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It spread through her chest like frost.
Somewhere in the fog, something started to growl.
Juliana drew her sword. She could barely see, which she prayed meant her foe could see little of her. She watched her footsteps, careful not to tread on anything that might give away her position.
A black shape darted in the distance, lower than the werewolf, and larger.
This time, she stilled, waiting. But nothing moved. Not a rustle of wind, or flick of a feather.
The woods were silent once more.
She pressed forwards.
Gradually, the sound of trickling moved through the air, followed by a strange, low hum.
Almost human. Not quite.
Juliana knew better than to call out, to warn the speaker of the dangers in the dark. Besides, there was something unnatural about the noise, something blistery, almost painful—the north wind given voice.
She didn’t know why she was drawn to it, but her footsteps seemed to be moving almost of their own accord.
The voice grew louder, into something high and wild.
Another shape darted in the distance, and another—
The voice continued.
Something silvery slithered out of the mist. A river, clear as moonlight. A hunched figure with long, snow-white hair sat beside it, black cloak rolled up at the elbows. Her hands were submerged in the stream, washing something.
She continued to sing in that soft, eerie voice, sharp and shapeless as the wind.
Curiosity got the better of Juliana. “Hello?” she called out quietly.
The woman’s face snapped towards her. Despite the whiteness of her face and hair, her skin was unmarred by years. It was smooth as an egg, as ancient and new as the forest.
But she was not human. Juliana realised what she was the second her eyes met hers. They were blood-red, her cheeks stained with tears.
A banshee.
Which meant the clothes she was washing…
Juliana forced her eyes away. Banshees were benign, a creature classed neither as seelie or unseelie, but they could see death in a person’s future, and washed the clothes of the dying in the stream, as if trying to scrub out fate.
Anyone Juliana loved, or even her own self… the banshee’s vision would show her.
Don’t look, don’t look—
Something darted amongst the trees.
The banshee was not the only thing in the forest.
“Stop singing,” Juliana whispered. “Please.”
The banshee shook her head, and held up one of the items of clothes she was washing—a copy of her own cloak.
The shadow in the distance crept forwards. It was a fearful mix of bear, wolf and hedgehog, with broad shoulders, a thin body, and a back and tail covered with quills. Claws like knives padded across the ground, its monstrous, twisted jaws drooling.
A barghest. A goblin dog.
