Allure Of The Witch

A Stranger In The Woods

Sunlight filtered gently through the branches of the trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. The warmth of the sun was a welcome respite from the cold winds that swept through Ulrik.

Aria closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the light. It felt like an eternity since she had last seen the sun.

This winter had been particularly harsh, forcing her to stay confined in her hut for most of the season. The snow had piled up high, blanketing the ground and creating an icy world that was beautiful yet unforgiving.

"Kuhuuu!"

Aria's face brightened as a small bird flitted down from a branch and landed on her shoulder. She smiled at the creature.

"Era niya royema renin lan su wuya sa bhe." (Let's find something for you to eat as well.)

Her voice was soft and gentle.

With that, she resumed her walk, the bamboo basket at her side clinking softly with every step. She had come out to collect firewood, enough to keep her warm and cook her meals over the next few days. Winter meant that the vegetables she had stored wouldn't spoil, but she still needed to prepare them.

Aria remembered her grandmother's strict warnings about the dangers of venturing outside daily. Back then, she only had to brave the hills twice a month for supplies. But since her grandmother's passing three months ago, everything had changed. Now, she faced the challenges of survival alone.

The memory of her grandmother hit her like a cold wave, and she blinked back tears. Aria had never truly experienced solitude until now. The absence of her grandmother's comforting presence felt like a gaping void in her heart. At night, the silence often turned oppressive, and she would curl up in her bed, stifling her sobs, wishing for the warmth of companionship.

"Kuhuuuuuu!"

The little bird on her shoulder chirped loudly, as if sensing her melancholy. It took flight, circling her in joyous loops, and Aria couldn't help but chuckle at its antics. For a brief moment, she was able to push aside her sadness.

"Lu Kanta Nemi Pur Urusa Noni Yukl Ro Pur Bhe." (Yes, we can't stay sad; otherwise, grandma will be sad too.)

The bird tweeted again, as if it agreed with her sentiment.

Determined to focus on the task at hand, Aria found some seeds to feed her feathered friend. As it pecked eagerly at the food, she took her axe from the basket and made her way toward a sturdy tree. But just as she stepped forward, her foot slipped on an uneven patch of ground, and she stumbled.

"Ah!" she gasped, reaching out instinctively.

Her finger pointed toward a nearby tree, and in that moment, a vine uncoiled itself from the trunk, wrapping around her wrist and feet, stabilizing her.

After a brief moment of panic, Aria regained her balance. She sighed in relief, shaking her hand free of the vine, which recoiled back to its resting position.

Frowning, she glanced down at the ground, covered in a layer of leaves and branches. She had expected the hill to be uneven, but something about this patch felt different, almost sinister. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as she bent down to clear away the debris.

As she moved the leaves aside, her breath caught in her throat. A glint of metal caught her eye, and as she uncovered it further, the sight of blood sent chills down her spine. The sharp edge was caked in dark, congealed blood, and panic surged within her. Blood had always unnerved her, but the realization that someone might be injured nearby ignited a flicker of urgency.

This person—whoever they were—might be in terrible pain. The thought made her heart ache. It was a cold night, and if they had been left here, hidden under layers of leaves and branches, it was likely they had suffered for a long time.

At first, Aria had assumed she was uncovering an animal. But as she continued, her heart raced. The shape was unmistakably human. It had been ages since she had seen another person. In truth, the only human she had ever known was her grandmother.

The idea that there were others out there, perhaps living nearby, had always intrigued her. But her grandmother had discouraged such thoughts.

"Both of us are enough for each other, Aria," she would say, a gentle smile on her face.

Aria had never doubted her grandmother's love, but in the depths of her loneliness, she often longed for more—someone to share her thoughts with, someone to listen to her dreams and fears.

Now, as she dug deeper, an inexplicable eagerness surged through her. Her movements quickened, driven by an instinct she couldn't quite articulate. Finally, she pulled away the last layer of leaves, and her breath caught in her throat.

Before her lay a young man, his features striking even in this dire state. A sharp chin and slender nose, coupled with lips that had turned dry and cracked, gave him an almost ethereal beauty. Aria stared in disbelief, her heart racing as she took in the sight.

Then, reality struck her with a harsh reminder. 

He was injured. Her eyes widened in horror as she noticed the jagged metal protruding from his chest, soaking through his clothing with blood. Mud caked around the wound, but the injury was clearly serious.

Disappointment and dread washed over her.

Could she possibly save him?