Sacrificed to the Mountain Demon

Chapter 1

Bella

I wake to the familiar bite of cold air on my nose, the only part of me exposed from beneath the pile of furs. Reluctantly, I peel back the covers, shivering as I slip my feet into worn leather slippers. The wooden floor creaks beneath my weight as I shuffle to the window, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

Outside, Oshta greets me with its harsh beauty. Frost clings to every surface, turning the world into a glittering wonderland. The sun struggles to pierce through the thick blanket of clouds, casting a muted light over the village.

"Bella! You up yet?" Mara's voice carries from downstairs, jolting me into action.

"Coming!" I call back, quickly pulling on layers of warm clothing.

I hurry down the stairs, nearly colliding with Tomas as he emerges from his room.

"Watch it, squirt," he grumbles.

In the kitchen, Mara stands over the hearth, stirring a pot of porridge. The aroma of cinnamon and apples fills the air, making my stomach growl.

"Morning," Mara says, shooting me a warm smile. "Mind setting the table?"

I nod, grabbing bowls and spoons from the cupboard. As I lay them out, I can't help but feel a surge of gratitude for this makeshift family that took me in. They're not blood, but they're all I have.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Tomas asks, plopping down at the table.

Mara ladles generous portions of porridge into our bowls. "Well, we need more firewood. And someone needs to check the traps."

I take a bite of the porridge, savoring the warmth as it slides down my throat. "I can check the traps," I offer quietly.

Tomas raises an eyebrow. "You sure? It's pretty cold out there."

I nod, determination rising in my body. "I can handle it. I want to help."

Mara gives me an approving look. "Thank you, Bella. I’m grateful that you’re always willing to lend a hand."

As we eat, I listen to Tomas and Mara discuss village gossip. I'm content to stay quiet, letting their banter wash over me. 

I soon finish my breakfast, eager to get my daily chores started. Several minutes later, I bundle up in my warmest furs, steeling myself for the biting cold outside. The door creaks as I push it open, a gust of frigid air rushing in to greet me. I take a deep breath, my lungs protesting against the icy intrusion.

"Be careful out there, Bella," Mara calls from inside. "And don't forget your knife!"

I pat my hip, feeling the reassuring weight of the blade. "Got it," I reply, my voice muffled by the thick scarf wrapped around my face.

The snow crunches beneath my boots as I make my way towards the forest's edge. The traps are set about a quarter-mile in, hidden among the gnarled roots of ancient trees. As I walk, it almost feels like something is watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I quicken my pace.

I'm halfway to the first trap when I hear voices. Hunters, by the sound of it, returning from their morning patrol. I pause, curiosity getting the better of me.

"...biggest tracks I've ever seen," one of them says, his voice carrying on the still air.

"Waira," another replies, the word sending a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. "And close, too. We need to warn the village."

My heart races. I begin worrying about my safety as I rush towards the trap. Are the waira still out here? Should I call for help? I get so lost in my thoughts that I don't notice the root jutting out from the snow. My foot catches, and I stumble forward with a yelp. The hunters' heads snap in my direction.

"Who's there?" one calls out, his hand moving to the bow slung across his back.

I step out from behind a tree, hands raised. "It's just me," I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "Bella. I was checking the traps."

The lead hunter, a burly man named Goran, relaxes his stance. "Bella? What in the frozen hells are you doing out here alone?"

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling very small. "I... I wanted to help. With the traps."

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.

Tomas leans against the wall, his arms crossed. "What we always do. Survive."

But as I look into their eyes, I see the same fear that's gnawing at my insides. We might put on a brave face, but deep down, we all know the truth. The waira are coming, and our little village might not be ready for what follows.

The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across our faces. I clutch the mug of mulled wine, its warmth seeping into my trembling hands. Tomas paces by the window, his jaw clenched tight. Mara sits beside me.

A log in the fire pops, making me jump. My heart races, and I take a slow, steady breath, trying to calm my nerves. The spiced wine burns my throat as I take another sip. 

We remain in quietude for what feels like an eternity. A sound suddenly cuts through the thick silence, distant but unmistakable. A long, mournful howl that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

We freeze, eyes wide, barely daring to breathe. The howl comes again, closer this time. Then another joins it, and another.

"Gods above," Mara whispers, her face pale in the firelight.

Tomas moves to the window, peering out. "I can't see anything, but they sound close. Too close."

My hands shake so badly I have to set down the mug. The waira's cries echo through the air, a chilling chorus that speaks of hunger and violence. I think of the tracks Goran described, larger than any they had seen before. What kind of monsters are out there, circling our village?

"What do we do?" I ask, hating how small and scared my voice sounds.

Tomas turns from the window, his expression grim. "We prepare for the worst and hope for the best. That's all we can do."

As if in response, another howl rips through the air, so close it might as well be right outside our door. I shudder, huddling closer to Mara. The fire suddenly seems feeble against the encroaching darkness, and I can't shake the feeling that our little sanctuary is about to be shattered.