Once in a Winter Night

"I can't sleep,” the little girl answered, standing in front of me, completely undisturbed by the horns on my head or the lack of skin and muscles on my face. Her bright, blue eyes stared right into mine, her little head thrown backward to look at someone three times her height.

The night was frigid, cold even for the brumal nights of the Winter Forest. This was no place for someone so feeble and minuscule like the insignificant child who trembled before me, touched by the cold air that sang through the barren trees, her fingers already red by the bite of the air.

A howl somewhere in the distance made her jump and close the distance between us, clutching my leg for protection as she tried to search for the reason behind the noise in the deep dark that surrounded us, frightened not by me but by the possibility of that something else lurking somewhere we couldn’t see. She, of course, was correct, the sound we heard announced the werewolves that ran through the forest under the light of the perpetual full moon that bathed our grounds.

“Can you help me?” She asked, turning her attention back to me.

“Help you?” Incredulity laced my voice. A brief lapse in my composure was caused by the strangeness of her request, I couldn’t prevent the automatic turning of my head to the side as I thought about her words. Never had I received such a request from a human before, the pleading for their pathetic lives was a given, but for me to help them was new.

In turn, she nodded, seemingly lacking the understanding of the danger I posed to her kind as she still held onto me, completely unaware of the hunger that ate at my chest, making me ache with need as her scent tempted me.

“I saw pretty lights dancing outside of the camp when I couldn’t sleep and I followed them,” she admitted, rouge tainting her cheeks in shame.

Ah, that explains it, I thought. While we, the creatures of the Winter Forest could move freely between worlds, humans had lost that ability long ago. The will-o’-wisps were the only ones who could grant passage into our world, never allowed to be touched by humans—beings that belonged to the light outside the forest, not the burning blue flames of our winter—but always tempting enough for them to lure them into the dark. 

“Didn’t your elders never tell you not to follow the wisps of the forest?”

She nodded, avoiding my gaze not from a delated fear that now finally seized her but out of the possibility of receiving a scolding. The smell of her agitation was intertwined with sadness and guilt, a depressive scent that rendered her utterly unappetizing. Tired, hungry and cold, she lacked the adrenaline that made the spirit run hot through the human body. 

Salt water began flooding her eyes until they began pouring into the soil beneath her bare, muddy feet, splashing my hooves in the way. “I can’t find my parents,” her tiny voice trembled, breaking with the knot of sorrow in her throat. One of her hands went up to her face to rub the tears away as she began sobbing. “I just want to go home.” She whispered and I sighed.

The little girl cuddled into the warmth of my chest, completely unaffected by the fur of my chest or the claws that held her tighter the more we walked. Quickly, it became apparent she had no sense of direction, having wandered in the forest without guidance made finding her parents an absolute nightmare, I could only rely on my sense of smell in hopes of finding someone whose scent was reminiscent of hers. I scent that had become more and more bearable the longer we remained together.

Still, I—or rather, she was running out of time. The more time she spent in our world, the more she’d stop belonging to the day, our perpetual night would begin to claim her at some point, making her unable to leave us. Her scent was already beginning to be corrupted by the aromas of the Forest.

I sat down with my back against the frozen trunk of a tree that belonged to a time gone long ago. I looked down at her, she had fallen asleep after a feast of berries and apples, the only things I was sure she could eat without consequencesn; and now she stirred against my aching chest like I was her teddy bear. 

A slight warmth ran momentarily through the air around us but it was gone as fast as it came, not waiting for the cold to lift, only announcing the coming of another day in the little girl’s realm. Even when our world was always clouded in darkness, we could feel when daylight reached the humans. Another day had passed and the possibility of finding the little girl’s family was slipping through her tiny fingers.

She had cried at first when hours had gone by with no result. She had walked in silence by my side the second time I searched through the forest. She had asked me to carry her next, exhausted from the elements and the continuous wandering.

I had been hunting the night she found me, her sudden presence halting my steps. Days later, here I was, cradling in my arms what I had once considered nothing more than a slight inconvenience, resting against my chest like my very own offspring. 

I rose again, the earlier I got rid of her, the faster I could go back to my old self… roaming the woods alone, searching for food…

I wondered if maybe all this time I had been feeding from her should, the ache in my chest growing smaller by the day. I looked back at her as she moved again but she continued her peaceful sleep, maybe even lulled by the movement of my frame as my hooves dragged through the cold soil of the forest

Gone were the days when travelers and thieves would wander daily into our realm, fueled by fear, superstition or stupidity, allowing us to feast on their souls and leaving only the empty husks of their bodies to be devoured by the all-consuming soil beneath us, rotting their flesh until only minuscule pieces of there bones remained.

Modern times had brought with them the lack of fear humans used to have for my kind, without their fear they’d become immune to us, to the damage we could do, to the danger we once posed to them.

Now, only once in a while did some drunkard would stumble into our claws. Only then, when stupid with alcohol did the inhibitions caused by reason and technology left to unveil the natural fear they once had toward us, the creatures of the unknown, the magic of the Forest’s spirits, the monsters of the night.

Suddenly, from the distance came the scent of suffering and adrenaline that hit my nostrils with promising satiation, making me turn in the direction of a bunch of burning torches grouped in the distance. No, I thought, they were not torches, not anymore, they were… lights… flashlights!

For centuries after men discovered fire, they had kept themselves warm and protected by their flame, but now, the yellow light of the crackling fire had been replaced by the cold hue of what they now called electricity. A more powerful torch that killed the night in favor of artificial daylight, allowing humankind to evolve while only starving us and condemning us to smaller and smaller lands.

A second wave of their anguish hit my snout, the all-consuming famish burned in my stomach. The group was too large for me, maybe once long ago, when I was in my prime and not starved by the lack of superstition of men, maybe then I’d been able to take the 50 men and women on my own. Now, though, I was sure I wouldn’t have any effect on them, even when some of them were filled with fear, they felt strong and safe in a pack. I’d become invisible to them. Inexistent.

The little girl moved in my arms and I looked down to see a minuscule will-o’-wisp resting on her nose for a brief second, summoning from her slumber. She rubbed her eyes as she woke up, maybe the commotion of the group had awoken her. She looked full of curiosity towards the light, the sad demeanor that had lately consumed the excitement she’d once held in hopes of discovering the new world of the darkened forest was suddenly lifted, and it seemed she recognized someone in the crowd.

“Mama!” She exclaimed excitedly, fuzzing in my arms until I let her down onto the ground. She ran like kids used to speed after the first snowfall of the year, eager to play. She smiled with a brightness that clashed with the shadows of our forest, making it clear she wasn’t born here. She reached for her mother craving to feel her warmth after the freezing air of our world. 

A trace of muddy water appeared down her reddened cheeks as tears began pouring from her desperate eyes and mixing with the dirt on he skin. She tried and fail to grab her mother’s coat, her fingers passing through the heavy wool as if it was air, her loud screams heard only by me until her throat was raw and no more sound came out. 

In turn, I stood behind, watching her from a distance, slow and cautious steps closing the distance between us. 

It had been clear to me moments before when the will-o’-wisp tickled her nose. Now, as I saw her approach her mother and pull at her clothes, unable to catch her attention, I saw she’d become invisible to them as well.