Sometimes By Moonlight Read Online Free

opened my eyes in time to see an owl near the fence swoop to take a small rat in her talons and fly off into the poplars, her silhouette ghostly in the moonlight.
     
    Filled with a new appreciation for the night, I hurried toward the old stone wall, losing the cover of the building for a moment. I didn’t feel any fear, just the heat of frustration building in my bones. I was risking a lot to come out here in the dark to chase nothing.
     
    Just when I was ready to turn back, though, I noticed a light on in the old well house, about a hundred yards ahead, out of the sight line of the main entrance of the school and the guard station. In its window, a faint light flickered, reminding me of the glow of the small candles Austin used to draw by at brat camp.
     
    I ran as fast as I could in my boots, the moon lighting my way in blue and silver on the snow. I slowed my roll near the door of the well house, breathing in puffs of air. Nervousness chewed at my insides. What would I say to Austin? I would have to confront him about the tabloid photo, of course, and then there was the whole matter of him not writing me all these months. I was going to need to be diplomatic.
     
    Shakily, I reached out for the metal latch of the well house door and pushed it open. In the dim light, I saw the sad little room was nearly bare except for some old sandbags stacked near a makeshift table made from a barrelhead. But the sight of an open sketchbook and pens made me smile. Austin had been there. And I figured if he’d left the candles burning, then he couldn’t be far.
     
     I shut the well house door and sat down on the sandbags to wait. Austin’s sketchbook was open to a portrait of me, done in his signature pen and ink style.  I’d never seen this picture before. When I’d met Austin the summer before, his drawings had been of animals, mostly birds. A picture of a person was something new. I smiled, thinking that maybe he’d missed me enough to want to draw my portrait. That was something, at least.
     
    I studied the picture closely, noting how the moon rose behind me in the background, its beams looking almost alive and casting long shadows on my face. He’d made me more beautiful than I knew myself to be. My normally crazy hair flowed out in perfect waves. He’d made my nose a little more delicate than it was.
     
    Looking at the portrait, though, I started to get angry. If he’d thought enough of me to draw a picture, then why had he waited so long to come to see me at Steinfelder? I mean, I risked everything to break him out of Camp Crescent. And he couldn’t even drop me a postcard?
     
    I was out in the snow a minute later, stomping my way back to the main building. But halfway there, I stopped and turned around. I really did need to wait for Austin. It was one thing to complain about him not showing up, but quite another to ditch him before he had a chance to explain. And I wanted to see him. That was the main reason.
     
    I neared the end of the old stone wall and leaned a hand on it to steady myself. I needed to chill. The situation called for me to be rational and as normal as possible when we were together again. I forced myself to take some deep breaths of the clean, night air, and then I squatted down behind a too-small bush to watch for Austin.
     
     As before, the sounds of the night echoed all around me. Scratching continued in the guardhouse kennels. The night birds, on watch for prey in the snow, rustled on branches. I thought of all those nights I’d spent looking out the window at the moon, never realizing the forest beyond Steinfelder was alive. Never realizing that if you just listened, you could hear everything. I let the symphony of the darkness wash over me.  It was as comforting as lying in a bathtub, listening to the meditative drip of a faucet. I felt myself start to relax.
     
    After a while, my patience was rewarded. I heard the crunch of footsteps as a figure moved across the snow toward the