The Unhappy Heart (Book 1 of The Wolfheart Trilogy)

1. The Luring of the Woods

Andrea was no amateur in sneaking around a house at night without making a single noise. But she had yet to master the art of climbing the attic stairs.

They creaked and groaned under her weight, as though they were threatening to give way. It wasn't like Andrea had been outright forbidden to climb them or to enter the attic, but there was no denying that there just seemed to be an unspoken rule about it. It was not the first time Andrea had gone up there however. In the past few years since Andrea had come to live at the Hale's house, the attic had become a place of refuge and quiet.

She pushed open the door at the top of the stairway and entered the small room. Cobwebs caught at her hair, and something scattered across the floor out of sight. Andrea was used to it all though. Crawling across the floor and over a pile of cardboard boxes, she finally made it to the far end. A small window was there.

Gazing out, Andrea found to her delight that a full moon had risen above the forest. It was settled against the tree tops, seemingly staring back at her. A small smile played across Andrea's lips as she leaned against the window sill with a contented sigh.

The memories of earlier that day, and of how she had cried to her aunt faded from her mind. Her eyes blinked wearily and soon she was fast asleep.

*          *          *          *          *

"Francis," Andrea said, addressing her childhood friend and classmate as they walked back from playing at the soccer field. "Do you ever think of dead people?"

Francis who walked behind her with his hands shoved deep into his pockets was notably startled by the odd question. But he recovered quickly and shrugged his shoulders.

"I think about my mum sometimes."

Andrea who had turned to face him and was now slowly walking backwards, tilted her head and peered up at him closely.

 "Do you ever wonder what she might have been like, and how different your life could have been if she was still alive?"

Francis shrugged again. "I guess so."

Andrea huffed at his nonchalant answer, and went back to her thoughts. It was something she herself wondered often. If her uncle Steven hadn't run away that night, would life had been different? Would her mother still avoid this place like it held the plague?

She looked up at the trees that lined both sides of the path. They were old and gnarled, with long unkempt branches that reached all the way down to the dirt road. They reminded Andrea uncannily of thin groping fingers. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and her footsteps hurried. She always felt the need to fasten her pace, as she passed this one particular area. The three wooden crosses that had been cruelly nailed into the nearest tree made the already eerie place, even eerier.

Andrea tried not to look at them as she passed by, but the names written in large black letters seemed to jump out at her, despite being faded with age. Carter Romans. David Waite. Steven Warring.

Three names for three lost souls. Souls who were slowly becoming forgotten stories because no one wished to talk about them. 

"Andrea, get away from there."

Andrea jumped back in fright, as Francis's panicked voice startled her. To her horror, she realized she had wandered straight off the path, and was standing in front of the crosses, staring up at them. She quickly hurried back to the safety of the dirt road, and stood gasping for a breath she had not realized she had been holding.