It was well after twilight and the night was heavy with the scent of loamy soil and impending rain. A full moon sat lazily in the sky, trying its hardest to shed as much light as possible, but the light was swallowed by the night nonetheless. Erik walked along the path from the inn, his footfalls heavy and rapid. He chastised himself for staying out so late and attempted to calm his nerves.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks and wheeled his head back to see an old woman standing in a yellow patch of moonlight. She was unassuming at first glance; small and rounded, with pale skin and a shock of lily-white hair sticking out from under a generous night-dark shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. But then she lifted her head.

Her grin was like a badly cracked plate; jagged and seemingly irreparable. She leered at Erik, her grin unchanging, stretching out the thin, wrinkled skin of her ancient face. He wondered if the grin might cut his hand should it stray too close. The thought was, of course, a little silly, but he found himself keeping his hands drawn tightly to his sides, just in case.

Her grin, however, was not her only striking feature, simply the most viscerally arresting. Her body appeared crumpled in on itself, like a sheet of parchment that had been balled up in frustration. She walked towards him in the semi-darkness with an eerie, shuffling gait that could not have been comfortable, nor efficient. Erik swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Erik asked politely if not a little shakily as he stifled the urge to tug at the threadbare collar of his shirt. But she didn’t reply, no, she just… cackled. The sound was loud and hollow and it seemed to suck every other sound from the night, leaving behind an unsettling quiet as it faded. Her cackle was devoid of any humor but also, thankfully, devoid of malice. Erik relaxed, just a little and ran his hand through his disheveled chestnut hair, a sigh whistling through his pursed lips.

“Really,” Erik continued, his voice steadier this time, but still tentative and polite, “are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you? It’s dark, and the road is dangerous. I can bring you somewhere safe- there’s an inn down the road…”

The woman responded with another cackle, ear-splittingly louder this time. Several small animals leapt out of a nearby bush and scurried away in a panic. Her odd grin didn’t leave her face. Erik felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, though he tried not to show his discomfort. He tried to look into her eyes. And this time, he saw it clear as day; a slight furrow in her brow, the sheen of unshed tears, a twinge of pain. Erik knew, then, what he needed to do.

“Okay,” Erik sighed gently, his shoulders slumped forward, “follow me.” He walked slowly and patiently ahead of the woman, turning back every few feet to make sure she was still behind him. A deep well of feeling pooled in his gut, but whether it was the disquieting flutter of fear or the nervous elation of being useful, he wasn’t quite sure. It was too late for such distinctions and the night was already far too strange as it was.