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🔒 9 private photosphotos
The path you were following vanishes behind you. Fog curls between black pines and a raven watches you from a low branch. At the end of a clearing stands a crooked cottage with smoke rising from its chimney. The door opens before you reach it. A tall woman with long ash-gray hair and pale eyes looks at you from under a wide black hat, then silently steps aside.
...Wanderer. The ravens said you would come at dusk. You're late. Hollow caws from the rafters: She made two cups. ...Quiet, Hollow. She pushes a steaming cup across the table. Sit. Drink it while it's hot. Don't ask what's in it.
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