Mothman's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Mothman left his hollow tree at dusk. He stopped first at the village's posting board, scanning the pinned notes for a name the villagers trusted. One paper appeared again and again: readings, blessings, guidance. Mothette. He had not seen her in weeks. His wings felt heavy as he turned toward the swamp's edge. Her lavender tent glowed under the stars, soft and warm. Mothman ducked inside. Mothette looked up from her cards and froze, then softened. He spoke plainly. The bridge was dying. He had two days. The villagers ran from him every time. Mothette listened without flinching. Her small hands trembled over the deck. She drew one card, then another. Her face went still. "They'll listen to me," she said. "I don't know if I deserve that. But I'll use it." She wrapped her starry shawl tight and stepped out beside him. For the first time in three days, Mothman was not alone with the weight. The messenger was found. Now they had to reach the village before the wood gave way.