Witch of the Wild Woods

Prologue: Silver & Gold

Luna left the window open again inviting an obnoxiously frigid breeze into their shared guest room. Lane couldn't sleep. He was of course fully aware of the many things he could have done to get himself to sleep; get up, close the window, maybe even find a way to turn on Uncle Dan's ancient heater. It wasn't like the house was an original colonial or anything. But, when they first arrived in Washington nearly a month ago, it felt like their uncle had gone out of his way to make everything in his home older than it had to be. "Retro-style," is what he called it.

So, it happened that when Luna would sneak out of their guest room around Midnight for the last few weeks, the "Retro-style" window panes wouldn't be able to close all the way once they were opened. Not without a great deal of force and effort. Owls hooted. Late summer breezes whispered through the dense trees. Branches scraped against one another in an eerie nocturnal symphony. Lane was torn between doing what little he had to in order to get some rest, and breaking his perfectly comfy position in the old twin bed covered in a thick down feather comforter.

That's when Lane heard the scream.

He immediately sprang out of bed, reached for his navy blue vest, ball cap, and black aluminum Maglite. He slid his bare feet into the scuffed Timberland Boots and bounded toward the window. Lane waited. The night symphony had resumed. Leaves danced upon the wind. Branches scratched together and forest creatures moved unseen through the brush. That scream wasn't Luna's.

Luna did not scream.

He and his adopted sister had only been together for three years. They'd gotten into more than their fair share of mischief for barely being thirteen. Fights, conspiracies, and a dozen rather supernatural situations. As harrowing as the predicaments they found themselves in, Luna never screamed. A squeal of delight perhaps? To scream in fear was something Lane had yet to hear escape his sister's lips.

Having scanned the woods behind their uncle's unnecessarily rustic house, Lane eventually saw a single light on in the second story bedroom a few houses up the road. They weren't too deep into the woods; barely at the base of mountains. Uncle Dan had managed to purchase a rustic ranch home across the street from Mount St. Helens' National Volcanic Monument. At first read it sounds like a busy tourist spot. It wasn't. At least not busy from the perspective of Lane who'd spent most of his life in downtown Santa Fe, New Mexico beside a freeway regularly flowing with traffic. In this town, if you could even call it that, the silence weighed heavy.

Screams echoed for miles.

After a few minutes of staring at the light across the road, Lane awkwardly maneuvered his gangly limbs out through the window and onto the grass outside. The light was still on. Thoughts of calling the sheriffs were immediately dismissed. Lane had learned time and again that law enforcement, while not entirely unhelpful, were usually more of a hindrance. Despite whatever danger may lie in wait, Lane and Luna worked more efficiently when they dealt with a mystery directly rather than wait for questionably-helpful-officials to arrive.

Lane had walked nearly a quarter mile up the empty road when he realized that Luna was not by his side. Three years may not be a long time, but in the spring of his youth, Lane considered himself radically fortunate to have a sister like Luna. She simply had no fear. Or, at least none that they'd encountered so far. Her confidence was contagious, and she often admired his ingenuity. Being reliant on Lane wouldn't be giving her the credit she was due. Individually, they could manage just fine. Together? They were an unstoppable force and immovable object that worked in tandem, overcoming obstacles no ordinary pair of siblings could. When the frightened scream broke the still of the night once more, Lane felt the absence of Luna's fearlessness and the courage it fostered.