Merlin's Wood (Mythago Wood) by Robert Holdstock

wrap the paper round a black stone and throw it into Broceliande (or whichever was the child’s local wood). One child in every hundred was supposed to be able to hear the Black Dog growl as it snatched the stone, before bounding through the tangle-wood to where its master, the one-eyed man, lay sleeping below a pile of stones.
    Daniel enjoyed this ritual, although his first attempt to throw the rock almost knocked Martin unconscious, the shot, from the blind boy, being almost completely in the wrong direction. When the stone finally struck the trees Daniel clapped and laughed but a second later he screamed and turned away from some sound that only he could hear, holding his hands to his ears. He ran back to the path, and towards the farm. Martin chased after him, caught him and hugged him reassuringly.
    ‘What is it? What is it?’
    ‘Monster …’ the boy whispered, shaking. ‘Heard monster … Black Dog … crunching bone …’
    ‘It’s only a story,’ Martin assured him, wrapping arms around the trembling lad. ‘Nothing’s going to hurt you. It’s just a bit of fun.’
    ‘I know! I know!’ Daniel crowed triumphantly. ‘Joke! Joke!’
    And he squirmed away from his father, giggling and screeching, stumbling over a rock as he celebrated his trickery.
    Martin chased after him, wrestling him to the ground. ‘Why you little … you little
monster!
… I’ll teach you to pretend that there’s
monsters
in them there
woods
…’
    The boy laughed hysterically as his father’s fingers engaged with ribs and soft belly, tickling powerfully through the heavy winter clothing.
    Then suddenly Daniel glanced away. ‘Look at Mummy.’
    Martin followed the glance. Rebecca was standing facing Broceliande, a hunched figure, arms tight around her chest.
    ‘Something wrong. Mummy shadow wrong,’ Daniel whispered.
    Martin sat up, holding the boy. ‘What’s up, Beck?’ he said to himself, disturbed by the dark figure, the motionless, living statue of the woman, everything about her suggesting that she was in distress.
    And then he looked at Daniel, at the way the boy was staring at the distant figure. He moved an open palm across Daniel’s gaze but the eyes never flickered, the pupils remained fully dilated as usual.
    ‘What’s Mummy doing?’ he asked cautiously.
    ‘Listening. Big dog,’ Daniel replied.
    ‘Can you see her?’
    ‘I hear shadow,’ came the quiet reply. ‘Mummy shadow. Mummy shadow frightened.’
    Leading Daniel by the hand, Martin went over to Rebecca, and put his arms around her, kissing herquickly on her cold, right ear. ‘What’s up with Mummy shadow?’ he whispered. ‘What’s upset you?’
    ‘Mummy shadow?’
    ‘Daniel’s words. I think he feels the fact that you’re upset. What’s upset you?’
    ‘For a second it was like being a kid again, seeing the ghosts. I thought I saw the Black Dog. Seriously, it seemed to hover in the woodland edge, up on its hind legs, watching me, like one of those bloody great big dogs from Grimm. Or was it Hans Andersen?’
    ‘The soldier? The tinder box? That story?’
    ‘That one. Yes. Each dog was bigger than the last, and had bigger eyes, like saucers. I saw the biggest. And it was so real. But it was so shadowy, everything is so shadowy … maybe I need a stronger prescription.’
    She took off her silver-framed spectacles and peered at them. ‘My sight’s really going. I find it so hard to read these days.’
    ‘Then it’s the opticians for you, my girl,’ Martin said with mock severity. ‘As soon as they open after Christmas.’
    He looked at the wood, frowning. ‘But maybe you really saw what you saw.’
    ‘New lakes, wolf-girls and wailing men. Why not Black Dogs?’ Rebecca smiled and reached for Martin’s hand. ‘There’s something changing in the forest …’
    Daniel was tugging at his jacket, staring up at his father.
    ‘Dog’s gone, now,’ he said.
    *
    It hadn’t snowed at Christmas for years and Daniel was disappointed,