The Blood Moon

A Moment

"Ma'am, before you go," called the driver. "Please let me apply some deodorant serum. My master would be most displeased if I allowed you to go into a wolf's den without protection. This will hide your scent, though it will do nothing to silence your steps."

"Well, I guess it's good I lost the shoes then," I mumbled, remaining where I stood a few feet away as he strode over with a canister that looked like a spray-on deodorant that I could have found at any human convenience store.

With a few waves of his hand he coated my body in the odorless mist which left a slight film of residue on my skin.

"Good luck and I'll be waiting here for your return."

"Thank you." I gave him a pinched smile and a nod before continuing on toward the path.

"How do I speed this up?" I wondered aloud in hopes of Hen hearing my thoughts. "I have no need of watching myself trekking through these woods."

"There's more than just the curse blockading this memory. In fact, I've untied the knot and the path is clear — magically speaking. If you find yourself encountering any resistance, that is all coming from within."

I took a moment to glance around the world that my memories had conjured. Trees of inky black stood against a dark blue haze that faded into a deep nothingness. Above me, the branches reached up into the endless night where no definable border between the two could be found. Below me, I walked on dirt of the deepest hue with only a handful of bright pebbles to remind me that I didn't stand on the precipice of an abyss.

Light trickled in to offer a hint of a trunk or a suggestion of leaves, but the blood moon did not offer the typical illumination a full moon would have. As a result, I swam through dark waters with arms outstretched, my fingertips searching for any shrubbery that could notify me of the trail's edge.

"I feel claustrophobic," I admitted, my heart racing as my memories continued to step through towards the bleak unknown.

"Anchor yourself. Remember that you have already survived this memory and that you are sitting here with me."

I would have taken a few stabilizing breaths in that moment, but I didn't know how to command my body in the police station while also existing in this past. As I struggled with where I was and who I was — unable to separate myself from the me walking through my memories — I heard Hen's continued pleas for me to anchor. But, I wouldn't listen. Instead, I demanded to be set free of this dark walk. I pounded against an invisible wall. My pleas silent screeches. My stubbornness overriding the suffocating embrace of the pitch black. Then in a blink, I found myself just short of a break in the trees.

"Well that's one way to do it," remarked Hen. "But remember you're here with me as you follow the thread of this memory. You're going to need that stability as you witness this."

"Has the curse done something?"

"No," she replied. "But you're going to need to know a friend is close by."

I had no response and I focused my attention on what was about to play out before me.

My past self hesitated, despite the halo of light ahead. The trail curved up and around a cropping of bushes that then led down a slight slope towards a clearing which was reigned over by the ominous red moon hanging high above. With the way the land rose and fell, all I could see were the heads of tall, wrought iron braziers and the flickering flames within. On occasion, a shaggy head would pop into view, but would disappear again as the body attached to it quivered and writhed. I couldn't tell from that vantage point why they shuddered so, but thought it likely had to do with the persistent clapping.