Winter Sun Eyes (Translation Project)

The one to be feared

"Oh, for chrissake! Darn and damn it", Marja shouted and stamped her foot on the ground, which then gave way as if it had been frightened. "Why didn't I see the stupid boat was drifting off? What was I up all night for?"

" I would be interested in that, too," Bastian muttered and finally threw the stick away. Ashamed, Marja lowered her head. Unfortunately, it was her fault, and she knew it. Luckily, Bastian had to struggle with not letting himself be distracted from the beauty of this creature, which stood in front of him and stared at him with white-blue eyes.

This one twisted it's pale, albeit full lips into a gloating smile. "Well, welcome. Welcome to the Green Island," it said, sizzling like a snake - like a loud whisper.

Framed by the black strands that fell out of the high bound hair, the face looked even paler than it already was and Marja wondered whether there was a lighter colour than white at all. Her teacher (who was responsible for art as well as every other school subject) would now have looked at her angrily, as always when one of his otherwise highly gifted students described white as "color". Highly gifted, Marja thought and managed not to grin at her own irony in this difficult situation. It wasn't really funny anyway. And everyone would pick on her when she was joking.

The horse would probably have liked to ask whether it finally starts now, because it danced as if it could not wait much longer to raze these two useless human figures to the ground.

Bastian's face had darkened in stark contrast to the perfect pallor of the Death Servant's face, as if someone had robbed even the last dull light of the night. Every single wrinkle on his sun and wind shaped skin cast a shadow that seemed to bury it even deeper as he lowered his head almost imperceptibly.

A harsh shiver went down Marja's spine and once again she became aware of the cold that surrounded her. Winterly, deadly, bitterly cold.

"Why? What's so bad about Ireland? It's... it is..." She would have loved to continue talking, but she was too busy preventing her jaw from trembling too much with her teeth compressed, as well as controlling her already very weak voice.

Bastian didn't look at her. He withstood the fearsome gaze of this horrible creature and finished Marja's sentence: "Dark. Awful. Dangerous. Even if it wants to disguise that with its beautiful nature."

"The beggar hit the nail on the head," rejoiced the woman and her powerful, croaking voice, like that of an old woman, only now really came into force, after it had previously been hidden behind hissing sounds. Marja flinched. This voice did not fit at all to her outward appearance.

She glanced over to Marja for a moment and when her eyes fixed her for the first time, as if they wanted to burn a hole through her, Marja froze for a moment. This horrible moment seemed to extend like nothing else would do, although this cold woman did not even look at her for a second.

"Yes, just look at me with such horror, little girl. You have every reason," she croaked maliciously. "Though you probably still think you'll run into nothing but lovely fairy princesses riding unicorns."

Marja tried to disagree, but she couldn't. She was not even able to shake her head slightly, although the woman no longer looked directly at her, but stared at Bastian again.

But instead of bravely standing up, he now looked expectantly at Marja, who would have loved to sink into the pitch-black ground by now. Did your impertinence leave you? he seemed to want to ask, even if it was probably just a more provocative phrase for: Help me!.

But all Marja could do was try to make a cheerful smile, even if she ended up with a worried grimace.

The horse with its eyes blazing with hatred had given up its prejoyful dancing and stared into the darkness. His rider released a pale hand, which looked like that of a emaciated child, from the reins and stroked along his instep like a gentle breeze.