A Nymph of the Ossian Forest

The Redemption

After I parted with Christa, I spent my time helping villagers with the preparations, until the bright light of day gave way to the purple sky of sunset, and then to the soft darkness of false dawn.

When dusk arrived, the village lit up with soft, heart-warming lights of oil lanterns. The excitement and expectation were so tangible in the air I felt it climbing under my skin, filling me from inside. I could see it in people's faces, in decorations, in every window and even in the glowing band of stars that started to appear in the sky, another star added to it every minute. For a moment, I stopped in my tracks, leaned on the fence and closed my eyes, trying to embrace this truly magical atmosphere. And yet, I was bothered by the feeling that it wasn't mine to enjoy. I didn't belong here. I could feel anxiety crawling out of the depths of my soul. It was the village's greatest celebration, I told myself, a happy and carefree day for everyone. A feast that would continue the next day and the day after tomorrow, when no one would even have to work! I knew I should be happy at least because of that, and I couldn't find a reasonable answer to the question what on the earth could go wrong. But then why was I so restless?

I shook my head to get rid of the obsessive thoughts and joined the flow of people to finally go and see the main venue for tonight's celebrations.

I couldn't hold a sigh of amazement to the view that opened in front of my eyes. The main village square had changed magnificently since the morning: everything around was decorated with flowers and lights; giant tables stretched out for the villagers to feast all night long. Tens of big barrels of ale, beer, and wine were rolled out of the village cellars. Now they were standing in neat rows, waiting for the Elder to open the first one with his own hands, giving the sign for everyone to start to eat and drink. This was the part of the ancient tradition.

The women were now filling the platters on the table with best dishes of all kind that made your mouth water with a single sight. The Ossian Village was famous for its recipes. My mother was especially good at making desserts – that was the craft no one could outdo her at. I looked around the square to see if she was somewhere out there, guiding the process, but she was nowhere in sight. She must be in some kitchen right now, I thought, or perhaps by my father's side. She was the best at cheering him up and helping him get ready for the important events.

The most beautiful thing was the bright violet and green tent of the Elder, my father, with seats for the twelve most respected villagers. Every year he announced the start of the celebrations from this platform. The strange feeling of agitation didn't cease inside my chest, growing with every step I took.

My gaze rested on the men who were setting up the great arc in front of the village gates – every young man and woman who took part in the traditional hide-and-seek were going to pass through it. I observed the heavy construction being lifted up from the ground. It took me a beat to realize that one of the men raising it was Kyle, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing his arms, always covered up in black dirt.

I hoped he was too occupied with his work to notice me, but I didn't have enough time to slip away into the crowd. His eyes rested on me, anxious expression on his face... I knew he would have approached me straight away, but luckily, he was holding one of the ropes that didn't let the arc fall. One of the men called out for Kyle to pay attention, making him turn around, and that was the moment I used to disappear out of his sight. Talking to him again was more than I could handle right now.

I stopped right in my tracks when I heard the loud sound of horn coming from above the gates. Like every other villager, I knew very well what this sound meant. When it sounded once, it was time for everyone to go home and put on their best clothes. When it sounded twice, you should already be fully prepared. When the horn sounded thrice, every single villager should show up on the square for the celebration. That was the tradition.