Afternoon silence.

I put on the coat and look around, locating the black half-wolf sat next to my leg. I take a rope and tie it around his neck, the dog sitting obediently, his tongue sticking out, hot breath fast and nervous. Not that it’s weird. It’s a typical excitement of going out. I always keep him at home, because he’s still young and goes crazy each time he sees a wild animal of any sort. After I’m done, I put the boots on and open the door, casting one last glance at my cat – also black – who is sitting in the doorway between the vestibule and the main part of the house, her gold-green eyes locked on us, motionless. I nod, as if telling her without words “I’m leaving, but I will be back” and step outside, locking the door behind me.

It’s so calm around. I scan through the quiet area and let out a sigh. There is barely any wind, and the sky is grey, without any rays of sun. I like it this way. So peaceful… I step down the three stairs and my feet splash into wet ground. It’s been raining for the past few days. I frown in discontent and shrug, walking around the house and towards the forest. Suddenly my dog tenses. I follow his stare and notice a movement of brown and white.

Oh….

Two deer trotter away hurriedly as soon as they notice us, jumping over the lumps of yellowish grass with grace. I tug at the leash and call my dog back. He obeys, though with some hesitation. For all the discipline he has learned, he still can’t really control his hunting instincts… although I think it’s more a simple will to play with something new than a wolf’s bloodlust. I force him to follow me in direction opposite to the one the two roes took. I can feel my legs drawn into the ground under me with my each step and go out lazily with a splashing noise when I pull them up and try to move forward.

Although he glances around every few seconds or so, I can see the base of the half-wolf’s tail kept up in a characteristic manner signalizing the urgent need… which he still refuses to satisfy, too distracted with the wild animals that are now hiding in a nearby group of bushes, probably observing us curiously. As they always do.

I slowly make my way up the hill, to a place where once were fields of ploughland. Now there is only dead, dark-brown earth. It’s just as life-less as everything around. It’s already the middle of spring. But what I can see around Is no green. There is only remains of burnt grass in the shades of yellow, beige and grey as the dominant hue. Underneath, visible and gleaming in some places, is water. It’s a dead swamp after the winter went away and the snows melt.

Dry plants and over-soaked ground. Those two elements combine in a weird ruined harmony of lifeless nature.

I look around. My body stirs. It’s not cold. The weather is temperate actually. But I can’t help but feel uneasy. What is this feeling?

I scan through the landscape, silence disturbed only with barking of some stray dogs on the other side of a nearby forest.

Everything is normal. Everything looks like it always does. Everything seems fine.

Only the air is still wrong.