Be alert. Stay cautious. Heed the warnings we tell. Tales, stories, myths of the Birchwood hag. It lures children to the edges of the forest with its mesmerizing melodies. Their cries echoing through the birch mimicking the wails of prey. They leave only shoes behind scattered across the limbs of trees. Decorations or a warning to its next victims.
Be alert. Stay cautious. Heed the warnings we tell. The words echo through my head as I look for my young.
I sit alone, the flame of my campfire illuminating a few yards into the night. Not a single beast big or small has dared to utter a sound thus far, but I hear him. My son shrieks the sound deafening. He calls for me. I quickly chase the shrill sound deeper into the forest. Stumbling blindly through the darkness.
Run. Run. The cries of my young seem to get farther and farther the more I move towards that sound. A sickly sweet smell of sugar enters nostrils. Shadowy figures loom over me behind each Birch I pass. They tower over me. They peer at.. no through me, chilling me to my core. I stop in my tracks. I cry out for my son. Nothing. I am only met with silence. I turn, my camp nowhere to be seen. I am lost. The smell of sweets tickles my nose once again as my eyes search for anything other than the trees around me. I see them. on the outstretched arms of the birch. shoes. Children's shoes. The silence is broken with but a whisper to my left ear.
" welcome".
Be alert. Stay cautious. Heed the warnings we tell. Tales, stories, myths of the Birchwood hag."
