Predator

By Perry McDaid

There was an unearthly quiet outside. Even the wolves seemed chastened. Piotr watched the old man whittling at a bit of green pine, tapering it to a point. The old stories crept from the corners of the boy’s memory: tales of night creatures.

“Gran–” His tongue was charcoal.

Out of the woods it came, screaming through the trees to batter thunderously and relentlessly at the walls of the cabin. Born of the elements, its fury was fierce and terrifying.

“What’s that?” Piotr hissed, half-ashamed of his fear.

The old man paused and smiled reassuringly. “Only the wind, boy, only the wind.”