Men were talking in voices lowered to a whisper as women with ashen faces silently started to break down camp and prepare the covered wagons for our westward journey to a new home land. Not quite a man but beyond being a boy I am tasked to tie down the tarps for the traveling party using the tying hook to secure down the flaps. Everyone felt the uneasiness in the air save the children and the pretty old daft lady who rambles to herself.
A sweet chilling thrill went through me as I overheard two leaders talking. They had discovered the bones I left behind. They couldn’t keep the screams of pain and barking mad howls heard in the night a secret but they will the bones. The men spoke of how unusually clean the bones were on the newly killed game. What spooked them most were the footprints. Prints of a human barefoot that transformed into what looked like a large paws similar to a large dog. When the men walked away I hopped down from the wagon and washed the mud from my bare feet in the stream wondering if the moon was full again tonight.