He is a nice man, well loved by his community. Though he is rich, he has a modest house, and he loves children. There is no fence around his spacious yard, and kids love to use it for games because of the large field in his backyard, and the trees behind the field. It is an ideal yard for both athletic games and games such as hide and seek. He never minds the children in his yard, and parents have come to think of it almost like a park with a constant guardian.

Tonight is a full moon.

A few people notice him. He lets them know that he has a business obligation in the city, and he will be spending the night. He is leaves a few hours before sundown, and a few people out in their yards wave to him and smile as he passes.

A few miles from the neighborhood, a dark hill interrupts the scene. No one has ever built on this hill, and it has remained wild for as long as the locals can recall. No one would buy property there, anyway. There are wolves on this hill. Those who have lived in the area for a long time whisper that there is a curse. Regardless, it is a dangerous place, and mothers warn their children away from it.

Tonight, howls split the night air, and children are tucked more tightly into their beds. Yellow eyes gleam in the darkness. A shadow stalks the night upon the hill, soft paws dancing to the timeless beat of moonlight and nightmares.

One little girl did not listen to her parents. She sneaks out the back door, taking only her slingshot and a thirst for adventure. The full moon, she has heard, is the best time for adventures, the best time to find monsters to slay. Because her mother has warned her away from the hill, the little girl knows that the hill must have the best adventures.

Small pebbles line a path that runs through her backyard. She picks up a few and stuffs them in her pockets in case she needs to use her slingshot. Then, she sets off towards the hill, her slingshot in one hand, and one of her rocks in the other. She is ready for anything.

The golden-eyed shadow strikes without warning. Crimson spatters across the dirt at the base of the hill and gleams bright in the moonlight. A muffled thump is all the noise the girl makes as her body falls. The slingshot skitters from her hand across the ground and stones spill from her pockets, but the stone she carried remains clenched in small, rigid fingers beneath her body.

The shadow howls in triumph. The body is gone within the hour.

When the child cannot be found the next morning, her parents are not too worried. She has always had a tendency to sneak out of the house at odd hours and play make-believe games. They remember the 

howls from the previous night, however, and cannot help the small knots of nervous speculation that run through their minds.

A few hours later, they find the blood on the hill; that is all the evidence that anyone really needs. A few weeks pass as the girl’s parents wait without hope for her return, and then a funeral is held with an empty coffin.

He is at the funeral. The girl’s parents invited him, because he was always so kind to her, never minding when she rode her bike across his lawn or chased imaginary dragons into his yard.

He brings a rose to throw on her coffin. When it falls, it makes a red stain on the brown wood, reminiscent of blood on dirt. As he turns away to head home, a smile twists his mouth, and laughter dances in his yellow eyes.