If it weren't for the foxes crying out in the distance he might have wandered right into the gaping maw he initially mistook for the underpass. The same stale air washed over his face but the tunnel, as far as he could remember, didn't have a tongue.
Taking carefully measured steps backwards he managed to make his way back to the lamppost at the crossroads to read the signs again and find that he'd, once again, taken the first left and not the second. It was a harmless enough mistake during the day but towards the night everything with teeth and an appetite for meat came out to hunt.
He made sure to tread as silently as possible past the first left, trying to ensure the false tunnel didn't see him, and ran for the right turning the moment he was clear. From there it was a straight road beside the dead lake and onwards to home.
In the low evening light he almost thought the lake was empty, as it should be for it namesake and the extremely corrosive runoff from the upstream mine. Unfortunately the waning moonlight gleamed against a pair of bulbous and cloudy eyes that might be - no, were definitely following him and slowly moving towards him.
The trick with night beings is to never let them know you're panicking. It only makes them more confident and more eager to taste your blood and makes you more likely to make a mistake leading to the aforementioned blood-tasting. Always walk quietly and with an air of ignorance untl you're close enough to sprint to safety.
And pray they don't meet you there.
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