Smoke and Ash

When we leave the city, it is still quiet. The sky shivers in anticipation but the ground is dry. We snake through the woods for hours and the locals say there won't be any snow. She writes from the city to say it's already started. We light a fire and the old farm house creaks in the warmth. 

Later, when everyone had gone to sleep and the house was silent, I milled around the kitchen, washing dishes and setting dough for the morning. A full moon outside cast shadows across the rolling hills, but the monsters stayed away. The fire turned to embers in the fireplace. 

Maybe if I tell myself

Enough

The wine was the best we'd ever had, but I think perhaps it was just happiness we were tasting. We're not out of the woods, but for what it's worth, I think we may well be in the clear.