Beneath the heavy canopy of the autumn forest, it was dark and bitterly cold. Kaeya tucked her small hands into the chilly sleeves of her linen shirt, bringing them to her face every few moments to warm them with her breath.

  Had her mother seen her now, she would surely have scolded her for such an improper appearance in this weather—or, more likely, for running off into the woods at dusk without permission. But Kaeya’s mother rested beneath a fresh burial mound, and her father had enough worries with the younger children, so the girl was left to her own devices.

  Pushing deeper and deeper into the thicket out of sheer stubbornness, Kaeya felt despair creeping in, the thought gnawing at her that this escapade would change nothing. Tears welled up in her eyes—now she had to wipe her face with her sleeves.

  Struggling her way out of a tangle of blackberry bushes, she stepped into a tiny clearing where a single colossal tree stood, surrounded by yellowing maples. Its branches were dark and smooth, and its leaves remained a fresh, springlike shade of green and gold.

  At its roots, nestled among the withered grass, sat a little girl, almost Kaeya’s age, weaving something from pale threads.

  Kaeya was so delighted to see another child that she never stopped to wonder why she had never seen this girl in the village before. She simply ran up to her and froze, caught off guard by the deep emerald gaze that met her own.

  - I... I got lost! - Kaeya admitted at once, suddenly losing her composure and bursting into tears.

  - The village is that way, - the girl said without a hint of doubt, pointing south.

  Kaeya looked in the direction she indicated but made no move to head home.

  - And you? Why are you here? - she asked the fair-haired child.

  - I'm waiting for someone to make a wish,- the girl sighed, sounding dejected.

  - But why?..- Kaeya asked, so surprised that she forgot to cry.

  The lost girl’s question puzzled Huld for a moment—for, in truth, she had no real reason to grant anyone’s wishes. And according to her mentor, the Norn, human happiness was not the concern of the weavers of fate. But Huld was no longer a weaver… A flicker of uncertainty settled in the young deity’s heart.

  - Because, - Huld finally answered hesitantly, - making people happy is something I can do…

  She quickly changed the subject, unwilling to dwell on the meaning of her existence.

  - So, what do you wish for?

  Kaeya had first thought of a warm cloak, but the thought of it inevitably brought her back to memories of her mother, and silent tears once again streamed down the child's cheeks.

  - I want mommy to come back, - she sobbed, - to take care of me,.. like before...

  Huld looked at the child somewhat distantly, almost indifferently – it seemed that the deity was clearly not in the best of moods. And, most likely, that was true. Huld’s last good-hearted endeavor, granting wishes in the marketplace, had ended terribly, and the young god had begun to doubt both their methods and the very idea itself.

  - And is this truly your most cherished wish? - Huld asked again.

  - “Cherished”? - the child didn’t understand.

  - The most important, the biggest, the main one,.. - the sorrowful deity clarified.

  - Well, yes, - Kaeya admitted, growing just as sad as her companion.

  - Then hurry home, - Huld advised, - she will be back soon, too.

  - Really, really? - the naive child immediately believed.

  - Uh-huh, - the stranger nodded, finishing braiding her string.

  Kaeya hurried home, pushing her way straight through the dense bushes, paying no mind to how her shirt caught and tore in her haste. She emerged from the forest so quickly that she even outran the setting sun and had no reason to fear scolding for being late—perhaps only for her disheveled appearance.

  The girl practically burst into the house, the creaky door slamming loudly against the frame, waking her younger brothers. Her blue eyes, shining with hope, swept across the room, but her mother was nowhere to be seen. Nor was her father—only the frightened, drowsy children squirming in a heap of sheepskins.

  Kaeya quieted down, grew somber, even felt bitter at the cruel joke of her new friend, but she did not cry, for first, she had to soothe the whimpering little ones. After all, now she was their mother.

  The usual chores made time pass unnoticed. By sunset, her father returned from the hunt. He carried a large, speckled pheasant and tossed it onto the floor by the fire. And once again, it was Kaeya who had to deal with the bird.

  The sun set, and darkness fell in an instant. The autumn mist, as always, drifted in from the river, wrapping the village houses in a soft, fluffy shroud. Only the crackling of logs in the fire disturbed the sleepy stillness after a satisfying supper.

  Then, there was a knock at the locked door—quiet, hesitant, like a faint rustling, so soft no one even noticed. And then again, louder, clearer.

  - Who’s there in the middle of the night? - the head of the family called out loudly, rising to his feet and gripping the axe handle.

  - Dahlia…- whispered from behind the door, like a gust of wind.

  - Let me in, Jorgen,- came a woman's voice.

  Another knock followed, for the man had not answered, and the pause stretched too long. Terror was written across Jorgen’s face as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, unable to move. And yet, every fiber of his being strained toward the door at the sound of the familiar voice of the departed.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  - Mommy! - Kaeya cried out joyfully and rushed to slide back the bolt.

  The door swung open before the man could stop his daughter.

  A tall, red-haired woman appeared on the threshold, dressed in a long white linen shirt and an ornate crimson sarafan. Her skin was paler than cloth, and her eyes and cheeks were sunken.

  The woman stepped inside and ran an icy hand over Kaeya’s red curls, completely ignoring her husband. The girl was overjoyed despite the cold touch—she grasped the woman’s hands and pressed against her with all her might.

  - Kaeya! - Jorgen called out, watching his wife warily.

  Dahlia turned her sunken, dark eyes to him, her stern gaze cutting off any thought of taking the child away from her. She glanced around the room and noticed the sleeping boys. Without hesitation, she moved toward them, pulling her daughter along.

  And so, Dahlia took up residence in her home once more.

  Cold and emotionless, she roamed the house at night, her predatory stares keeping Jorgen from closing his eyes. And during the day, she was sluggish, hiding in a dark corner as she cradled her boys in her arms.

  All this time, she neither slept, nor drank, nor ate. Her entire attention was devoted to her children, who, in their youth, found nothing frightening in the change that had overtaken her.

  But Jorgen was afraid. And he waited for the inevitable moment when he would have to return Dahlia to the grave with his own hands.

  Yet he delayed it, again and again—seeing the genuine care with which she watched over the children…

  ***

  Kaeya was immensely pleased with herself—she had managed to slip out of the house despite her father’s forbiddance and even sneak a bit of honey from the barrel. Now, she hurried through the forest, heading strictly north, carefully avoiding any chance encounters with the neighbors prowling through the undergrowth.

  She had begun to doubt whether she had chosen the right path when, suddenly, the bushes parted, revealing a small, snow-covered clearing with a massive tree standing at its center. Its crown was bare, but a few golden leaves still clung stubbornly to the highest branches.

  Kaeya glanced around, wanting to call out for her friend, only to realize - too late - that she had never even asked her name. Pouting in disappointment, she sat by the tree’s roots - perhaps to wait, or perhaps just to ponder whether she was even allowed to.

  A gust of wind blew, shaking the branches, and heavy clumps of packed snow tumbled down onto the girl. Instinctively, she looked up—and there, perched on a branch, sat the fair-haired girl.

  - You’re here! - Kaeya exclaimed happily, slightly surprised that she hadn’t noticed her friend from afar.

  - Well, yes, - the girl nodded cautiously.

  Her emerald eyes watched Kaeya warily, as if expecting some kind of trick.

  - And what’s your name, sister? - Kaeya asked, a little shyly.

  - Huld, - the girl exhaled.

  - Sister Huld, - Kaeya chirped, - I wanted to come thank you earlier, but ever since Mother came back home, Father won’t let us go outside…

  - Thank me? - Huld repeated in surprise, a careful smile flickering across her face.

  - Uh-huh, - Kaeya nodded eagerly.

  - Oh, look! - she lifted a small dish of honey above her head? - I brought you some sweets…

  Without a second's hesitation, Huld fluttered down from the branch and landed softly in the snow beside Kaeya. The sudden movement took Kaeya’s breath away, though mostly out of excitement.

  - Here, take it,- she said, pushing the small dish into Huld’s hands.

  But at that moment, distant, indistinct voices carried through the trees. Kaeya glanced toward the sound warily and shrank back.

  - Sorry, but I have to go home now,- she admitted to her friend.

  - If they see me, they’ll tell my father…

  Judging by the look on Huld’s face, she wasn’t happy about the unexpected visitors either. She stared into the wall of trees, listening intently to the approaching shouts.

  - What is it?.. - she exhaled softly.

  - Uncle Asgrim’s gone missing,- Kaeya explained, worried.

  - So the whole village is out looking for him…

  - The whole village? - Huld asked cautiously, glancing at Kaeya.

  - Uh-huh. I only managed to sneak out because my father left too…

  - Alright, I really have to go,- Kaeya said, throwing her arms around Huld in a quick hug.

  - Thank you so much! - she whispered into the god’s ear, then ran toward the trees.

  Suddenly uplifted, Huld watched Kaeya disappear into the trees for a few more moments. But then, the voices of the villagers searching for Asgrim pulled her back to the present.

  She hesitated for a split second, vividly recalling the fresh memory of the chaos at the market, where she had foolishly granted the crowd’s wishes. Shaking her head, she pushed the unpleasant image from her mind.

  Her gaze fell on Kaeya’s gift, and she silently decided that everything worked out as it should—so long as she listened to people one at a time.

  Not wanting to be seen, Huld leapt up onto the tree and darted barefoot along its branches, climbing higher and higher until she reached the very top. She grasped the last branch still holding onto its golden leaves and snapped it off with a sharp tug.

  A shadow rippled down the trunk from the treetop to the roots—the branches cracked like charred wood, crumbling into ash as they fell to the ground. Only the broken branch in Huld’s hand remained unchanged.

  She swung it through the air, tracing a circle around herself, and vanished before the support beneath her feet could disintegrate.

  ***

  Kaeya had been consumed by anxiety ever since her father left to search for Asgrim the day before and hadn’t returned. She had tried to share her worries with her mother, but Dalia wasn’t particularly expressive or talkative. She simply stroked the boys' hair while stirring the thick stew in the pot.

  Then, a commotion stirred outside the door. Kaeya let out a breath of relief, thinking her father had finally come home. But her relief was short-lived. As the door swung open, an entire crowd of furious villagers stood at the threshold. They, too, had been searching for Jorgen—but not out of concern for his safety. They had followed a trail of blood leading straight to his barn.

  The moment their eyes fell on Dalia, silence rippled through the crowd. The villagers stared at the dead woman in stunned silence, holding their breath, as if uncertain what to do next.

  - Draugr*! – exclaimed the village elder, finally managing to push through the crowd.

  And then everything around Kaeya blurred into chaos—some of the more faint-hearted villagers bolted out of the house, while others, mostly seasoned hunters, drew their weapons. The men closed in on Dalia like a pack of wolves, backing her into a corner as she clutched her small sons against her chest.

  - The head! Cut off the head! – the elder barked from behind the doorframe, careful not to step too close.

  One of the hunters lunged forward at once, following the order, but Dalia twisted away, slashing at him with long, razor-sharp claws. Blood gushed from his throat as he collapsed. In that moment, two more men threw themselves at her from behind, tackling her to the ground.

  The boys tumbled down with their mother and began wailing. The men ruthlessly shoved them aside like ragdolls, then, before the terrified children’s eyes, began hacking at their mother’s neck.

  It wasn’t an easy task—her body was unnaturally tough, and she felt no pain. The creature thrashed beneath the heavy blows, writhing and shrieking with rage. But only when her head was finally severed from her body did she fall still. Not a single drop of blood stained the floor.

  ***

  Night was approaching. Kaeya huddled with her brothers beneath a sheep’s pelt in a dark corner—their aunt, who had taken them in with great reluctance after their father’s death, disliked having the children in sight.

  The girl wept in secret, muffling her sobs so as not to wake the boys. In the village, people now watched them with wary, uneasy glances—children who had spent days under the same roof as a draugr.

  It had been the draugr who had torn their neighbor, Asgrim, to pieces. And then their father, Jorgen.

  Kaeya’s little brothers didn’t understand why the villagers were so angry with them. But she did. And worse—deep down, she was certain that it was all her fault. Yet shame and terror kept her from confessing the truth to anyone, making her sobs only more desperate.

  And then—a knock at the door.

  Soft. Hesitant. Like a whisper…