READ THE TALE
The Path at Dusk
By the time Mara noticed the second set of footprints, the last light had already left the path.
They were small, neat impressions beside her own, appearing only where the moonlight reached through the trees. She stopped. The footprints stopped too.
Mara turned towards the old gate at the edge of the wood. A brass tag hung from its latch, newly polished, engraved with the name of the dog her grandmother had lost many years before.
When she looked back, the second trail no longer followed her. It led home.