Annie Newton

Walk Like a Whisper

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It didn’t call for attention in the lavender air of dusk, but when Louisa saw it, her feet stilled, her lips ceased their hummed tune, and her heart drummed. She stared into the window with the same focus as the coonhound by her side. They listened, like hunters do in waiting. But there was only the omnipresent rush of the river behind the cabin and the rhythm in her chest. Nothing more.