The Night Forest
by Kit Campbell
She looked through the window though there was nothing to see on the other side; the depths of night hid what lay within her view.
She could sense him behind her, close enough to touch, but not.
“What is it you see out there?” That weird tightness to his voice that had been present lately.
“Nothing,” she said. “I see nothing.”
“Then why do you look?”
She shook her head and turned to look at him, this man who would one day be her husband, though now he drew subtly away from her. Why did she look, when she knew the small window and the black of night would show her nothing?
“It is past midnight,” she said instead. “Why are you not abed?”
“While you wander the halls, so shall I.” A light remark, one that could have been sweet, had she not seen the tension in his shoulders, had he not held himself so far away from her. He was watching her, like she might turn at any moment.
Turn into what, she had not decided.
The first change had been her difficulty sleeping. She’d taken to wandering the halls at night, though all slept except the guards on the walls. Still, despite her nightly excursions, she was not tired, not drained. But then, when she did sleep, the dream had come.
She was somewhere deep and dark, with trees towering overhead. She could …