Which way is north?

The rising moon, enormous
With a manic tangerine grin
Chases us across a barren field
Of coal dust and copper pebbles.
Ghost deer flit at the edge of vision
As ragged scars open under our feet
And a clockwork wolf howls.
Around us, the trees shimmer
My eyes burn.
An insistent tugging at my scalp
Pulls the salt from my eyes
To coat the concrete pillars below
As I stagger across iron rails
Over seductive chasms
Deceptively wide and treacherously deep.
Shadowed eyes peer suspiciously upward
As he crouches beneath my dusty toes
In the shadows of the glaring mercury floodlights
That create dizzying patterns of sharp contrast
Deepest ebony against the sheen of tempered steel.
The moon rises, cackling
Footsteps quicken and breaths catch.
A nervous laugh
And a hurried backward glance.