Gradually, the campground quieted. The guitar player put aside his instrument and everyone succumbed to the effect of the diamond clear evening. The moon sailed from behind a shoulder of mountain. First, a crescent edge, then half a coin; finally a faultless disk emerged to shine upon the forest glen.

Kyle pressed her cheek against the comforting scratchiness of Dad’s wool shirt and struggled to stay awake for all of her sixth birthday. Yet, she must have dozed, for when she opened her eyes the fire had reduced to translucent crimson fragments. The moon rode cold and high amidst a sprinkling of heaven’s brightest stars.

Her father followed her gaze to the sky. "I make it around eleven-thirty."

"Time for bed." Mom’s lips pressed warm on Kyle’s cheek, a hint of Breck wafting from burnished dark hair that matched her daughter’s.

"Can’t I stay up until midnight?" Kyle entreated.

Mom wagged a slender finger adorned with a turquoise and silver ring. "You’ve already been asleep for over an hour."

"But I just . . ."

Swinging Kyle to his shoulders with a chuckle, Dad carried her toward the Rambler station wagon where she and the family Golden Retriever Max slept. Moonlight cast shadows at odds with the lantern, making her feel like she did when she twirled around too much.

Dad placed her on the blankets and she smiled up into eyes the same green-blue as hers, turned down a bit at the outer edges. His soft brown beard brushed her cheek and he whispered, "Happy Birthday."

Frozen forever in memory, that was the last perfect moment.

A hard jolt struck. It brought her father to his knees behind the Rambler’s tailgate.

Impossibly, the car seemed to drop, while Kyle’s stomach swooped like she was on a Ferris wheel. The sensation was of a long fall, but it couldn’t have been a second before the wagon bottomed with a jerk. It no sooner landed than it leaped and started jouncing as if a pair of giants jumped on the bumpers.

Max crouched but lost his balance. Dad made it up only to stagger and fall again. The lantern’s wild arc threw erratic shifting shadows.

Kyle didn’t know how to pray, only the ones that started "Now I Lay Me . . ." and "Our Father . . ." She cried into the night, "God, make it stop."

The ground rolled in waves. Braced in the back of the Rambler, she cracked her head on the side window and started to sob.

Dad was back on his feet, arms extended for her. She scrabbled toward the tailgate.

A rough wall of dirt heaved between them, a black ditch opening at the base of the scarp, deeper and wider than she was tall.

"Daddy!" she shouted into the rising thunder coming from earth rather than sky. The bucking ground threatened to throw her off the tailgate into the crevasse.

Pines as thick as Kyle began to whip as though their trunks would snap. The motion added an eerie howl to the din. Down the canyon, a grinding roar increased.

She looked for the place she’d last seen her mother.

"Mommy," she screamed, a raw ripping in her throat.

The lantern went out.

"Please, God." She prayed to wake in warm arms by the fire. They’d eat birthday cake and laugh because she’d dreamed this world turned upside down.

In the next instant, a great banshee howl struck and extinguished the brave blazes in the campground. At the same time, something black, immense and terrible bore down from the mountain. Kyle watched in horror as it blotted out the moon, leaving the most profound darkness she had ever known.