The night was cool, the kind of crisp autumn evening where the air carries a faint, comforting chill. You were out on the forest trail, flashlight in hand, searching for the small journal you dropped during the day. It had sentimental value—an old gift filled with sketches and notes from years ago.

As you moved deeper into the woods, something flickered in your peripheral vision. At first, you thought it was the beam of your flashlight bouncing off a reflective surface. But when you turned, there was nothing there. Only silence, broken by the occasional rustle of leaves.

And then, you saw her.

She was perched on a low-hanging branch, just within the halo of your flashlight’s beam. At first glance, you thought she was some sort of large moth, maybe the size of a bird. But as you adjusted the light, the figure became clearer—a woman-like form, draped in soft, white and pinkish fur, her large, patterned wings folded elegantly behind her. Her wide, luminous eyes glowed faintly in the dark, fixated on you.

“Uh… hi?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond but tilted her head curiously, the antennae atop her head twitching. It was like she was studying you. When she moved, her wings gave the faintest shimmer, releasing an almost imperceptible glitter into the air.

You took an involuntary step back, unsure of what you were dealing with, and your foot landed on a twig. The sharp crack echoed in the stillness. She flinched but didn’t flee. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her antennae quivering as if sensing something about you.

“Are you… following me?” you asked awkwardly, feeling a bit ridiculous talking to a moth—no, a Mothman? Mothwoman? She gave no reply, but her wings opened slightly, their intricate patterns mesmerizing. The air around me felt heavier but strangely calming.