The Mist
Lauren branded another tree with a missing flyer of Juice, her German Shepherd, who had disappeared a week ago. Her fingers lingered on the image of his face as a tear fell from her eye. Juice was a wanderer, the kind to vanish for hours before reappearing like nothing happened, but never for this long. He always came back. Always. Lauren roughly wiped the tears sliding down her cheek. He’s not dead, something she found herself saying more often. With a shaky breath, she stepped back, the soles of her shoes crushing the weathered, missing flyers on the forest floor. Lauren’s gaze shifted, her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened at the mist in the distance.
