I was standing stock-still in the silence of the night. It was an eery night, one where all you can see is the full moon covered by an ominous cloud. So it figures that I was sent to gather wood on on of these nights. The nights where you can hear a twig snap from hundreds of feet away. One of those nights where you can almost feel a sinister presence right behind you, in front of you, all around you. The trees seemed to scowl at my presence, as if I was a rude house guest and should leave immediately. I started to inch my way closer to the pile. I just kept repeating what Grandma had told me before I left, “Don’t worry, all the creatures live in the middle of the forest miles away; they haven’t come close to our town for centuries.” Albeit I kept repeating this in my head like a broken record, I still wasn’t assured. I had finally reached the pile. I gave a triumphant cheer in my mind. But all of a sudden, I realized that cheer was too soon…