Page 8 of Blood Moon

According to Datt, the crappie were “biting like mosquitoes” because of the blood moon. Even Mamm liked crappie. Not only did they taste good, but they were small enough to fit in the pan. Danny didn’t know anything about frying fish or what the moon had to do with fishing; all he cared about dropping his hook in the water and pulling out that first big one.

He almost couldn’t contain himself as he and Samuel made their way down the path toward Painters Creek. Danny lugged their poles, the bucket of live minnows, and the keeper basket for all the fish they were going to catch. A few feet ahead, Samuel carried the camping gear, lantern, and tackle box. Around them, the woods were dark, misty and wet, the crickets and frogs singing loud enough to wake the dead. Fog drifted along the ground like smoke, depositing dew on the grass and leaves, and already Danny’s pants were soaked.

“You bring that jig you made?” Samuel asked, referring to the fishhook Danny had adorned with horsehair.

“Ja.” Danny was proud of that jig. He’d been wanting to try it for days. If the crappie weren’t interested in the minnows, they’d darn well go for the jig.

They reached the creek bank and stopped. Moonlight from a weird pink moon glinted off the water. Steam hovered above the surface. They’d fished this spot a couple of weeks ago. The crappie were plentiful and liked to take cover in the submerged branches of the dead tree that had fallen in the water.

“Don’t get your line tangled in the branches this time,” Samuel said as he hung the lantern on a branch that stuck out over the water. “I ain’t getting my shoes wet to untangle you.”

The memory stung. Only an inexperienced fisherman got his line tangled in submerged brush. Danny wasn’t an amateur. “I told you,” he muttered, “bass took my line and dragged it through.”

“My foot.” Samuel laughed. “You catch a bass tonight, and I’ll do your chores for a week.”

Danny knew his brother didn’t believe him, so he just shook his head.

They didn’t talk as they set up their tent. Crappie liked it quiet, after all. While Samuel secured his jig, Danny opened the bait bucket. He’d just popped the hook through the minnow’s tail when something stirred in the tall weeds behind them. He stopped what he was doing and looked at Samuel, found his brother’s eyes already sweeping the woods.

“You hear that?” Danny whispered.

“Probably just a stinkin’ raccoon.” Samuel looked down at the minnow on Danny’s hook. “Gimme a bobber.”

Danny opened the tackle box. He was rummaging around for the bobber when the snap! of a breaking twig sounded. Closer this time. Just a few yards away.

“Must be a big racoon,” he whispered.

Samuel stopped working on the jig and looked uneasily into the darkness. “Don’t be such a chicken.”

A sound that was part screech, part growl sounded from the dark. The hairs on Danny’s neck stood straight up. “That ain’t no coon,” he whispered.

Samuel got to his feet and squinted into the darkness. He was twelve years old, now, and almost a man. He was nearly as tall as mamm and strong, too. He was the bravest kid Danny knew. Which made it all the scarier because Danny was pretty sure he saw fear on his brother’s face.

“Gimme the lantern,” Samuel said quietly.

Danny got to his feet, leaned out over the water to snag the lantern and handed it to his brother. Around them, the crickets had gone silent. It was so quiet he could hear his heart beating in his chest. “What do you think it is?”

“Be quiet.” Samuel craned his neck, listening.

“Sounds big,” Danny whispered.

“Bobcat, maybe. Get a rock and we’ll scare it off.”

Danny looked around for a rock. “They don’t growl like that, do they?”

He barely had the words out when a massive beast charged out of the darkness. Danny heard a yelp. He saw the lantern fly sideways and hit the ground. The globe shattered on impact, plunging them into darkness. The next thing he knew he was reeling backward, feet sliding in the mud. He stepped on his pole, felt it snap beneath his foot. His leg tangled on a branch. Then he fell and his backside hit the water with a splash. A burst of cold took his breath.

“Run!” screamed Samuel.

Danny scrambled to his feet, looked around, but it was too dark to see much. He heard growls and grunts and the pound of hooves against the ground. In the moonlight, he saw a black shadow plow into his brother’s legs.

“Sammy!” he cried.

Samuel screamed as he was knocked off his feet. “It got me!”

An animalistic roar rent the air. Danny shot forward, scooped up the metal tackle box, and threw it as hard as he could at the creature. A clang! sounded. The box bounced off the animal’s head, hooks and bobbers and twine flying. The animal pivoted and looked right at him with glowing yellow eyes.

Danny choked out his brother’s name, but when he looked Samuel was gone.