My life started out well enough. I had loving parents and a sweet little sister. Life was never easy but it was fulfilling. I received lots of love from my parents and adoration from my sister.
When I grew up, I met a dependable man, got married, and gave birth to three beautiful children. Everything in my life was going perfectly.
Until that unfortunate day.
My sister and her husband went into the woods to collect firewood for the winter, and they never returned.When the search party found the site in the evening, the tragedy had already occured. I can still see the bloodstains on the abandoned cart, the crimson smeared against the tree bark, and the dark pooling on the frozen ground.We didn't even manage to find enough of them to bury.
Back then, I wanted nothing more than to curl up, cry, and curse the world. But I stayed strong. I had to stay strong for four-year-old William—the only person who lost more than I did that day. I could still remember him endlessly asking where his mama and papa were, keeping his tiny eyes open and staying awake the entire night, waiting for a knock on the door that would never come.
But he got better. He had always been a smart and thoughtful kid, but after that, he became far too thoughtful—more than any child ever should be. I saw him feeling guilty for burdening us. I didn't know how he could ever think that way; he wasn't a burden at all, he was the last remaining piece of my sister.
As the drought came, his guilt only grew heavier. Then, one day, he suddenly told me he wanted to go into the forest. My heart completely sank, and those horrific memories rushed straight back to my mind. I stopped him at first, but I finally relented and allowed him to go—but only to the absolute outskirts.
Then, a few hours later, a miracle happened. The rain came, and the cruel drought finally ended.
When William came home that day, he talked about some old man he had met in the woods who summoned the rain just to pay for a tuber. It sounded far-fetched—like a children's fairy tale, or something even more absurd. I didn't believe a word of it, but I could see that something had changed within him. William became much more curious, constantly asking everyone questions.
Then, he came to ask me for permission to go to the city with John. I didn't want him going somewhere so far away without his family; he was still just a six-year-old boy, no matter how smart he carried himself. But on Rob's advice, and thinking that the trip might finally sway him away from his wild thoughts about magic, I relented. After coming back from the city, William was incredibly excited to share his experiences, but beneath all that energy, I could sense a deep unease within him.
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The next three years passed quite peacefully. My kids grew up to become a bit more responsible, and William's annual visits to the city with John became a regular occurrence to me. I still didn't like those trips very much, but John proved himself to be dependable time and time again.
Then, another disaster struck our village. This time, it did not come from nature, but from other people—the Baron passed a decree for the forced relocation of all the villages surrounding the Elderwood. I was absolutely furious with them. Who were they to tell us to leave? Where were they when we nearly died from the cruel drought? But I was powerless. It had always been like this for people of our station, our entire lives swinging on the thoughtless whims of nobles.
Nobody in the family took the news of the relocation well. Rob was losing sleep, constantly worrying about our future. Matt was angry at the world, Craig became completely silent, and William looked utterly lost, while my poor Emma didn't even know how to process what was happening. Then, Rob told me to let William go with John to the city one last time. Since John was moving away permanently, Rob argued that this might be their last trip together. I agreed, simply because I knew how much warmth and affection existed between William and John.
While they were away, Rob talked with his brother about opening a trading caravan to distribute goods from the villages west of the city to nearby towns. I was deeply hesitant about the whole idea, but Rob reassured me that due to the sudden relocation of all the villages around the Elderwood, we had a good chance of success. He promised me that even if we were to fail, we would still have enough money left to settle down somewhere else.
Then, William came back from the city a full day earlier than he was supposed to. By the look on his face, I could instantly tell he was hiding something from me. When I questioned him about it, he got terribly scared and blurted out that he was hungry. I could see he was desperately trying to divert my attention from the subject, but I didn't bother to confront him right then. I just told him we would talk in the morning.
The next morning, Rob explained his grand caravan plans to the kids over breakfast. I kept quiet and calmly finished my food, though I still didn't completely agree with his gamble.
When the meal ended, I stood up and went to pick up the empty earthen plates. That was when William chose to announce his plans. He told us he had met someone in the city, that he had been offered a job, and that he intended to accept it.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Before I could even process what he was saying, my fingers went entirely numb. The horrific images of the blood-stained cart in the woods flashed violently behind my eyes—the memory of losing my sister, of the forest swallowing my family. My hands failed me. The plates slipped from my grasp, crashing violently against the floor and shattering into pieces as a sharp, terrified gasp tore from my throat.