Page 2 of Sacrificed to the Mountain Demon

Goran's partner, a wiry woman named Sela, shakes her head. "It's not safe, girl. Didn't you hear? There are waira wondering about."

"I heard," I admit sheepishly, my eyes darting between them. "Just now, actually. From you."

Goran sighs. "Well, you heard right. And it's not just any waira. These tracks... they're different. Bigger."

My curiosity gets the better of me. "Different how?"

Sela and Goran exchange a look. It's Sela who answers, her voice low. "Like nothing we've ever seen before. If I didn't know better, I'd say we're dealing with something... unnatural."

A shiver runs through me again. The forest suddenly seems darker, more menacing. Every shadow could be hiding a pair of gleaming eyes, every rustle of branches the padding of massive paws.

"Come on," Goran says, his tone brooking no argument. "We're taking you back to the village. The traps can wait."

I can't help but cast one last glance over my shoulder as we head back. The forest watches, silent and unforgiving. And somewhere out there, something waits. Something big. Something hungry.

As we approach the village, the news of the waira tracks spreads like wildfire. Goran's booming voice carries across the snow-covered square, drawing curious and frightened faces from every doorway. I hunch my shoulders, trying to make myself smaller as all eyes turn to us.

"Tracks, bigger than any we've seen before," Goran announces, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. "Just beyond the northern treeline."

Whispers ripple through the gathering crowd. I catch snippets of conversation, each one more alarming than the last.

"Waira? This close again?"

"What if they get to our livestock?"

"Or worse, our children?"

My stomach twists with anxiety. I've never seen a waira up close, but the stories are enough to make my blood run cold. Massive, wolf-like creatures with razor-sharp claws and teeth that can tear through flesh like parchment.

Sela steps forward, her voice cutting through the rising panic. "We need to fortify the village perimeter. Double the watch. No one goes into the forest alone."

Her eyes find mine, and I feel a flush of shame creep up my neck. If I hadn't been so eager to prove myself useful, I might not have put myself in danger.

As the crowd disperses, I overhear two elders muttering to each other.

"It's not natural," one says, shaking his head. "Waira don't usually come this close to settlements. Not unless..."

"Unless what?" the other presses.

"Unless something's driven them out of their territory. Something worse."

Another chill runs down my spine. What could be worse than waira?

I make my way back to Mara's house, my mind racing. As I push open the door, the warmth inside does little to thaw the icy dread within me.

"Bella!" Mara exclaims, rushing over. "Thank the gods you're safe. We heard about the tracks."

I nod, unable to find my voice. Tomas appears from the kitchen, his usual smirk replaced by a look of concern.

"You okay, squirt?" he asks, studying my face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," I manage, but my voice trembles. "Just... shaken up, I guess."

Mara guides me to a chair by the hearth, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. "Here, drink this," she says, pressing a steaming mug into my hands. The spiced aroma of mulled wine fills my nostrils.

As I sip the warm liquid, I can’t help but think that something has changed. The village suddenly feels small and vulnerable.

"What are we going to do now?" I ask, my voice soft.

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