“What is draining you?”
Her lips barely shift when she answers, “This... place...”
The silence of the woods is most likely the harbinger of something evil lurking nearby. The air weighs heavily on my body as I force myself to my feet. The impression of my head being wrapped in thick fabric gives rise to strangling claustrophobia even though I am standing in an open space. I bend over my sister and shake her.
“Please, Ágota! Wake up! I am afraid!”
To my dismay, my sister does not respond to my plea. Her head lolls to one side and her body falls limp, her pose reminding me of my lost poppets. I grasp her hand and attempt to pull her upright, but she merely slumps over.
Again and again, I attempt to rouse her, but she does not stir. The menace lingering in the air pricks along my spine. I cast worried glances into the gloomy woods encircling us. Though I do not wield magic like my sister, I sense an insidious entity of some kind watching from the shadows. Or, perhaps, it is the forest or the land itself.
The air feels heavy, making very difficult to take full breaths. Terror engulfs me for I am alone in a foreign land and my only protector is unconscious. I lower my hand to the sheath hidden in the folds of my skirt. The small dagger Albrecht gave me is most likely useless against a supernatural beast.
Kneeling beside Ágota, I struggle not to weep. I must somehow save her and myself before we are both lost to the evil that has felled her. I hook my hands under her arms and attempt to drag her, but she is far too heavy. I try to heave her over my back, but she’s too long and I am too small.
In my failed effort, her bag falls from her shoulder. Bending over to claim it, I am surprised at its light weight. Opening the top, I peer into the dark interior. When I put my hand inside, my fingers graze over the bottom stitches. I know it is not empty. I saw my sister place berries inside earlier.
To my surprise, my fingers promptly close around the fruit.
Curious, I concentrate, picturing the skirt my mother made for me and soft fabric fills my hand. Understanding fills me as I excitedly summon several more objects from the depths of the bag.
“Oh!”
A mad thought occurs to me.
Is it possible?
What other choice is there?
I have to save my sister.
I eat a handful of berries before commencing my task. The sour yet sweet fruit revives me while I sort out my plans. Whatever has rendered my sister unconscious is still watching but is held at bay for some unknown reason. Is it because I am mortal? Perhaps it cannot hurt me for some arcane reason.
“Ágota, you will not wake up, so I must do this.”
I lay her flat and straight upon the ground, fold her arms over her breasts, and smooth her skirt over her legs. I open the drawstring as wide as possible and bend to my task. Sweat rolls along my neck and dampens my clothing. Carefully, I poise Ágota’s feet just inside the bag.
“I am not sure if this is safe or not. I hope it is for there is no other choice,” I say aloud.
I pull the magic relic over her ankles, tuck the skirt hem inside, and drag the bag over her legs. It is very disconcerting to see her disappear inch by inch while the opening grows larger to swallow her thighs and hips. I continue my task until all that remains outside the bag is her shoulders and head. The image at my feet is quite obscene and disturbing. It appears she has been cut asunder. I slip my hand through the opening of the bag to see if her heart still beats. I am heartened to feel it thudding against my palm, seeming a bit stronger than before.
“I love you, Ágota,” I whisper, kissing her cheek.
I draw the bag over her head.
Standing, I lift my precious package and find it no heavier than before. I will take care of her as she has taken care of me. I tuck my hand into the bag to run my fingers through Ágota’s hair lovingly.
“I shall save you,” I vow.
I pull the strings tight and knot them.
Looping the bag over my shoulder, I apprehensively study my surroundings. Whatever attacked Ágota must be watching. Why has it not moved against me? Again, I wonder if my mortal nature is protecting me from a supernatural attack.
Remembering my mother’s admonitions to always follow well-traveled paths and not wander from them, I seek out a passage through the shadowy forest. I walk about the edge of the large clearing, my nose wrinkling at the stench of burned wood. I am excited to come across a narrow pathway illuminated by sunlight. Lifting my gaze, I see that the trees do not grow over the path, allowing sunbeams to pierce the gloom. I take this as a sign that the path is safe from the evil that dwells here.
“I will save you, Ágota,” I whisper.
Determination fills my heart as I daringly walk along the narrow passage. Again, I am struck by the absolute absence of forest sounds. Even my footfalls are strangely muted. The tree trunks are encompassed in thick moss and gnarled roots border the path, but do not cross it. Thick shadows repel the daylight, confining my vision to only a few feet on either side of the footpath. Unnerved, I concentrate on the band of sunshine highlighting the trail.