Richard and John trekked tirelessly through the gloomy, twisted forest. Save for Mary, the Palmers had ignored Stacey's ridiculous claims and intended to wait until morning to send the two males of the family out to search for help, preferably in the form of a gas station. They had all slept in the car that night, but when the family awoke to find the huge, polychromatic moon still high in the night sky at 9:00, they sent the father-son duo out anyway. Now, John was shivering, and his breath was visible as he and his father made their way through the trail.

"Hey," he began grimly. "Do you think we're still in Brown Mountain?"

Richard scrunched up his eyebrows and pondered the question for a few seconds, then smiled halfheartedly. "I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

"Too cheesy, Dad, too cheesy. Also... that stuff Stacey was talking about... you don't believe it, right?"

"I don't, but honestly, we'll never know for sure. So far, she's got the most reasonable explanation. She's got the only explanation."

"She's got the dumbest explanation."

"Keep your eyes peeled for castle, just in case," Richard said quietly, his eyes blank beneath the lenses of his bifocals. "Just in case."

They both froze as a faraway howl sounded. A few seconds later, two more followed.

"Funny to think," Richard mumbled, "that those wooden wolves howl at that." He thrust his index finger to the strange moon above. Right on cue, there were more distant howls.

"Dad," John whispered. "What if that tunnel was a spaceship? You know all that crap about Brown Mountain and aliens. What if that tunnel was just a disguised spaceship or... something? This could all just be some alien setup, and the aliens got some stuff wrong, like the moon, and the time of day and night, you know? I... I... Well, don't look at me like that! It's way less ridiculous than Stacey's theory!"

"Don't snap yet, son."

A soft whimper began to sound. Coming from a particularly gnarled oak, it was enough to make Richard pause, adjust his glasses for the umpteenth time, and check behind the tree's trunk. He gasped at what he saw, and John scampered over to see his discovery.

"Oh, Jesus," John breathed. "Oh, Jesus Christ, God, Noah, Moses, Josiah, Mary—"

"Shh!" Richard whispered sharply. Before them was a tiny Timberwolf pup; comprised of twigs and green stems, it lay on its belly, covering its muzzle with wooden paws. Its eyes were large, pink orbs, aglow with a strange, animalistic sort of innocence.

John jabbed a finger in the air. "Don't you just love how weird life is sometimes?"

Reaching out to touch the small wolf, but then stopping himself, Richard changed his expression from one of arrant awe to one of worry. "This is amazing... but shouldn't it be in a pack?" he asked, turning towards his son. John was silent for a moment before mumbling something that sounded like an, "I guess". The wolf pup's whimpering turned to growling, and it attempted to bite its discoverer, but Richard yanked his hand back.

"Can we keep it?" John asked, smiling and raising his eyebrows jokingly.

"I don't know whether you're serious or not, but if you are, then no," Richard said. "Absolutely not. We have priorities."

As if to defend John's want, the pup cocked its head, stood up, then began chasing its tail. It was then that the curly-haired teen decided to turn his question from ingenuine to genuine, asking, "Really—can we keep it?"

"So you're actually serious."

"I'd take care of it. I mean, you just said it's been abandoned by its pack."

"You're serious, you're serious, okay," Richard repeated quietly to himself, his palm at war with his forehead. Louder, he said, "And how do you know how to care for a wolf pup? An alien wolf pup that's literally made from twigs and leaves? What would you do when it gets bigger, stronger? What would you name it?!"

"How 'bout Blaire?"

"Blaire? And how do you know whether it's male or female?"

"That's why I'm naming it Blaire. Unisex name."

Richard sighed. "In that case, that's why you're naming ze Blaire, John. Ze. Or hir, or hirs, or hirself."

"Grammar Nazi."

"You aren't taking the pup anyway," Richard said sharply. "Besides, it could have fleas."

"It's made of wood! Actual, literal wood!"

"John, leave it alone. We're going. It's cold out here, and we need to find a gas station as soon as we can."

His eyes were suddenly wild as John stared straight at his father, shivering in the frigid night weather. "A gas station? I'm... I'm sick of this! Where the hell are we going to find a gas station, Dad?! We just drove straight into a world where the nighttime never ends and killer alien wolves try to eat you! We've got no gas, no cell service! Where the hell are we going to find a freaking gas station?!"

Richard, his face pale, suddenly wasn't listening. The Timberwolf pup released another shrill whimper and dove behind a bush.

"Dad? Are you even listening to me?!"

"John, look behind you."

Slightly unnerved, John whirled around to see what was so apparently frightening. Sure enough, a cartoonishly-silhouetted figure stood about five meters away from him. It looked like a tall, potbellied woman with an otherwise thin torso, absolutely no arms or neck, and what appeared to be a huge pair of angelic wings sprouting from her lower back; her tapering legs were abnormally thick, and her head was enormously large, bearing a single horn, two catlike ears, and a gigantic mass of hair that rippled ceaselessly, even though there was no wind to speak of. But what had gotten to John most were her eyes—they were the only parts of the figure that weren't haunting black silhouettes. They were extremely, disproportionately large, with bright, glowing blue where the whites should have been, irises of a darker blue shade, and pupils that were thin, reptilian slits.

John gasped, and the figure dashed out of sight.

"You did just see what I saw, right?" John asked weakly.

"A winged unicorn?"

"I thought it was a mutant, armless, neckless pregnant woman."

Richard was too shocked to find John's statement humorous. "Stacey was right," he said, removing his glasses and wiping the lenses. "I think... we were just in the presence of Nightmare Moon."

John was preparing to counter this with the fact that neither of them had seen the figure clearly, what with the woods being evermore dark, and that it could have been a freaky extraterrestrial, when he heard leaves ruffle nearby.

"Dad?"

The ruffling drew nearer, and at a terrifyingly rapid rate.

Richard scrunched his eyebrows. "What in God's name—"

John heard all sound vanish as he was suddenly enveloped in cold. Everything became tinted in his vision, as if he were looking through a pale, fluorescent blue haze. He saw a bubble of sparkling blue energy materialize around Richard, and tried to shout, but everything was happening too fast; heavy metal chains were sharply wrapped around him and his father, pulled painfully tight. He could faintly discern barking, then wood being ripped apart. There was dark, sadistic laughter; it sounded like that of a demented woman, and was the last thing he heard before the world turned black.

* * *

Mary found herself on the brink of sleep when she was interrupted by a quiet comment from Stacey.

"Is Daddy back yet?" the young girl mumbled, having just woken up from a nap of her own.

"No, he's not," Mary replied grimly. "He and John'll find a gas station soon, though."

"But there is no gas station."

"We don't know that. Right, Mom?"

Alondra ran her hands through her dark hair, her feet up atop the dashboard. She gave a stressed sigh and said, "You're right, we don't. A station out here is unlikely, though, because then it wouldn't make sense that no one's heard about those... wolves." She turned around and stuck her head between the two front passenger seats, staring at her daughters. "You guys both know that I wish we didn't have to send them, right?"

"Why did we have to send them again?" Stacey asked softly.

"We need supplies, Stacey. Food and water. And help."

"But we have food and water," Stacey said. She wiped away the ghosts of tears from her eyes.

"I know that, but it's not enough to last us. I'm sorry, but I don't know when or how we'll get back." Alondra was beginning to wipe at her own dark eyes. "I just want to make sure that you guys know I hated sending your father and brother out there. You know that, right?"

"We get it, Mom," Mary murmured. "It was a life-and-death situation. Either thirst or starve to death, or send John and Dad to get help."

There was a short, melancholy silence between the three. It was a silence interrupted by a loud knock at window by the driver's seat. Mary's expression turned from one of sadness to one of ecstasy, and, thinking her father and brother had returned, leaned forwards, unlocked the driver's door, and threw it open.

What she saw was neither her father nor her brother.

Author's Note

"Ingenuine." I have no idea if this is a real, official word or not, but it exists, so I used it. Couldn't find a better word, anyway.

And, God, pacing is so hard.