Under the Wolf Moon

The first full moon of the year rises cold and unyielding, a silver lantern hung above the Greenwood.

Locals swear they’ve seen pale figures drifting between the trees, trailing frost and echoes; not hunters, but watchers.

Among them is an unknown winter wraith: a quiet ghost whose form gathers the moonlight like breath on cold glass.

More will be written when they choose to be fully seen.

— Filed in The Maker’s Ledger, Third Day of January.