The Forest Inn

As the sun set in the golden sky, Harold and Abernathy drove their ute down a winding forest track. They zigzagged through tall trees, admiring the orange light which cast a mosaic of shadows on the road ahead.

“It’s getting late.” Harold glanced at the clock on the dash. “We won’t clear the forest by night.”

“Let’s find somewhere to sleep,” Abernathy said, “and we can head to the conference at sunrise.”

The married couple ran a catering business which had them delivering food to the remotest of places. Their current work was at a deforestation conference, located on the other side of the forest. There was already green-coloured muffins and tree-shaped cookies in the back of their ute, and the ingredients for warm food ready to cook.

“I think I saw a sign a while back for a bed and breakfast.” Harold flicked on the ute’s high beam as the sun fell away.

“Sounds perfect. Let’s hope we find it before an animal dive-bombs us.”

Right on the que, shivers shot down their spines as the howl of a wolf echoed through the woods. It was a long, ear-splitting howl which rose in tune and then slowly died down.

“Look out!” Abernathy shouted, pointing through her passenger window.

Harold slammed on the brakes and they were jerked against the seatbelts. “What? Did I hit something?”

“No…I thought I saw something... it was probably just a shadow.”

Harold squinted into the distance and then flicked off the lights. Through some scrub about a hundred metres away, he could see a wave of light. “I think we’ve found our bed and breakfast.”

It was a tudorcottage with a thatched roof and three chimneys emitting the scent of a wood-fire. Hundreds of red poppies cloaked the ground around it, their stems twisting in and out of tree roots. Candle-light soaked through the cottage’s windows, welcoming them inside.

Abernathy's eyes widened. “This looks expensive.”

Harold laughed and cut the engine. “We’ll pay them with muffins and cookies, if need be. C’mon.”

Once out of the ute, Abernathy jumped as she spotted an old woman emerging from the woods. She wore an old-fashioned brown dress with a corset, and held a bundle of dead rabbits. The woman flicked a strand of grey hair out of her eyes as she approached them.

“Don’t worry, dear.” She smiled warmly at Abernathy, who looked uneasily at the rabbits. “These will make a fine soup for breakfast.”

“We know all about that.” Harold shook her free hand. “We’re caterers, ourselves. Heading to the deforestation conference.”

“Oh!” The woman grinned, showing a set of healthy white teeth rare in one so old. “I hope it’s successful. I don’t know what I’d do if they took away my forest…” She glanced lovingly at the foliage. “Anyway, do come inside, there’s a room ready for you.”

Abernathy squeezed Harold's hand as they followed the woman to their room. There was something about the bed and breakfast that made her feel uneasy. Nevertheless, she fell straight to sleep in woollen blankets, the scent of cooked rabbit driftingaround her.

Harold shook Abernathy awake when tendrils of sunlight crept under the curtains. “Honey, the sun's up. We better leave soon if we’re going to make it to the conference in time.”

“Alright,” she yawned. “Pass me my jacket.” They hadn’t changed into pyjamas, so the couple wandered downstairs without delay.

Downstairs, the interior was warm and rustic. The woman had a collection of animal skins adorning the walls, some with flowers and landscapes embroidered on them.

“Can you imagine those on an animals back?” Abernathy winced.

“They might not be to your taste,” Harold laughed, “but you have to admire the handiwork.”

At the bottom of the stairs was a fireplace with a cauldron hanging in it. A thick, brown mixture bubbled within, the aroma of rabbit stew getting stronger as they approached.

“Ah, you’re early risers!” To their right, the old lady was standing beside a dining table, a stack of bowls in her arms. “I’m just getting breakfast ready. Sit down,” and I’ll fatten you up a bit, eh?”

“Thank you,” Harold said, “but we can’t stay. We’ve got to get to the conference... lots to cook!”

“It smells lovely though,” Abernathy added. She was already heading for the door.

“Oh, please stay!” The old woman begged. She dropped her bowls and followed the couple outside. “You must stay!”

“I’m sorry, we can’t.” Harold pulled the ute keys out of his pocket and unlocked the vehicle.

Abernathy fumbled in her purse for change. A gold coin fell to the ground, landing a cluster of red poppies. Leaning down to retrieve it, she admired the field of flowers, petals aimed at the rising sun.

“I hope this is enough-” She tipped the rest of the change into her palm and turned around, but the old woman had disappeared.

Abernathy's stomach dropped, her heart raced... her eyes met that of a wolf’s.

A growl rumbled in the creature’s throat. Its grey hair waved in the breeze and its wide eyes surveyed Abernathy.A set of white fangs reflected the piercing sun. In a pile beside the wolf was the old woman's clothes.

Abernathy screamed. “She’s a wolf, Harold! She’s a wolf!” The creature pushed onto its hind legs and howled. It was same ear-splitting howl they’d heard the night before.

Harold stared in shock from the driver's seat.Images of the rabbits, the animal skins, and the shadow his wife had seen whirled through his mind. He'd thought the cottage had been a lucky coincidence, but they'd run straight into the wolf's trap.

And his wife was in danger because of it.

“Get into the ute!” He shouted. Too late.

The wolf pounced into the air and knocked Abernathy over. She crouched in the poppies, trying to get up with no success. The wolf towered over her, foam dripping from its snarling jaws.

Harold clambered out of his, an inhuman strength finding him as he rummaged through the ute'stray for a weapon.Behind a case of muffins he spotted a set of kitchen knives, and knocked the food to the ground in persuit of them.

Abernathy whimpered as foam dripped onto her forehead. The wolf was playing with her, soaking in her fear. She could almost see the old woman behind its wide, hypnotising eyes.

Abernathy's heart skipped a beat and she felt her hands buzz with energy.Harold was creeping behind the wolf, gripping a knife. But he didn't reach reach them in time – Abernathy flung up her arms as the wolf went for the kill. It fell down on her, its weight thrusting the air from her lungs. She felt something sharp touch her chest and waited for the monster's fangs to rip away her flesh.

But nothing happened.

Harold pushed the wolf off his wife. Its corpse spasmed for a second, lifeless eyes staring at the sky, then a stream of blood flowed from its chest.

“Come on.” Harold dropped the blood-stained knife beside the wolf and held out a hand for his wife. “Let’s get out of this place.”

Abernathy, shaking from head to toe, allowed her husband guide her into the ute.They didn’t speak a word. Harold just gunned the accelerator, getting them as far away from the tudor cottage as possible.

Although vacant within, the bed and breakfast was bustling with activity that day. Pigeons feasted on the scattered muffins, not a single crumb left to waste. Ravenous crows pecked at the wolf's corpse, its blood unnoticeable amongst the red poppies. The tudor cottage itself fell prey to mother nature, its secrets lost to tendrils of vines and fresh growth.

Harold and Abernathy alone knew of the wolf, a ghost haunting their sleep.

When it was decided that the forest should be bulldozed, they were more than happy to cater for the workers. Not only were the trees and poppies destroyed, but so were their memories. They could move on.