The ticking of the clock gave a cadence to his steps. He had to make it out before the bells started chiming. Every step took him closer to the window, from shadow to the pale glow of night and back to shadow, never stopping, fearing that if he hid, his feet would never move again. Just one more step. The sound of the bell reverberated through ihs chest. The window glowed amber. His feet stopped moving. This tower was now his home.

She woke in the frigid dark, pulling her boots on. This was it, her last chance. She slipped out the door, recently oiled to avoid its telltale squeak, and padded down the icy road. She had a long way to go. What would she do if she didn’t arrive before the doors closed? If she made it, the cold would be driven from her; if she didn’t, the cold at dawn’s light would probably kill her. Despair gripped her heart and her stomach. Why go on? If she turned back, the pain would kill her, but that same pain meant her gait was slow and unsteady. She should have awoken sooner. Going back meant a slow death; going forward meant release or relief; maybe she could make it. The sky lightened with the impending sunrise. Faster, faster, limping in the cold. She turned the corner, and the tower rose before her. She sped up, saw the man in the doorway, his eyes sad, close the door. The bell ran. The sun rose, and the air crystallized. This road was now her home.

He sniffed. The incense was fresh, unusual for this forest. He moved, slid to the left, and watched the creature standing by the fire. How long would his fire last? How long would the incense cleanse this clearing? Fire wasn’t a problem; neither was incense; together they create an issue. He shuddered, remembering when his brother - young, foolhardy, desperate to impress - ignored their mother’s warnings. His corpse was hardly recognizable. So he would wait, sunrise wouldn’t come before the fire died or the incense ran out. And so he circled, keeping his prey always in sight. The creature’s noises rose and fell in a strange melodic cadence like a lethargic, tone-deaf songbird. And so he waited, the cold beginning to press through his coat. The scent of incense began to wane; the creature bent down; and the last puff of smoke rose. He walked closer, hiding, looking for the trap. But none was to be found. The embers of the fire glowed red. He lunged at the creature, ready for a quick kill, a quick meal. He closed, jumped across the fire, and found nothing but mist. The creature gone, the sky light, the mist settling in a ring around where the fire had been. In the distance, a bell tolled, and the mist turned amber. He dashed at the mist but found himself back in the circle. The trees beyond splintered and shattered as the sun’s light broke them. He cursed. He had been tricked, taken for a fool. This clearing was now his home.