Title: Whispers
CW: vivid descriptions of wounds, violence, death
I gaze at the red forest, curiosity growing. Whispers have spoken about the monster that slaughtered people and ate their little girls. About the creature that lurked in the shadows, ready to hunt you until your head ends up on her wall. Those whispers call her the Huntress, a woman of pure darkness, willing to kill anyone that crosses her path.
Those whispers beg me not to go into the woods, but my curiosity screams at me, pleading louder than the wisps of voices. I grab a kitchen knife during dinner, sneaking it into the waistband of my skirt. When the lights go out, I open my window, careful not to wake the girls in the room with me. I grab a flashlight from my nightstand, sucking in a breath. I slide out of the window, gently shutting it behind me.
I leave the orphanage, heading towards the dark forest, the creatures inside calling out to me. I pull my jacket closer, the cold night bitter. I tug my hood over my head as it starts to rain. I step into the woods, flicking my light on. I aim it everywhere, hand gripping my knife. My heart pounds, but my curiosity overwhelms any fear I have.
I hear a hum, a soft, alluring lullaby. I approach the humming, the song growing louder and louder the closer I get. I peer around a tree, stifling a gasp as I lock eyes with a tall woman. She plucks her axe out of a deer's head, gazing at me.
I want to move, but I can't, frozen in fear. I stare up at her as she approaches, almost cautiously. My heart skips a beat as she reaches for me. I squeeze my eyes shut, face hot. This is it, this is where I die.
But she takes my hand, smiling at me. I try to slide my hand out of hers, but her grip is strong, yet still gentle. I reach for my knife, terrified. She catches my movement and grabs my wrist, taking the knife away. She releases my hands, instead grasping my waist and hoisting me into her shoulder.
She slides her axe into the holsters on her belt. She picks up the deer, holding it in her arms, her hand still securing me to her shoulder. I try screaming, but we're so deep in the forest, my voice would never be heard. She strolls to a cabin, still humming that soft song of hers. When we get inside, she sets me down on a sofa. She bends down to relight the dying fire in the fireplace. I stand up and dash for the door, but she runs over and plucks me away, shaking her head.
She puts me back on the couch, grabbing a restraint. I struggle as she binds my hands, tying me to a wooden post. I yell and thrash, crying out. She pats my hair, humming softly. She cuts up the deer, cooking it over the flame. I fear that I'm next, that her axe is going to end up in my chest.
She smiles at me, reaching for a white rabbit mask. Her brown eyes glint with warmth just before she slides the mask on. I press my back against the wall, petrified. She sits beside me, hand stroking my hair. I try to move away, but she holds the restraints, forcing me to stay close.
She says something quietly, her accent heavier than mine. It is all right, I won't hurt you. She speaks in Russian, the words soft. I relax, still wary. She smiles at me, leaving. She heads upstairs for the night, I don't see her again until morning. My stomach growls, reminding me of my hunger. I hold my stomach, looking up at the woman.
"I need food.." I utter in English, but she tilts her head. I understand Russian, but I don't know how to speak it properly. So instead, I pat my stomach, frowning.
"Breakfast?" She asks, still in Russian.
I nod. She grabs something from the fire, a chunk of meat, I realize. She hands it to me, watching as I take it. I bite into it, looking down. She steps back and reaches into a chest, pulling out a few toys. My eyes catch the familiar stuffed bear with a pink bow tie. That teddy belonged to one of my orphanage friends.
She hands me a cluster of toys but I grip the bear. "You killed them, didn't you?" I ask.
She tilts her head, patting my hair again. I shake my head, frowning. "Did you kill those kids?"
She still doesn't understand. I grab the bear and drag my finger across its throat, pointing at her. Her expression falls, but she smiles again. She leaves the room, her lullaby leaving with her. I hold the bear, tears pricking my eyes. Curiosity killed the cat, I don't know why I didn't listen. I hug myself, the tears coming down. She ignores my distress, taking care to do her own thing.
I don't know how long I sit there, but I know night comes around at least twice. I've learned that her name is Anna, but otherwise she hasn't really said anything I understand. I only get a meal if I ask. Otherwise, she doesn't seem to care about my hunger. Which is odd, though, because she sings to me and holds me like I am her own. She cares about me, and I care about her.
I want to be released from these restraints, but I don't think Anna will allow that anytime soon. It's not that I don't like Anna, she's the closest thing I had to a mom in these past years. But I can't be kept in the same place, waiting for the cold or some illness to kill me off, I just can't.
My wrists hurt from the binds that have been rubbing against my skin for so long. Anna tells me that it's dangerous outside, and that's why she keeps me here. But I used to live out there, I used to live perfectly safe. She doesn't understand.
Every time she goes out to hunt, I try to find a way to remove the binds. I try yanking my wrists free, due to the fact that I've lost weight while living here. I try to use the beam I'm strapped to, cutting into it with the rough wood. I'm making progress, but it's so slow.
By the time the next month rolls around, I manage to cut myself free while Anna is outside. I wait at the door, antsy. I go over to her wooden toy chest, grabbing the small bear. I leave the cabin, looking around. The storms grew over the month, I realize, as I trek the forest. I walk, careful for Anna. I hear her to my right, grunting. I peer around a tree, curious yet again.
She fights an elk, axe swinging. Thunder booms above, rain coming down hard. The elk manages to outmaneuver her, dodging her axe as it thrashes. She darts out of the way as it charges, the beast skidding to a stop a few feet away.
I try to creep away, but Anna notices me, maybe even hears me, because she whips towards the sound of my feet hitting the ground. The elk takes its chance, rearing towards her. "Anna!" I cry out as the elk charges, antlers poised for her chest. She reacts quickly, axe countering the antlers. The beast roars, one of its antlers broken into two.
I notice a calf, antlers barely present. It looks over at it's father, squealing. This elk is only protecting its child. She looks at me, approaching while fending off the father. Soon enough, Anna's in front of me, hitting the elk in the side with her axe. But the elk's skin is rough, and it's going to take more than a few hits to get it down. She keeps glancing at me, confused and angry at the same time. She tells me to get back inside.
I don't leave, scared that she'll get hurt. The elk charges again, Anna sliding out of the way. Unfortunately, the elk doesn't stop, still heading straight for the other human standing in its way. I watch as the beast aims its antler at me, furious and willing to attack anything that comes near its child.
Before Anna can compose herself and counter the attack, the antler embeds itself into its target, impaling my chest. I scream as I'm hoisted into the air, the wild beast thrashing. Anna brings the axe up and smashes it into the elk's skull, again and again. The beast's howls turn to whimpers as it collapses, antler snapping off. I cry as I hit the ground, staring at the antler sticking out of my chest with wide eyes.
Anna drops beside me, hands trying to remove the bone, but it only makes me scream louder. I can't stop sobbing, my cries echoing around the woods. "Stay with me." She speaks in English this time. "Don't go."
She takes my hands, eyes full of sadness. She holds me close while my blood pools on the ground, staining her clothes and skin. "I'm sorry, Anna, I shouldn't have left," I whisper, drowsy.
She fights to keep me awake, but the sleep allures me in as much as her lullaby. She begins to hum that lullaby once she realizes I won't survive, tears bubbling in her brown eyes. The elk calf calls out for its parents, the poor thing left alone. I wouldn't be surprised if it's killed off in a matter of days. I close my eyes, her humming filling my ears. The whispers are wrong, I think. Anna doesn't eat little girls. She isn't a monster, she just doesn't want to be alone.
She is only a huntress.