The last summer sun slowly sinks. The moon, absent, soon leaves the trees and fields dark and shapeless. The wind gently shakes the bushes, not enough to cool down the air that has been heated the entire day.
“Good time for a walk”, you say.
You step out. Two hedgehogs, big and small, were scarfing down the dry cat food you had placed in small bowls near the door. Once they take notice of your frame, they freeze into place. You freeze as well. The stand-off is short-lived as they suddenly bolt out and disappear in the bushes, but you caught a good view of them. They will be back tomorrow.
A single, yellow sodium light shines a fuzzy disk at a crossroad. The small and bright dot becomes more precise as you approach: a few posts from a fence that vanishes in the dark, the white pebbles on the road, the tall grass from the nearby field. To the left, a farm, with closed shutters that let thin stripes of light through. To the right, the grazing field, empty at this hour. Straight ahead, the woods.
You resume your walk. The trees are quiet and the air colder. Nothing much happens while you’re among the trees.
When you come in view of the crossroad again however, something is there. You shiver.