Chapter One

The valley was gripped in the fierce claws of frost for the past six months. The chills were enough to bite and even take off an arm provided they got inside the body first. She looked around for a while, her heart-shaped face turning and watching the snow-covered village, its wooden huts deeply buried. Had it not been for the red flags, marking the way, the village was a lost sight the moment one left its premises. Trying to breathe deeply, she let the deep chill settle in her lungs, coughing the next moment. Forcing herself to relax, she glanced at the line of straight white birches, forming the boundary of the woods she was about to enter.

Her obsidian eyes were fixated on that deer’s corpse, the pale red settling into the white resembling the same shade as her cloak. A wolf had come this way…ventured too near the village it seemed. They had been quite bold for the past couple of days…especially since the last full moon…could the legends be true? No! She wouldn’t let ominous thoughts plague her mind…not when there was a daring journey to undertake. She wrapped herself tightly in her cloak, closing the gap from where a chill penetrated. The long-braided hair was settled behind her back, some of the dark curls making their way out of her hood.

Letting herself afford the luxury of another relaxed breath, she finally prepared herself, ready to embark. It was just an errand…a simple errand through the forest where the spirits were told to be at great unrest and deeper you went, the more it became clear that there indeed was an ethereal pair of eyes watching your every step. Not a simple errand perhaps…

Finally, her hide boots started moving, leaving impressionable prints in the snow. It was before noon. And she could come back on the right time. Waving the scarlet cloth that shielded her pale vermillion tunic, she finally set off, crossing the boundary.

The birch was only on the edges…like the sentinels of the forest. Deep inside, there were the maple trees and the clearings she had grown up playing in. These woods used to be safer…especially when the spring came. But recently, the fear had settled in…out of nowhere. Stories around the bonfire and old midwives' tales settled on the discussion of wolves. Those wild beasts had been growing wilder, and perhaps there was something dark involved. She had even heard a rumormonger stating that he had seen a white wolf, staring at the village as if it was spying for something…or someone. Possibly spirits were involved in whatever madness was involved in

She was quite bold though, still going into these woods with Neyru, his blue eyes and the burly figure appearing no less than perfection. Every time he walked towards her his golden flocks hurled in the wind. His family had settled six months ago, rumored to be from one of the Viking clans. Despite what the village women told her and despite Neyru’s father being the least favored man in the village, she still couldn’t distance herself from him. Was it because there was an aura of mystery around him that drew her in? Or was it because despite many lasses trying their best to trap him in, he had chosen her…and only her. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let him go. Not even when her gran told that all good men had died with her beloved husband…not even when all the girls in village gossiped…never!

The moment her boots stumbled, her head jerking as she balanced herself, stopping the painful fall she was about to have. Her face would have hit the snow. She remembered this pathway, seeing the daffodils and daisies sprouting in her mind, the scene now turned into a manifestation of the great terrible winter as they laid buried under layers of snow. Just across the frozen lake where she would still find holes from where her father fished last week. They were still feeding on the hoard of fish they had hunted from here. Hopefully, it will last another day or two before she would come here again with her pa. Across that meandering pathway beside the lake, she would find that small cabin…the residing place of her gran. The woman who had found solace in alienating herself from the village. Not that she wasn’t motivated. The villagers called her the cursed lady…the whisperer of curses and spells…and her gran was a staunch woman. Grandmother had her mother’s stubbornness, now passed on to her. And the old lady would rather abandon the village instead of compromising on her practices…the odd dances and the meditations under the full moon that had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

Finally, she carefully walked on those beaten pathways, noticing the white settling on the dark green around. The maple trees had started now…and right on the edge of what formed the deeper woods, there would be the cottage…and a sight of an old woman chopping wood.

Except there wasn’t one…even when she crossed the frozen body of water and started treading on the ground bearing the thickets, buried under heaps of white blanket. There it stood…the piles of lumber put together and forming that stout cabin that had withstood the passing of seven winters…

The sound of wind blowing against her cloak flapped into her ears, the gust carrying snowflakes, some of her getting into her eyes. She shielded herself by her arms, the next moment rubbing her eyes. Sound of wind…across the cabin that stood at the edge of the line of frozen maple woods. That was all that greeted her…and when it settled, the sound of her breath filled in the prevailing silence.

“Grandma!” she yelled, wanting to hear the chop of a wooden block into two, as the axe cleaved its way through, meeting the tree stump with a thud. No response came…other than her voice echoing back.

Her eyes met with the thin outline. It would have escaped her sight had she not been paying attention. There…in front of the cabin…a thin scarlet line…a recent glowing trail of blood…

Her heart transitioned from skipping the beats to wildly galloping in her chest. There was trouble ahead…her imagination ran wild, the anxiety acting up. Grandma!

With every step, her heart beat faster than before. She had no time to decide whether she would run back to her village, fill the air with her cries for help, or she would have to rush straight to her supposedly injured grandmother. There couldn’t be a third option. There shouldn’t be!

Her raven braid flew behind, her palms colliding with the cabin’s sturdy wall as she collapsed nearly on it. Running in the snow had taken its toll on her. Forgetting to breathe properly, she made her way towards the entrance, the heart dripping in grief. Grandmother! The sweet old lady that snuck in pies right before bed. She had the darkest of eyes that had been inherited by her late mother and now her…and she was the only sign left of her mother’s compassion…grandma!

Her eyes felt cold the moment her tears left them, her figure slamming at the entrance door. She fell on the floor, looking for what she dreaded most. The scent of blood was recent, the trail of warm blood leading in front of the wood that crackled in the fireplace. There…she could see the dark fur and the cleaved head of a wolf.