The man the wood kept

He stops. The trees were listening; the air is holding its breath.
He exhales sharply, presses his finger into the bark of a gnarled oak. A pulse trembles through the wood. The branches above shift, whispering something only he can hear.
"Not now, not tonight, please" he whispered softly to himself.
He tries to pull back, to sever the connection but the forest won't let him get away, not now, not ever.
A faint movement ahead. A shape in the mist. A shadow creeping through the tress when there should not be one.
His pulse quickens. Somone's here. Someone powerful.
Then a sound behind him.
A snap, a branch breaking, rustling of trees. A sound so faint that no one could hear but he can.
His breath stills. He is not alone, someone is here and he know who is he, something powerful yet unwanted.

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