The Huntress

From the moment she could walk, Anna was taught to survive the unforgiving wilds of the northern woods. Her mother showed her how to hunt, track, and endure the bitter cold. Their days were spent among the trees, and their nights by the cabin’s fire—warmth and lullabies warding off the darkness. For a time, it was peace. But peace in the Red Forest never lasts.

One hunt changed everything. When a starving elk charged, Anna froze—until her mother stepped in its path, axe swinging. The beast died, but so did the woman who had kept Anna alive. Alone in the silent snow, Anna learned to survive the only way she knew how: to hunt.

Years passed, and the forest claimed her humanity. What began as survival became instinct. She stalked wolves and bears, and when soldiers and travellers crossed her path, she found her new prey—humans. Their tools, trinkets, and toys became her trophies. Yet among the blood and bones, one thing lingered in her hollow heart: the memory of her mother’s lullabies.

When Anna found little girls lost in her woods, she couldn’t bring herself to kill them. Instead, she took them home, hoping to fill the void left behind. But the forest is no place for innocence. One by one, the children withered away—cold, sick, afraid. Each loss drove her deeper into madness, and she hunted again, seeking more to take their place.

Villagers whispered of a monster in the Red Forest—a beast in a woman’s shape, wearing a carved wooden mask and singing as she killed. When war came, soldiers vanished into the trees, their bodies left torn and broken. And when the fighting ended, the forest grew quiet once more, its song swallowed by the Fog.

Now she hunts endlessly, her lullaby echoing through the trees—a haunting promise that once you hear it… it’s already too late.