out this morning. Oh, and this house is so creepy. Did you come home last night? Anyways,” I say between bites. “Heard this noise. Went to check it out. A man bear thing was there. Scared the shit out of me. Like, basically, literally scared me that bad.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “I love mom so much but I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Where’s your charm?” he says.

“I don’t know. Guess I lost it.”

“Lyla,” he says, “you didn’t lose him.”