The wind howled as if it would shake down the ripe moon like an apple. Everyone else had come home and gone to sleep some hours ago, but Lucas lay awake on his bundle of blankets in Jonack's attic, staring at the wooden panels that lined the ceiling. It was hard to close his eyes when the sky was so bright. He could hear it, telling him to get up and be doing something, even if it was past midnight.
Herbs hung in rows from the roof rafters, some of them cut fresh from Chizzy's garden behind the house. Most of them had been hanging for several months. In the daytime, the new green bundles stood out starkly against the brown of the dried herbs, but in the dark all Lucas could make out were black silhouettes. It was no punishment to live up here where things were stored. It always smelled like every nice meal Chizzy had ever made for Jonack and her children and Lucas.
There were things stacked in the corners—chests of quilts and old clothes, boxes with tools that were broken but repairable, trinkets that had been passed down through Jonack's family for generations, waiting to be brought out on a special occasion. Lucas felt that he belonged here too, since he also existed for a special purpose. It was right for him to be stored in the attic until the proper time came.
Tugging on the string around his neck, Lucas felt for his mother’s charm, drawing it from where it always hung behind his shirt to fiddle with it. He was bored, and it was nice to look at it here in the dark. The charm had a faint luminescence, like the thin lines of micah rocks when they caught in the sunlight. With the help of the full moon shining through the window, it cast eerie shadows on the slanted roof.
It really was a girl’s necklace, so it was strange that his mother had given it to him. Secretly, Lucas hoped that it might have some kind of protective charm, that she had given it to him for safety. He sighed. Wren and Jonack and Jonack's wife Chizzy had known his mother. At least, he was pretty sure. She must have lived in Greydawn once. They all thought she was dead, probably because she had run off with the hunters and never come back.
They would probably think the same of him when he left. But he was young still. He had to wait here until he was strong enough.
A shadow fell on the wall under the window. It was shaped vaguely like a face, with large eyes and an impish grin. Lucas smiled, turned the charm in his hands to see the shape shift. It moved with his movement—jumping out from the wall to grab at the cord around his throat. It was alive!
Lucas yelped, but he was too startled to react helpfully. The cord of the necklace snapped, and the charm came away in the shadow’s hand. Lucas grabbed at it, but it had already darted away.
The shadow scrambled up the windowsill, the charm's glow cutting through its palm. Grabbing his knife, Lucas sprang up just in time to see her laugh and disappear. He ran to the window, quickly scanned the yard below. It was on the ground outside the window, only a few yards away. Thinking only of caching the thief before it escaped, Lucas jumped straight out of the second story window.
He woke as the sun broke the horizon. For a moment he could not remember what he was doing outside. As the events of last night came back to him he grabbed for his necklace, half convinced he had dreamed it all. The cord was gone.
Standing up, Lucas glanced down at himself. He did not seem to be hurt, though he did not quite understand how he could have blacked out without an injury. Had he been secretly tired enough to fall asleep mid chase? Regardless, he would have time to puzzle the whole thing over later. By tomorrow the shadow monster could be long gone, but if he hurried and if he was extremely lucky, he might catch it before nightfall. It had to be before nightfall, because she would be in the woods. Lucas would not go into these woods at night. He knew better than that.
If you are wondering why a shadow would forsake the natural occupation of its kind and take to stealing trinkets from small children, I would remind you that most people do not know as much about the world as they think. In any case, Lucas was not surprised in the slightest.
Lucas ran down the hill Jonack's house sat on, around the charred out remnants of last night's bonfire and the long expanse cornfields, only pausing to catch his breath as he reached the edge of the forest. He felt a little bad about running off with no warning. Again. But it could not be helped—this was an important and time sensitive situation.
“And what are you doing here?” a voice demanded.
Lucas looked up. Wren was standing in the middle of the path that led into the woods, as if she had just emerged from them. Still, it was only just sunrise. Wren would not have been in the woods at night. She could only be here to scold him.
"I'm going—into the forest,” Lucas said between gulps of air. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“I won’t,” she laughed, “I only mean—”
“Thanks,” Lucas said, pushing past her.
“Wait,” she called after him, “I need to speak to you!”
He never heard the rest. If Wren bothered to continue shouting after him, her words were drowned by the crunch of his footfalls in the underbrush.