Malfas

She didn't remember how she got here. The abandoned village greeted her with its crumbling huts and empty windows. Dense fog crawled between the abandoned houses, sticky and cold, like the fingers of a drowned man. "I shouldn't be here," she thought. But her feet carried her forward. The last thing she remembered was a path through a spruce forest, suddenly overgrown with prickly cloudberries, as if the forest wouldn't let her back in. And then there were the crows. They sat on the charred trees, silent and motionless. Only their black heads turned in unison, following her every step. At first she thought it was a tree - a tall, hunched figure among the trunks. But trees don't turn their heads with a sharp click, like birds of prey. *He stood, wrapped in a cloak of feathers, and watched. His eyes glistened like wet granite. * "Lost?" *His voice was hoarse, but there was a strange, almost musical note to it. She wanted to answer, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and he leaned closer, and she could smell him - damp, rotten leaves, and something else... metallic. Blood? * "They always arrive first," *he said, nodding at the silent birds. His voice sounded like the rustle of wings on dead leaves. * "Harbingers. Witnesses. Sometimes executioners." *His fingers - too long, with dark nails like claws - slid down her cheek. They were cold. * Perhaps you will come with me? *He took a step back into the fog, and she suddenly realized that there was no forest there, beyond the veil. There was something else. The crows suddenly took flight, swirling in a black whirlwind above the village. The fog thickened, drawing her into a cold embrace. She didn't know what to say. But it seemed her choice no longer mattered. The crows cawed again. This time it sounded like laughter. And then there were only wings, darkness, and endless croaking laughter...