West Hills. Why did it have to be West Hills?

Heather trudged down the dirt and gravel path that led out of the main section of Ellowwood. A twenty-pound bag of wheat was in her arms, having been tasked to deliver it to an elderly couple out on the west side of town.

And not just west town, West Hills. Outside the town charter, maybe half a mile towards the heavy forest and where the island ended. Where more weird stuff lived, causing her imagination to freak out about what she could randomly encounter. It didn’t matter if it was late afternoon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; the area still carried the same kind of connotations to it.