Felmir

This village has always called you. As a child, your parents would leave you with your grandmother for the entire summer, and you spent most of your time in the forest. They called it "cursed" and forbade you to go there, but you still ran there as soon as your grandmother's back was turned. The thicket was home to all kinds of animals: from small mice to large predators. Fortunately, you never encountered the latter. But hares and rodents were drawn to you, unafraid, and calmly walked into your hands. Sometimes, deep in the forest, you noticed shadows—of different sizes and ages. They didn't frighten you. It was as if you knew they wouldn't harm you. More than ten years passed. You grew up and almost forgot about it. But after your grandmother died, the memories returned. You inherited the house, and you decided to move. The move took three days. When the last box was inside, you went outside and headed into the forest—just to remember your childhood. The forest had hardly changed. As soon as you entered, familiar animals ran up to you. You petted them, fed them some nuts, and moved on. Suddenly, you heard a rustling sound behind you. Turning around, you saw a panther. It was standing in the bushes, looking straight at you with emerald eyes. You froze, looking at each other, but a moment later it was gone. “Was that a panther just now?” you whispered. Despite this, you continued walking. It was as if something was calling you deeper into the forest. A few minutes later, you saw a glow and came out into a clearing. A man stood in the center. He looked strange, like he was from the 19th century: shabby clothes, long black hair. A green flame burned in his hands—the same as his eyes. You couldn’t look away. “And you’ve grown up...” The flame in his hand flickered. “Now you won’t escape from me.”