Night Shifters

The lingering light was obliterated by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed the forest. The night sky stood an inky canopy of darkness freckled by stars. Some were dull, merely flickering into existence every now and then, but there was an adequate amount of shimmering stars to illuminate the dark moonless night.

The lake glistened, mirroring the assemblage of stars before a faint wind brushed against the water's surface and the ripples ruffled the stillness of the surface. The voluminous trees and the surrounding bushes had become the backbone of the forest, standing as passive protectors of a peaceful place.

The occasional hoot of a hidden owl was the only sound to permeate the silence until a chorus of slapping footsteps and crunching of autumn leaves from the tall trees that lay scattered on the forest floor echoed angrily into the emptiness of the night. The owl omitted a screech of protest and took flight as a man emerged from the shadows.

He was dressed in all black and carrying a heavy back pack. He had smooth flawless skin which was like a sheet of well done cloth. On either side of his straight nose were two blazing hazel eyes that were framed by graceful brows and his wavy brown hair was hidden under a woolly hat.

The dirt path ahead of him was decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves that crunched beneath his feet as he pushed their remains deep into the soft soil. He trudged on as bugs hummed and buzzed their little annoying songs. Mosquitoes landed on the exposed skin they could find but he quickly slapped them away.

Thunder came like the prelude to a great song, startling the man as the impetuous rumbling permeated the air. It seemed to crack the air, as if the very sky might split apart and rolled like the ash cloud of a volcano.

He stopped and calmed his racing heart. He knew it would rain tonight. It was the only reason he'd decided to do what he was about to do because his scent would be washed away by the oncoming squall.

He took in a deep breath. The air was thick with the sweet smell of the coming storm. He took a minute to survey his surroundings before he resumed walking.

Soon, it began sprinkling. Little droplets of water drenched his skin, clothes and his hair through the woolly hat. The water droplets began growing larger and falling frequently. The sprinkling turned into a torrential downpour and the rain fell in chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next.

Lightning came like a rip in the inky night, as if behind the dark canvas was a brilliant light just waiting to flood through any crack no matter how small. There was a mutter of thunder as the wind tore leaves from the trees. The chilly wind cut through him like a knife but he couldn't care. He had a job to do.

The ground had turned into thick, slushy mud and he had to make his steps firm so he wouldn't slip. Ahead the forest trees were thinner and as he drew closer, he saw that the ground gave way to a marsh of tall reeds, the soil submersed in water. There was a fallen tree serving as abridge above it. There was no hand rail and nothing to steady oneself. The drop wasn't dangerous, just one hell of a messy landing.

With one careful boot, he tested the bark. It wasn't too slippery, but it was no concrete sidewalk, and it had a girth of about three arm spans. It was going to be near difficult in the howling wind and icy rain but he was determined.

He hefted the back pack on his shoulders and took a deep breath before another bone chilling cold lashed at him and he shuddered.

He took another deep breath and took his eyes off his feet before stepping onto the tree.

"Steady. Steady," he muttered to himself as he took it one footfall at a time.

He was almost at the end when the wind carried the rain in wild vortices, surprising him and causing him to lose his footing and slip. He managed to grab the tree with both gloved hands before he tumbled off fully and he let out a harsh breath. His heart was pounding wildly and he stayed there for a while before he swung one leg onto the tree. He crawled off the tree and let out a sigh of relief when he got to the ground.

He quickly got to his feet and after a couple of minutes, he began to see the crescent shaped markings on trees.

Werewolf Territory.

The trees finally gave way to a farmland with rows upon rows of plants. He had to be quick now. He was where he wasn't supposed to be and if he was caught, he would be killed. Especially if they knew what he was here to do.

He took off the backpack and opened it to reveal transparent bottles filled with a green liquid. He removed them from the bag and walked by the rows of plants, pouring the liquid onto the soil with hands that were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm. He didn't know what was in the bottles, he didn't know what he was doing. He had been paid to not ask.

He kept watching his surroundings as the fear of being caught made his stomach churn. He was in the process of emptying the last bottle when a howl filled the air and the colour quickly drained from his face as the bottle dropped from his hand. A cold wave embalmed him as the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his mouth ran dry when it was followed by another howl. It was close.

He didn't bother picking the bottle that still spilled its contents onto the soil as he turned around and ran back the way he came.