A Hearth too Warm - short story

Hi all, hope you’re doing well! Welcome back to another thrilling episode in the story of Halfast! If you need a refresher, you can find previous two parts here, and here, respectively.

I know it’s been a little while, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve been focussing on study, as well as preparing for the release of The Whispering Depths, in only a few months now!!

With that out of the way, let’s jump right into this instalment of Halfast the Woodsman!

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The Tale of Halfast the Woodsman - Part 4 - A Hearth too Warm

Sidna sat in the frozen muck, huddling the bundles of fabric, clutching her knees to her chest in a desperate attempt to fight back the biting chill of the winter night. 

Where is mama? Was all the girl could think, cowering beneath the bush. It had been a long while since her mother fled, and the night had only grown darker. She could barely think, could barely feel her limbs in the snow, and all she wanted was to burrow her head in her mothers’ skirt, to feel the heat of the fire crackling in their hearth as her father told her stories. 

Freki will smell me. She thought. Freki will come for me. 

She waited for him. He was a good dog, and her mother loved her so. 

They would be back. 

She was sure of it.

I have to stay here, she thought, as the night wore on. Mama left me here, and if I leave she won’t know where to find me. 

And still she waited. 

It was not for another hour that the harsh sting began to settle in her limbs. She fidgeted and shook, but the tingling pain would not leave her. 

“Mama.” She cried, stinging her cheeks where her tears were exposed to the frigid air.
She peeked from her hiding place, the bush rustling and catching on her furs as she leant her head out into the open woods. The shadows grew longer as she stared, the almost-pitch blackness of the deep forest watching her. She could hear every branch shaking in the wind, could sense every snapping twig and falling leaf.

As every child knew, there were monsters in those shadows, she was sure, but so long as she stayed perfectly still, as long as she stayed hidden in her bush, they would leave her alone. 

She retreated, painfully slowly, back into her hiding hole, her body frozen, though by the cold or by the paralysing fear, she could not tell.

The cold would sting, and the air would burn with chill, but so long as she stayed dead still, the shadows would not see her, would not advance, would not steal her away to their horrid burrows.

But the shadows did not move. 

The monsters did not leap from the dark, gnashing teeth and raking claws, to drag her away.

But the cold continued to seep in. 

The pain grew.

It was not enough, at first, to force her to confront the shadow monsters that she knew were there.

That she felt watching her, just beyond her sight.

But, as the night grew colder, as the wind grew harsher, as the pain began to ache, then burn, then freeze, she could not contain herself any longer. 

She screamed. 

The scream of a girl in the night, calling for her mother. The scream of a child, plagued by nightmares, wanting to sleep in a parent’s bed. Though no parents would come for her.

She continued to cry, the noise piercing the eerie stillness of the woods. 

She waited a moment, holding in her sobs, waiting for the monsters to finally lurch from the dark and eat her.

But only silence answered her. 

Her heart would not settle, her fogging breath would not slow, her body wanted to run, but she could not allow herself to leave her hiding place. She could not expose herself to the monsters she was convinced lurked in the night.

But she could not stay here.

She let her cries build up, readying herself. She let her breath quicken, and at its crescendo, she bolted from the small bush that had concealed her. 

The outer furs of her fabric coat caught on the brambles, and tore away as she fled.

She did not care.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck shiver, she was certain some chasing horror lurked in the shadows, just behind her. 

She ran as fast as her stubby legs would carry her, along the forest floor. 

She ran, and ran, and ran.

She paused to catch her breath, but as she looked back the shadows loomed, bolstered by the imagination of childhood, and she was fleeing again, spurred on by the terror that only a child can know.

Ahead, amidst the trees, she saw a light.

A faint, flickering light. A small thing, at first, like a small candle burning in the corner of her small cabin. But, as she neared, the light began to grow. She could smell the smoke now, it filled the air, reminding her of a warm winters’ night, when her father would light a fire to heat their home.

As she stumbled into the clearing she saw it. 

The cabin was plain and unadorned. Chimes hung from the wooden arches, singing in the faint wind of the cold night. The ember glow flickered within, warm and inviting.

She crouched behind a stump, silent, and watched. There was no movement, no sign of life from within, only the constant firelight. 

The shock had worn off, and the cold began to settle into her again. She shivered and cried, looking back at the darkness behind her.

She felt the tingling at her back, felt the eyes peering out from the shadows.

She took her first step towards the cabin.

The light grew around her with every step, until she had reached the small porch, adorned only with an old rocking chair and a small wooden figure, carved of white wood and set upon the handrail, as if watching her approach.

She felt its eyes on her, could almost see it turn to track her as she walked. She hurried past it, daring not to look back at it, or at the blackness that now engulfed the woods behind. 

She held out her hand to knock on the wooden door, but paused a moment. 

She could feel her heartbeat, could hardly control her limbs, but she could not stay out in the cold.

She knocked. 

The heavy door creaked open at her touch, just enough to reveal the far corner of the small cabin.

A face greeted her, huddled among a large black shawl, unmoving. Its pale skin almost shone in the orange light, its penetrating eyes wide and staring. It almost looked dead, to Sidna, it only hunched in its far corner, watching her.

Sidna dared not move. She only stood, frozen, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. 

“Oh.” The face said, its voice creaking. “You poor thing. Come in and sit by the fire.”

Sidna did not move, just felt the tears pushing out past her eyes. They erupted forth as she cried out, wailing in the night.

The face rose to its full height, its tall body pushing it out of the small chair in which it had been huddled. Sidna only now realised that it belonged to a woman, wrinkled and worn with age. 

The tall woman stalked over to the door, leaning down to speak with her.

“Come in, wee thing.” Sidna felt two large hands close over her shoulders, pulling her inside.

She continued to cry, but allowed herself to be led into the cabin. The warm air engulfed her, the smell of fresh bread and butter filling her nose. She only now realised how hungry she was, her empty belly growling as the smells waft over her.

The tall woman lead Sidna to a chair by the hearth, turning it to face the flickering amber fire.

“Warm up, my little lovely.” She grinned at Sidna with a smile that did not reach her eyes. 

“Poor little thing, I must have frightened you.”

Sidna only nodded.

“Oh, poor dead.” The woman pouts her lower lip, those too-open eyes peering into the girl. “Warm yerself, and I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

Sidna could not stem the steady flow of tears, her eyes red and bawling. She could barely breathe through the gasping breaths as her lungs fought to suck in more air. The sting in her limbs grew as she heated them by the fire. She winced, pulling them away from the heat.

“Best let them warm, little dove. I know it hurts, but you’ve taken a chill.”

Sidna looked to the woman. The too-tall woman with her too-long limbs and her too-open eyes. Sidna felt the discomfort creep through her mind, crawling up her back. 

She looked to the door, now firmly shut to keep at bay the snow and the ice and the wind. 

“Wh-” She started, but could not bring herself to speak.

“What’s that, lovely?” The woman asked, placing a crust of sweetbread in her hands, before taking up her chair and wrapping the black shawl about her, just as she had been when Sidna arrived. The black of the fabric blended so smoothly with the flickering shadows cast by the fire, that the woman appeared as a detached head, floating in an endless void. Sidna wanted to turn away, but the thought of turning her back on the woman made her skin crawl.

She still had not worked up the courage to speak.

Her stomach, however, was not so shy. It gurgled and growled, begging her to take a bite of the delicious sweetbread. 

She looked down at it, a deep, golden-brown crust and a light, sponge-yellow pillow within.

She looked back to the woman, her head still as stone, fixed on the girl, before she tore a corner from the loaf and nibbled at it.

There are, perhaps, some Southern children who could have resisted a treat so sweet, but Sidna was not one of them.

She turned the soft bread over in her mouth, her stomach aching for more. She scoffed the entire loaf, chewing and tearing and munching. 

She had not quite realised how hungry she had grown.

“That’s better, isn’t it, my love?” The woman said, her eyes unmoving, her vacant smile floating amidst the inky black sea of her shawl.

“My- My mama. That’s what she calls me.”

“Oh, is it?” The woman’s mouth beamed, though her eyes did not waver. “What a lovely woman, your mam.”

“You- You know her?”

“Oh, of course, dearie. She’s an old friend of mine.”

“I lost her. She left me…” Sidna’s eyes began to well.

“Don’t cry, my little dove, don’t cry. Here, have more. Such a skinny little thing you are.”

A hand reached out from the shadows behind Sidna, placing a fresh crust of sweetbread on her chair. 

“Don’t cry now.” The woman said, from her chair in the corner across from Sidna. The girl took the bread, tearing it apart. 

“Don’t cry. It will all be better soon…”

———

That’s it for this episode, everyone, I hope you enjoyed. What secrets does this strange woman hide? What awaits Sidna in the cabin? Will she ever find her way back to her parents?

There’s only one way to find out.

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As always, thanks for reading, see you next time!