FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Detective Andersons cruiser idles in the parking lot of a small gas station surrounded by massive pine trees. Rays of pale moonlight strike the ground covering it in a gentle blue glow. His radio cackles to life.

[Hey Andy, I'm closing the station down for the night, you're on your own until tomorrow.]

Anderson grabs the mic from his dashboard and brings it up to his mouth.

"I think I'll make it to tomorrow Percy, no zombies or vampires in sight despite the time of year."

[You aren't using your cruisers mirrors to check for those vampires are you? Rookie mistake.]

Anderson lets out a chuckle before transmitting again.

"Rookie? Look who's talking!"

[Just looking out for you Andy. You can never be too careful these days.]

"Right, right, I'll be sure to stuff my glovebox with garlic next time I go to the store. Now you just be sure the coffee tomorrow morning is fresh because I'll be needing a gallon of it."

[Well maybe you should head home at a decent hour like the rest of us.]

"You know I like working late."

[Alright, just...well we're all still a little worried about you at the station Andy.]

Displeased at the new topic of conversation Anderson starts off with a reassuring tone that devolves into barely hidden aggravation.

"There's no need to be worried. I took time off. Me and Mary are dealing with it. And frankly it's none of yours or anyone else's goddamn business Percy."

[Sorry sir I didn't mean to-]

"No, no, it's not your fault. I think you're right...I could do with some more sleep."

[Be safe on the drive home Andy, I'm checking out.]

"See you tomorrow Percy."

Anderson puts the mic back onto his cruisers radio and takes a cigarette pack out of his pocket. Long ago Anderson had quit smoking at the insistence of his wife, but since last year he found he needed them to calm his nerves. He felt like his mind was always on edge, always tense, mere seconds away from being painted in dark memories. His wife of course smelled the tobacco on him every time he came home but kept silent, not daring to cause more tension between them.

Anderson lights his cigarette and opens his driver side window, the gas stations buzzing overhead lights illuminating his lap. He reaches for a thick manila folder on the passenger seat and opens it. He stares at the paper in front of him, its surface covered in neat type face and a single black and white photo.

It was a missing persons report. It detailed a young girl, college student, early 20s, blond hair, last known location was Arcadia National Park. He moves it to the bottom of the stack and stares at a new one. 30 year old male, brown hair, father of 2, went missing on a hike in Arcadia Park. He views a new one. 25 year old accountant, female, single, also went missing in Arcadia. Another one. 50 year old guide for the area, military veteran, significant hunting experience, yet he also went missing. Anderson continues looking through reports in the dim light, the smoke wafting out his window. He comes upon the last one. 17 year old female, red hair, brown eyes. His wife's hair. His eyes. Missing in Arcadia National Park since last year. His eyes move to look up at her picture but his hands close the folder before he has a chance. He knows he couldn't handle it, but his heart yearns to look at her again. Just one more time.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette and stares at his dashboard blankly. His ghostly reflection stares back at him through the glass. His wrinkled brow, the dark blotches under his eyes, the downturned lips. Symptoms of his mental aguish manifesting themselves in the real world. Maybe if he had just been a little more concerned, a little more inquisitive, a little more stern. But he had camped with her before in the area, it wasn't even that far from the road, and she was with a friend from school. But there wasn't any cell service in that area, it was an overnight camp, he didn't know her friend that well. But then again...

Desperate to get his mind focused on something else he gets out of his cruiser and walks to the edge of the parking lot. Standing in front of him is an expansive forest, its ground shrouded in a thin layer of fog reaching up to the treetops. His dark coat billows in the cold autumn wind. All things considered; it was a nice night out. The full moon lit up the forest in an even dull light. The tree branches gently swaying in the breeze. The sky peppered with many hundreds of twinkling stars. But what Anderson did not find beautiful was the fog. It felt like it was choking him everywhere he went. Covering his sight, obscuring dangers, hiding what should have been seen. What he needed to see. And it reminds him of the day he found out.

It had been the morning he was supposed to pick her up. He was driving through thick blankets of the stuff when he got the call to assist some local officers in the park, something about suspicious activity. He remembers pulling up into the parking lot and seeing two of his coworkers waiting for him. He walked with them towards the problem site, the ground gradually becoming more and more familiar as it revealed itself through the fog. As he walked worrying thoughts entered his mind, but he willed them away with a strong conviction that this couldn't be about her. She was too strong willed, too levelheaded, too precious for something to happen to her. And she was a good outdoorswoman, he trained her! There's no way it-

As objects emerged from the fog his mind went blank, briefly protecting him from what would soon be an onslaught of emotion. The familiar purple tent, the campfire arranged in just the way he taught her, the hiking boots purchased for her 16thbirthday resting on the ground. And the slashes, the long thick slashes all over her and her friend's tents. The spare clothes scattered on the dirt, the ripped up sleeping bags, the whole mess of the place burning itself into his brain. He remembers desperately yelling out for her, turning his head in every which way to try and see her. But all he saw was fog. Endless, impenetrable, blinding fog.

The cigarette wasn't having its intended effect. He takes it out of his mouth and throws it on the ground, then shreds it against the pavement before turning back to his car. He closes the door behind him and grabs the folder again. He starts combing through the reports, intently searching for some kind of common link, some unnoticed thread, some vague hint that could reveal what the hell happened to all these people, and in the process find the fate of his daughter. They never found a body despite the weeks of search parties combing the forest. No blood, no bullet casings, no traces of any wild animals aside from the marks on the tent. No closure. No finality. No answers. It's as if she just vanished into thin air.

"AWOOOOOooooo."

Anderson turns his head in the direction of the wolf call. Sounded close. Maybe a little too close for comfort. He scans the area around the gas station, watching the tree line for signs of movement. Nothing. He knew the chances of a wolf actually attacking him here were slim to none, but still he was on edge. He takes his revolver out of his holster and swings the cylinder out. Six little brass friends and in a shiny silver blanket. He swings it closed and reholsters it.

A sharp piercing scream fills the air.

Anderson jumps up out of his car and swings his head in the direction of the sound. He sees nothing but treetops and more of that cursed fog. He almost runs directly in the direction of the scream, but quickly backtracks to get a flashlight out of his cruiser. No point going in blind.

He sprints past the parking lot into the surrounding forest, revolver pointed up and flashlight aimed in front of him. He continues for some time, the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he runs towards what he assumes is someone being attacked by a wolf. Probably a camper who left food out and attracted a starving canine. His light does an adequate job of piercing the darkness but with the fog shrouding everything beyond 100 feet it makes it difficult to maintain his bearings.

He's been running for at least several minutes now and there's still no sign of life. He stops to try and get a grip on his situation. The fog has closed in, visibility is barely 50 feet. He knows if he gets lost out here the consequences may be dire, that gas station was the only bit of civilization for miles.

Another wolf howl.

It sounded closer this time, he must have been heading in the right direction after all. Anderson picks his feet up and runs towards the direction of the scream, hoping he can still save whoever was being attacked. Several more minutes of running and he spots something through the fog, a dull orange glow. A campfire! He slows to a jog and surveys the camp as it appears out of the mist. A hot fire surrounded by stones, plates littered on the ground, a small pot of soup lays spilled next to the fire. Whoever was here must have been attacked while having dinner. His eyes spot a dark blue tent by the fire. He shines his flashlight towards it and sees long thick slash marks all over it. Just like...

Something moves in his peripheral vision and he swings his light over to it. He sees something, or someone, hiding behind a bush, its branches obscuring the form behind it. Anderson raises his voice but keeps his pistol pointed up.

"Hey! Who's there? I'm Detective Anderson with the MAPD. Are you injured?"

The form swiftly turns and runs from Anderson, it's body a misshapen blur as it blends into the darkness.

"Hey! Wait!"

Anderson moves to pursue his only lead. He can barely keep up with them they're running so fast. Occasionally he'll shine his light at his quarry only to be met with brief glimpses of black fur. Whoever was at the camp must have been wearing a fur coat, not exactly in fashion these days but they are warm. Anderson sprints as best he can through the forest, though eventually he feels his age and smoking catch up with him. As the pursuit continues he begins passing bits of ripped clothing, apparently being thrown off by whoever was running away from him. Anderson has little time to ponder this strange occurrence, as it becomes harder and harder to catch sight of his mystery perp through the gradually thickening fog.

The impenetrable mist that blankets his surroundings rapidly becomes closer, in the span of only a few seconds it becomes so thick Anderson can barely see his hand in front of him. Having now lost sight of his target, he leans onto a nearby tree, wheezing as he tries to catch his breath. As he rests he feels the sweat on his face cool to an uncomfortable temperature and his damp clothes pull his body heat away from him. He raises his flashlight only to see the same dark gray mist in every direction clouding his vision. He holsters his pistol and wipes his brow with his hand. Where there was once excitement there was now only disappointment and a low simmering anger. Disappointment he lost the camper he tried to follow, anger at himself for failing to catch a possible lead. His mind becoming heated, he hits the tree with his hand and shouts.

"Damnit!"

"AWOOOOooooo"

Another wolf howl. Anderson takes his revolver out and begins jogging towards the sound, desperate to do something, anything, to figure out what happened back at the campsite. As he moves he notices the ground beneath his feet become muddy, then quickly he feels cold water enter his shoe. He was now crossing a stream, no deeper than a few inches but still deep enough to slow his pace. Water splashing at every footstep he continues until he's almost to the other side. As he steps down he feels something beneath the water hit his foot, turning his ankle in an odd direction as his momentum carries him forward. He falls forward onto the muddy bank of the stream, his sprained ankle searing with pain. He puts his hand down to push himself up and notices many small glowing specks of light move out of the way as his hand hits the mud. The entire ground seems to be covered in a light misting of them, uneven patches of light all over the floor of the forest. It's odd, but not odd enough for him to discontinue his search.

He gets back up on his feet, limping forward as the blue lights dance around his ankles. As his journey takes him further into the forest he begins noticing more oddities. The fog from before is totally gone, apparently vanishing sometime after he fell. The light from the moon above seems brighter, clearer, and contains a slightly purple hue. The ground beneath him is no longer full of scrap wood and bushes, it's now a sea of green grass flowing in the chilly wind, it's emerald color vibrant despite the dim light. The trees around him are so tall they almost block the stars, yet the ground still shines in moonlight. He sees more of the blue lights on the ground, some dancing in strange patterns a few feet in the air as he passes them.

He spots something out of the corner of his eye and aims his flashlight at it. Two reflective yellow eyes stare at him from beside a tree. As he raises his pistol his flashlight flickers and dies, the eyes fading eerily into darkness. He desperately shakes the flashlight trying to eke some more life out of it, but it refuses to function any further. Despite this loss the moon still provides more than enough light to walk around without running into anything. Seeing no other leads, he cautiously walks up to where the eyes had stared at him. He spies something on the ground as he nears the tree, a shiny silver watch with a torn band. He picks it up, angling it so the moonlight hits its display.

The numbers on its square face were fluctuating at random, it's electronics clearly malfunctioning. Curious, Anderson brings his own watch up to his face. The tritium dots on each if its hands were moving in odd directions, first clockwise, then counterclockwise, then briefly stopping before moving again. Now what were the chances that both watches would start behaving so strangely at the same time? Anderson pockets the silver watch, hoping some forensic analysis could be done on it later.

"AWOOOOOOOOOooooooooo."

Another wolf howl, much louder than any of the previous. Anderson hobbles towards it as fast as he can on a bum ankle. As he gets closer he begins to see a large clearing ahead of him. It was much more well-lit than the rest of the forest, as if the moon itself was beckoning him towards it. He reaches the edge of the clearing and stops, once again catching his breath. Slowly he limps forward, when he reaches the halfway point of the clearing he sees two reflective eyes in the opposite tree line. He points his revolver at them.

Just before he lets off a shot two more eyes appear. Then two more. He slowly swings his revolver around him as he sees eyes peering at him through the forest on all sides. Knowing he doesn't have enough bullets to take all of them on, he raises his pistol to the air and prepares to fire a warning shot hoping to scare the animals away.

*BANG*

The eyes all disappear, only to reappear a second later. A flinch. To his horror the eyes were slowly getting closer. Their bodies gradually revealing themselves in the moonlight. They weren't wolves, well not really anyway. They had heads similar to wolves yet walked on two digitigrade legs with lanky arms and tall furry bodies. Some were black as the night sky, some were an ashy gray, some were a snowy white, some were a mix of several colors. What Andersons eyes were drawn to the most were the two fangs poking under their upper lips and lengthy claws on each of their fingertips.

They all stop just short of entering the clearing. His ears still ringing and head full of terror, Anderson begins slowly swinging his revolver, constantly choosing targets but never firing.

"Don't get any closer! I will shoot!"

One of the beasts howls in Andersons direction and he points his revolver at it, anticipating some kind of attack. Yet the wolf thing just stays there, staring at him with piercing yellow eyes. Anderson has a scant few moments to register the rapid footsteps behind him until they're practically right on top of him. He swings his body around and his eyes go wide as he views one of the beasts now only a few feet in front of him. A distraction, the detective knew he shouldn't have fallen for that. He attempts to raise his revolver to point at its chest but the beast easily swats the gun out of his hand with a quick swipe. In the same motion it also grabs Anderson by the throat and lifts him to the air.

Anderson struggles against the beasts' hand, desperately trying to reduce the hold on his throat and get a steady stream of oxygen into his lungs. However he finds it's a hopeless endeavor against its steely grip. Slowly he's moved closer to the beasts head. It looks him up and down and briefly sniffs him, Anderson assumes it's inspecting its dinner. Yet when the beast opens its mouth it's not to take a bite out of him but rather to speak in some incomprehensible guttural language to the wolf things surrounding the clearing.

The beast relaxes its grip and Anderson falls painfully onto his back, gasping for breath with newly opened airways. As the beast walks away he's resigned to impotently staring at its form as it disappears back into the tree line, unable to form any words from his bruised throat and starving lungs. His mind is full of questions. What were those things? Why did they spare him? Is this what happened to his daughter? Were those furry fucks the reason she never returned home that night? What the hell was going on here? Aggravated, tired, cold, wet, bitter, in pain, and above all stressed beyond belief, he shouts an exclamation into the sky.

"Fuck!"

His face was hot but his body felt cold. He stares into the forest, half hoping one of the wolf things would reappear to somehow enlighten him on what the hell just happened, and half hoping it would just put him out of his misery with a bite to the jugular. But nothing reappears. It's just the gentle breeze, the sound of the grass swaying, the blue lights dancing in the wind. He hears something behind him, the sound of grass bending underfoot. He turns his head.

A few yards up the clearing was another one of the furry beasts slowly approaching him. This one had a female profile and was shorter than the rest, her height roughly similar to Andersons own. When she stops in front of him, he speaks in her direction, voice hoarse and full of hate.

"What?! One of you finally felt like finishing the job?"

She puts a furry hand in front of her and opens her mouth as if she's going to speak, but timidly puts it down as if unsure of what she should do. She brings her wrist up to her chest and removes a bracelet hidden under her fur before tossing it in front of Anderson. He looks to the bracelet, then up to her, then back to the bracelet, not wholly convinced this isn't some kind of trick. Cautiously he puts his hand forward and grasps the tangled bit of leather and cloth. Standing up on shaky legs he angles his hand towards the moonlight so he can get a better look at it. The strap was made of a crudely cut leather, fraying at the edges and rough in texture. Tied across a portion of it was a piece of purple cloth, it felt kind of like nylon. Anderson turns the bracelet over in his hand to look at the rest of it. He sees the other half of the leather strap and what was meant to be the focal point of the jewelry, an oval shaped piece of wood with a name carved onto its smooth surface.

Anderson feels a lump form in his throat as his eyes move across the 5 letters. He recognizes the name and the wooden oval. It had been just a couple years ago, his family was at a renaissance fair during the last days of September. Mary had decided to go check out some of the shops so he and his daughter went to watch a jousting tournament. She was munching on an almost comically large turkey leg as they watched the armored men bravely gallop to their starting positions and give their exaggerated salutes to a cheering audience. He asked her if she hoped the blue or red knight would win the joust, and she replied the blue one. Now wishing the competitor in blue would gain the advantage this bout he watched anxiously as they lowered their helmets and readied their lances. There were a tense few moments as they pointed their weapons at each other and the drums accompanying the tournament beat their steady rhythm. In a sudden surprise the drums stopped and the two knights charged at each other, armor gleaming a shiny silver as they rapidly advanced towards the center of their lanes. Their lances were subtly aimed and adjusted as their horses galloped the last few yards and finally the loser was determined in a spectacular fashion. The knight in red was thrown off his horse as the blue lance hit him square in the chest, his body landing with a metallic shudder as the armor absorbed the worst of the impact. The blue knight also took quite a hit, yet the red knight's aim was not quite as precise and he was only hit in the shoulder. He leaned off to one side of his horse in danger of falling off entirely, yet he steadied himself and threw a clenched fist up in the air in victory. Anderson and his daughter cheered happily, he gave a brief worried glance as she almost choked on a chunk of turkey as she yelled. He pats her on the back as she looks back up to him with a wide smile.

Eventually getting tired of seeing the jousts they decided to join Mary and began walking towards an area with many small tents acting as temporary stores. They walked past displays of chainmail, period clothing, swords, bows, food, and all manner of knick nacks and souvenirs. He saw her look around at the many shops they passed yet she didn't indicate she wanted to buy anything from them, that is until they passed one with an old man out front carving various bits of jewelry out of wood. They watched him work for a bit, his finesse and confidence around his many sharp tools indicating he was clearly an expert. She gave Anderson the classic "Can I?" look and he replied with a nod of his head. She told the man her request and he quickly got to work fulfilling it. It took no longer than a few minutes for him to finish the carving, his experience no doubt expediting the process. As a final touch he turned the wooden oval over and pressed a red hot iron onto it's back, the imprint of a shield and hammer acting as a makers mark. His work now done, the old man motioned over for to come closer and he gave her the bracelet, it's construction composed of the wooden oval attached to a plain strip of supple leather. Anderson paid the man for his work and looked to his daughter who was admiring her new piece of apparel, then they started walking in search of Mary again.

"Well do you like it?"

"I think it's so freaking cool."

"What did you tell him to carve on it?"

"Just my name, see?"

She puts the bracelet up to Andersons face so he can view it, the letters were damn neat despite being put on there by hand.

The exact same neat letters Anderson was now seeing in a purple tinged light. His eyebrow twitched as he mind was coming to terms with what was in his hand. There was just one thing left to verify. He knew what he was going to see when he turned the wooden piece over yet there was some part deep within him reluctant to do so, unwilling to put the final pieces of the puzzle together. With trembling hands he turns the bracelet over to view a hammer and shield seared onto its back. He looks back to the wolf thing in front of him.

That..._wasn't_his daughter.

It simply couldn't be. His daughter didn't have fur or claws or teeth that long. She didn't have a muzzle or wolf ears. Hell, she was supposed to barely come up to his shoulder, not nearly be as tall as he was. She takes a step forward and Anderson, still in denial, stumbles back on his bad ankle.

"Get back!"

"Dad..."

It's her voice that made the connection for Anderson. It wasn't what he was expecting. It didn't have a deep guttural inflection like the wolf that choked him did, it wasn't animalistic or deep or malicious or disingenuous, it was the voice of his little girl. As soon as he heard it whatever parts of him that refused to believe the wolf could be his daughter crumbled, his mind finally letting the pieces fall into place. As he looks at her he now sees her fur, red just like his wifes, and her eyes, dark just like his own. Anderson stares back at the bracelet in his hand as if it may help him come to terms with the conclusion his mind was reaching. Finally, he looks back to the wolf, hopes having won over doubts.

"...Sarah?"

"Hey dad."

She gives a short wave. Oh yeah, that's was her. Still in shock, he pauses briefly while trying to think of what to say next.

"Sarah, it's been a while."

"It has, you probably have a lot of questions."

"You have...no idea."

She points further into the clearing.

"There are some structures we can sit at and-"

Sarah stops speaking as her father quickly closes the distances and hugs her tightly. His voice cracks as he speaks.

"Don't you ever leave me again like that Sarah."

"Well it wasn't exactly up to me dad."

Eventually he exits the hug and looks her in the eyes.

"You are going to tell me everything that happened, I need to know, your mother needs to know."

"I will, I will, now let's sit down over there and I'll explain what I can."

Together they move towards an old crumbling structure made of stone. Several concentric rings were composed of arches held up by might pillars of a smooth white stone stained purple by the moonlight. Or at least they used to, much of the structure now laid on the ground broken and covered in moss and spindly vines. In the middle of each ring were several stone benches in varying states of disrepair. They sat at one of the more intact ones and began talking.

"So, what do you want to know first?"

Anderson stares at the ground as he tries to pick one of the many questions floating in his mind.

"Well first off how did you become a, uhh,..."

"A walking talking wolf woman?"

"umm, yeah."

"I don't even have a good answer for that, but I'll tell you what I know. I remember the night after you dropped me and Jessica off at the park. We had just settled down and went to sleep. Then I just remember waking up and feeling...so confused. My body hurt, my head hurt, I couldn't think straight. I remember tearing out of my tent and seeing Jessica in a similar dazed state. I tried speaking to her but my words didn't come out right, then I looked down and saw fur, all over my body. Didn't have much time to contemplate that before I had a sudden compulsion to run. I don't know why, or how, but I just knew I had to run in a certain direction. Like my life depended on it. I remember running for such a long time through the fog, until eventually it cleared and I ended up here, in this forest."

"But you don't know why you changed?"

"Your guess is as good as mine dad."

"And you've been like this the whole time you've been here?"

"If you're asking if I'm a werewolf, the answer is no. No matter what phase the moon is in I'm always half canine. As far as I can tell anyway."

"And what's this place we're at now? With all the toppled pillars and benches?"

"No idea, some kind of ancient ruin. Me and Jessica call it the altar. Most new arrivals pop up around here when they change."

"New arrivals? You're telling me people end up here on a regular basis?"

"I've only seen a couple new ones arrive since I came here. Both times it was during a full moon, that probably has something to do with it. Speaking of which, how the hell did you end up here dad? I always assumed only changed ones could get here."

"Well, I guess I must have followed one of your new arrivals through the forest until I came out the other side of a stream. Wandered over to the clearing then a few big wolfy guys surrounded me. Then they left and you walked up."

"Oh yeah, the welcoming committee. They didn't harm you or anything did they? I usually see them stalking around the edges of the forest. I tried talking to them once or twice, they aren't exactly ones for conversation. Doesn't help they don't speak any kind of language I've ever heard. If I had to guess they're probably like the guard dogs of this place, keeping it safe from outsiders. And yet they let you through."

"Any idea why they did that? For a while there I thought I was dead meat."

Sarah puts her hand under chin.

"Hmmm, must have something to do with the fact that me and you are both family. Only reason I could think of."

Anderson chuckles.

"You're saying those big bad wolves allow visiting hours?"

"Well it's all I got dad."

"Whatever happened to your friend? Jessica? I don't see her around here."

"Oh she's around here somewhere, haven't seem her for a few days. Most new arrivals don't stick around here for long. Boredom eventually gets to them when they've come to terms with the changes."

"But we're in a forest Sarah, how far could they possibly go before running into civilization?"

"Dad, come on, you didn't notice this place is a little odd? The blue lights on the ground, the purple moon, the way everything looks just a little strange around here?"

"Really? I thought it was just the acid I put in my coffee this morning finally kicking in."

"Come on dad, this is serious."

"What can I say, finding my favorite daughter tonight lifted my spirits enough for an attempt at humor."

"I'm your only daughter dad."

"And also my favorite."

She rolls her eyes, then continues.

"So this place, as far as I can tell, is cut off from the rest of the world. No one can go out but new wolves can come in."

Anderson's voice takes on a worried and inquisitive tone.

"What do you mean no one can go out?"

"A thick fog surrounds the edges of this forest, every time me or someone else tries to walk through it we end up getting turned around and walking back here. Like something out of the twilight zone. Me and Jessica tried everything we could think of to make it through that fog, nothing ever worked. I tried for a long time to get back to you dad."

Her furry ears perk up.

"But you aren't changed like the rest of us are, maybe you could make it through!"

"And then what? I don't want to be apart again Sarah."

"Maybe you could..."

She looks at the ground in thought before coming up with an answer.

"On the next full moon go back to where you entered here, you might be able to get back in again. Oh and..."

She takes a claw and cuts off a tuft of her red fur before presenting it to Anderson.

"Take this with you next time, the scent might keep the guard dogs off your back when you return."

He pockets the fur.

"Thanks, but I would like to see you more often than once a month."

She shrugs.

"So would I, but that's the best I got."

"What if I just stayed here with you? Spent the month here then returned on the next full moon?"

"Dad, call it woman's intuition but I have a feeling you aren't supposed to be here. For very long anyway. And I think they feel the same way."

She points towards several eyes reflecting by the tree line. More guard dogs.

"I guess that means I should head out before morning comes."

"True, but we still have some time before morning. So how have you and mom been holding up?"

For the rest of the night they talked about what each other had missed out on. The length of time they had been away from each other made even the most mundane event or bit of drama seem incredibly interesting. Eventually a pale orange haze appeared on the horizon signaling the approach of morning.

"Well dad, looks like our time's up."

The smile that was Andersons face for much of the night faded as he looked towards the horizon.

"I wish we had more time."

"So do I. I'll walk you down to the edge of the forest."

"Oh, you probably want this back don't you?"

Anderson presents the bracelet to her. She closes his fingers over it.

"No, show it to mom. A little bit of proof I'm not entirely gone."

"Good idea, I'm know she'll be happy to know."

The two walked silently until they reached an area where the trees stopped and a large wall of fog stood before them. Anderson hugs Sarah once more.

"I swear I'll come back on the next full moon Sarah. Come hell or highwater."

"I know you will dad, I know you will."

They stood with their arms around each other for several moments, each fearful of letting go as if it may be the last time they ever see each other. Eventually Sarah, mindful of the rising sun, exits the embrace.

"It's...time to go. I'll see you soon. I know I will."

He kisses her on head.

"I'll fight every one of those guard dogs with a rusty spoon if it means I get to see you again Sarah."

She punches him on the shoulder.

"Hey now, don't start a fight you can't win dad. Now seriously we're running out of time. Just walk through the fog and hopefully the forest will let you out other side."

"Right, I'll be back as soon as I can. I will!"

"I know, now get a move on before it's too late."

"Bye Sarah."

"Bye dad."

Anderson begins slowly walking into the fog. He looks over his shoulder as Sarah's silhouette begins to disappear and waves, he sees her wave back. He continues through the fog until he comes across the same stream from earlier. He walks slowly through it, careful not to sprain his other ankle. He's just about to the other side when...

He awakens to the sound of gurgling water.

Confused, he looks around. He was laying on his back on the muddy bank of a stream. He looks at his clothes, muddy and wet. He felt cold, very cold. He must have been laying out here for some time. The sky is a warm blue as the morning sun sits low on the horizon. There's the faint sound of traffic off in the distance, there must be a road nearby. Anderson looks back to the other side of the stream and sees nothing you wouldn't expect to see in a regular forest. No purple tinge, no dancing lights, no freakishly tall trees. Guess he made it out the other side after all. He had long since lost his sense of direction so he decides to find the nearby road and follow it back to the gas station.

Yet as he begins to walk a realization slowly comes to him. His ankle doesn't hurt anymore. A grim implication enters his mind. He reaches into his coat pocket expecting to feel a tuft of fur, a watch with a torn band, and his daughters bracelet, yet his pocket is empty. He tries every pocket on his coat and pants. No fur, no watch, no bracelet, just his wallet and flashlight. Wait a minute, he left his gun back there right? When one of the guard dogs swatted it out of his hand? He reaches to his holster. To be met with a familiar wooden grip. Come on, he fired that warning shot right? Surely there's a bullet missing!? His numb hands swing the cylinder out and spill its contents into his hand. One, two, three, four, five, six. Six unfired rounds.

The rounds tumble out of his hands and onto the dirt as reality hits him like a freight train. It was a dream. He didn't meet Sarah. There was never a strange forest. No ruined altar or purple moon. Just his unconscious mind creating a fantastical tale to cope with an unbearable reality. A false hope.

Eyes heavy with fatigue, he begins walking along the road until he eventually hits the gas station. He enters his car, his clothes muddied the seat but he was beyond the point of caring. He turns the key only to be met by the sound of the starter. He tries again. No luck. He realizes the car probably ran out of gas since he left it idling before he ran into the forest. Well that's just fucking great.

Anderson decides to drive back to the house for a fresh change of clothes before reporting to work. During the whole drive he feels sick to his stomach as he tries to figure out what happened last night. He figures the wolf howls were probably real, but the human scream was likely just an auditory hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and his compromised emotional state. Whoever was at the campsite probably bolted as soon as they saw a strange man with a gun running towards them. He couldn't blame them. Then he remembers falling onto the bank of the stream. He probably hit his head on a rock knocking him out, then everything after that was the dream.

He pulls up into his driveway. He knew his wife was still in the house. What was he going to tell her? That he went insane last night and woke up in a muddy stream after dreaming their daughter turned into some kind of wolf woman? Maybe it's better he just keep quiet about it. God, he couldn't keep going on like this. Maybe he should start seeing a therapist like so many people have suggested. It might hel-

*BEEP BEEP*...*BEEP BEEP*...*BEEP BEEP*...*BEEP BEEP*

Anderson hears an electronic beeping coming from his right side. Slowly he turns his head to the source of the noise. It was coming from his manila folder full of missing person reports. Could it...no way...the watch? Was the watch from his dream beeping? That wasn't possible, it didn't happen, or did it? Maybe it's another auditory hallucination. Another false hope. A devious trick. He was somewhat hesitant to open the folder as the beeping continued. What was he going to find? Nothing right? Just another dashed hope? Another dark memory to add to the collection? Eventually getting tired of the suspense he reaches over and rips the folder open.

A silver watch with a torn band, a tuft of fur with a familiar color, and a leathery bracelet. That's what was sitting in the folder. Still in doubt that what he was seeing was real, he grabs the watch. Its display was flashing 12:00 as it beeped. Anderson pushes a button on its side and the sound stops. If this was a hallucination it a hell of a good one. He puts the watch back and grabs the folder bringing it into the house. Once through the door he sees his wife washing the dishes after apparently having had breakfast. He walks over to the counter and slams the folder down alerting her to his presence.

"Honey! Where the hell have you been all night? I was getting worried about you."

Anderson silently grabs the bracelet out of the folder and presents it to her.

"Mary, do you, do you recognize this?"

She takes the item, a look of confusion on her face until she spies the wooden oval.

"Oh, this was Sarahs wasn't it? Where did you find it?"

Well, if two people could see it then it definitely wasn't a trick of the mind now was it?

"I found it...outside. I'll explain everything later."

"Explain what? Honey? Honey!"

Anderson grabs the folder and wordlessly rushes to his office. He sits at his oaken desk and takes a farmers almanac out of one its drawers. He furiously flips to the part with the moon cycles for the year and studies it, searching for the date of the next full moon. Eventually finding the next full moon, he takes a pen out of his desk and marks it on a calendar on his wall. He was not going to miss that date. Looking back to his desk he sees the folder with Sarahs missing person report laying on the top of the stack. He slowly walks over to it, grabs it, and crumples it before throwing it into a trash can. Because he knew where she was, and he knew exactly where he was going to be on the next full moon.

In the grand expanse of green

Where moonlight shines unbroken

Through a forest now serene

Into fog once thought choking

Past two banks of muddy shores

Across ground lit with color

Beyond guards with steely cores

Whose piercing stares seem duller

In the land of purple hue

Sitting upon stones of white

He glimpses a welcome view

Hidden in the dead of night

No longer full of doubt or dread

He'll be back, with his baby red