Autumn by Lisa Ann Brown

“We need to make sure there aren’t others who’ve gone missing, but have been overlooked. And maybe someone there has seen something, or knows something…” Arabel trailed off as Eli stared at her.
                  “You really want to go there, tonight?” he asked dubiously and she nodded. “Well, alright,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly, “but you might want to change your clothes. We’ll be traveling deep into the brush, and there’s mud. And I mean lots of mud.”
                  Eli continued to look doubtful but Arabel was confident enough about the excursion for both of them.
                  “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine. I’m excited to go. Someone knows something, they just have to!”
                  Arabel then proceeded to inform Eli of the attack in her room the previous night and today’s activities delivering goods to the cottages. She told him about the ominous laughter and the chilly reception at the Mantuives and the oddly disconcerting energy at old Mrs. Cranston’s. The rest of the visits had been uneventful and no one had shed further light on the state of things, though speculation was rampant.
                  “It seems to be getting stronger, bolder,” Arabel stated, shivering slightly despite the warmth. “But besides death, I can’t fathom what it is that it wants from me.” Arabel was speaking again of the evil, energetic charge of the grey eyed man, who seemed to be the primary force in the violence against her.
                  Eli was content to sit for a moment longer. The dining room was warm and he felt somewhat drowsy from the wine. He knew soon they’d be leaving the soft comfort of Arabel’s home and he wanted to just relax for one more moment with his full belly and grateful muscles.
                  Arabel watched Eli relaxing. He looked so tired that her enthusiasm for their night-time adventure ebbed and she wondered if she should just see about going to the Copse with him another night or perhaps on his next day off. But everything in her warned that there was no time to lose.
                  “I’ll go change,” Arabel said hastily, brooking no opposition, and she disappeared to her room to do so before Eli could recant his agreement of the plan.
                  When Arabel re-appeared, dressed now in a simple brown riding habit and stout black boots, with her hair tied away from her face, she looked so much like a pixie woodland creature that Eli laughed in earnest approval.
                  “Arabel, the witchy girl, the pixie maiden,” he said softly, repeating the nicknames she’d heard throughout her life. Arabel jerked away from the touch of his hand upon her shoulder.
                  Eli moved back in surprise. “I don’t mean to offend you,” he said immediately and Arabel relented, giving him a small smile.
                  “Just don’t throw any sticks at me, and we’ll be fine,” she said.
                  They left the house and Eli helped Arabel up onto the stallion he’d borrowed from the Murphy stable. The horse was a sleek black beast with a frisky nature and a love for speed. He would make good time on their journey.
                  “Come on, Jovah,” Eli said, snapping his wrist lightly on the reins. “Let’s be off,” and they commenced the hour long journey into the deeply thicketed woods of Ravenswood Glen.
                  Arabel sat behind Eli, her arms wrapped tightly around his frame, her body closer to his than she’d ever been to a boy before. There were no colours this time, but there was sensation, and Arabel was glad of the dark shield of night-time. As she held onto Eli, she felt something snap into place within her.
                  It felt so right to hold onto him; she, who’d never really had