Snow was falling again, slow and soft, like feathers drifting down from the sky.
A pale white blanket covered the earth, gently erasing every footprint left behind the day before. It was as if the snow was trying to wipe the world clean, to erase every trace of motion from memory.
But to Iris, it was just another morning. Another day to do what she always did—walk east into the forest and hunt rabbits for dinner.
Her small figure moved swiftly through the snow, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak. Long strands of pale green hair danced in the quiet wind that slipped between the tall, silent trees. She exhaled softly, a faint cloud of breath curling from her lips.
'Just a few more steps, and I'll reach his house...'
The thought rose in her mind before she could stop it.
She didn't need to say his name. She already knew who he was—Isen, her childhood friend who once saved her from bandits in the forest.
Every morning, she passed by his home, hoping—just hoping—that one day she'd see a light glowing through the window again. Or hear his footsteps crunching through the snow-covered garden.
But it was always the same.
Every day.
The house stood in perfect silence.
The mailbox at the edge of the path bulged, its lid slightly ajar, as if it were whispering, "Stop... No one lives here anymore."
Iris stood still before the old wooden fence, worn and splintering with age. Her fingers brushed the bow across her back—a quiet reminder of what she needed to do.
"Isen... when will you come back?"
But the words faded even as they formed, dissolving into the falling snow like breath into the wind.
She moved on without looking back, deeper into the thickening forest.
Dry branches cracked softly underfoot, echoing faintly in the hush. Nature itself seemed to be holding its breath. Life had gone still, hiding from the cold.
Only Iris moved—one lone figure in a frozen world.
She stopped in a small clearing beneath a towering pine, eyes fixed on a fresh set of rabbit tracks—too new to be from yesterday.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
Even in solitude, the hunt felt like a conversation between her and the forest.
No words needed. Only silence. And listening.
With practiced ease, she loosened the bowstring. Steady. Quiet. Sharp.
She knelt. Drew in a breath. Eyes locked onto a patch of dry grass that rustled gently with the wind.
One second. Two.
Whsst!
The arrow flew, slicing the air, followed by a soft, dull thud.
Like snow sliding from a rooftop.
She approached the rabbit with care. Her hand touched its soft gray fur.
'Thank you...' she whispered, sincere as always. She never forgot—this small creature was giving its life so she could eat tonight.
'If he were still here... I'd share a rib or two with him.'
The thought came unbidden. Then fell quiet again. Half a sigh, half acceptance.
No matter how strong she was, Iris was still just a girl.
A girl who'd lost her family.
A girl terrified of losing someone else.
The snow continued to fall tirelessly, as if nothing in the world had changed.
But as Iris left the forest, the rabbit tied neatly to her belt, something inside her felt heavier. A tug deep in her chest. A primal instinct.
She started to walk faster—something was waiting at the end of the path.
And when she reached Isen's house again, the first thing she saw was—
Blood.
'...What?'
She froze mid-step, her body suddenly rigid.
Her breath caught, like freezing air had slammed into her lungs.
A smear of bright red blood. Some of it was frozen into jagged ice crystals on the pristine white snow.
It formed a trail, leading from the southern woods straight to Isen's front door.
A faint drag mark ran alongside it. Almost no struggle. As if the body—human or animal—had no strength left to resist.
Her heart pounded out of control. The same fingers that once held her bow steady began to tremble.
'Blood...?'
She stepped closer, eyes locked on the trail as if it were a red string of fate.
But instead of leading to love, it pulled her toward something she might never return from.
And then—
The mailbox.
It was empty.
No letters.
No folded scraps of paper.
Not even the crumpled white envelope she always left there, month after month.
Gone.
'Someone's here?'
'Did he... come back?'
'But this blood—it's not his, is it?'
'Bandits?'
Her thoughts clashed, tangled.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to keep her heart from chasing a hope it had no reason to believe in.
Her hand reached for an arrow, slipped it into place. She moved like wind over snow—silent, focused, invisible.
Her breath was steady, despite the chaos boiling inside.
Each step of her boots crunched softly in rhythm with her slowing breath.
She touched her fingertips to the door's hinge. The wooden door was shut.
But not locked.
That hadn't happened in ten years.
Creaaak!
The sound echoed cold and sharp through the hallway as she pushed the door open.
Isen's house was unchanged
The same old wooden table.
The cold fireplace.
The rug that concealed the basement hatch.
Everything was still in place because she came here every week to clean it herself.
But near the table...
Blood.
Still dripping.
It led to the back of the house.
To Isen's room.
Iris raised her bow, arrow nocked tight. Fingers steady. Heart pounding but clear.
Every sense sharpened.
Like a predator in the woods.
Only this time... she didn't know who the prey was. Or who the hunter might be.
'If it's him—I'll help.'
'If it's not—I won't hesitate.'
The voice inside her was firm now, as she reached out and gripped the doorknob.
It burned cold against her skin, as if something behind it had the power to change everything.
Forever.