The next night, I found myself slipping out of the house again, even though my aunt’s warnings rang in my head. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like something inside me was pulling me back to the woods, to that stream where I had seen him.

The air was cooler than the night before, the grass wet under my slippers as I walked carefully, holding up my skirts so they wouldn’t catch on the bushes. My heart raced the whole way, both from fear and from hope. What if he was there again? What if I ...