Deep within the forest, darkness stretched endlessly between the trees.
Only pale moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, spilling in thin silver ribbons across the ground.
Sian moved quietly through the undergrowth, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Beneath his tall leather boots, dry leaves and brittle twigs crunched softly with every careful step.
Several paces ahead of him, Beatrice lowered her long snout to the forest floor, sniffing intently as she followed a trail invisible to human eyes.
She stopped.
Her ears twitched.
A faint rustle echoed through the trees.
Sian's hand immediately went to the rifle on his shoulder. He slipped it free and sank into a crouch behind the thick trunk of an oak tree.
Moments later, a deer emerged from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight.
Beside it lay a small pond, its still waters reflecting the pale moon like polished silver.
Unaware of the eyes watching it, the deer lowered its head to drink.
Sian slowly raised the rifle, his grey eyes fixed on the animal, waiting for the perfect moment.
He slowed his breathing.
One finger crept toward the trigger.
Just a little closer...
He began to squeeze the trigger.
A twig snapped somewhere in the darkness.
The deer's head shot up.
Droplets fell from its muzzle as it froze, ears twitching.
For a brief moment, it stood trembling beneath the moonlight.
Then it bolted.
Sian pulled the trigger.
The gunshot tore through the forest's silence.
The bullet struck nothing but bark.
The deer disappeared into the darkness.
For a few seconds, Sian remained frozen in place.
Then he lowered the rifle with a quiet sigh.
It had escaped.
Beatrice, the dog, suddenly lifted her head and turned toward the deeper part of the forest, in the direction where the deer had disappeared. Her ears perked up, and without warning, she dashed into the darkness.
"Beatrice!" Sian called out and hurried after her.
He pushed through the undergrowth, venturing deeper and deeper into the forest. After a while, he slowed to a stop in the midst of the trees.
Silence.
The forest had grown unnaturally still. No rustling leaves, no birdsong—only the faint whisper of the wind weaving through the branches.
Sian glanced around.
Then he gave a short whistle.
For a moment, there was no answer.
Then a bark echoed through the trees.
He immediately followed the sound.
The trees gradually began to thin, and something emerged from the darkness.
A cabin.
It stood alone among the trees, swallowed by silence, while Beatrice waited before it.
An uneasy feeling stirred within him.
As he approached the door, he slowly pushed it open.
The hinges let out a long, unsettling creak.
A heavy, suffocating wave of air seeped out from within, thick with the unmistakable scent of death.
Inside, a woman's body hung motionless from a thick rope tied to one of the wooden beams above.
Her feet dangled a few inches above the floor, swaying ever so slightly.
___
The detective standing before Sian was a man of average height and build, dressed in plain, almost stereotypical earth-toned attire, his face etched with sharp, stern features. Fine lines deepened around his mouth whenever his lips parted to speak. His deep-set eyes occasionally dropped to the small notebook in his large hands, where he had written down every statement, glancing at it from time to time as he repeated them to confirm their accuracy.
Sian was the first witness to report the location of the body to the police, claiming he had been on a hunting trip when he discovered it.
Around them, other officers in dark blue uniforms and caps had already sealed off the cabin with yellow tape.
"So during your hunting trip, you came across this cabin, and thinking it was abandoned, you decided to take shelter and rest, only to discover the body of the woman," the detective said gruffly.
"Yes, sir," Sian replied.
The detective lowered his eyes back to the notebook, continuing to read aloud and verify the details with the witness.
But Sian's mind had already drifted away from the scene. Reality seemed to slip from his grasp, the detective's voice becoming distant and muffled, as though it were coming from somewhere far away.
His eyes remained fixed on the cabin.
From where he stood, he could still make out the yellow tapes and the victim hanging inside the cabin, her beautiful golden hair falling over her shoulders as her feet dangled above the floor.
Then—
the body was gone.
The rope still hung from the wooden beam, swaying gently.
His gaze slowly shifted outside the cabin.
No one seemed to have noticed.
A young woman stood several paces away, pale and motionless. A dark mark encircled her neck, exactly where the rope should have been.
"Sir... Sir?"
The detective's voice pulled him from his daydream.
He blinked.
The body was there again, hanging exactly where it had been before.
No woman.
No ghostly apparition bearing the mark of the noose.
Only the corpse.
"Are you all right?" the detective asked in his hoarse voice.
Sian raised a hand and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose.
"My apologies. It seems the sight of a corpse affected me more than I expected. Could you repeat the question?"
The detective studied him for a moment before speaking again.
"Is that rifle licensed?" he asked, gesturing toward the hunting rifle slung over Sian's shoulder.
"Yes," Sian replied.
The detective's sharp eyes lingered on the hunting rifle for a long moment.
"I'm just a hunter," Sian said.
Only then did the detective's gaze leave the rifle and rise to his face, studying him. Those gray eyes seemed almost empty, and something about them filled him with an inexplicable sense of unease.
A sudden burst of barking made them turn around. Two police officers in dark blue uniforms stood nearby, trying to calm Sian's dog. One of them was clutching his hand, having narrowly pulled it away.
"Sorry, sir," one of the officers said, holding the dog at a distance. "She suddenly became aggressive when my partner tried to pet her."
Sian looked at them apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir. She barks at strangers."
With a single whistle, the barking ceased. The dog immediately calmed down and ran to Sian's side.
The detective tucked his notebook into the inner pocket of his coat and said in a deep, rough voice,
"Very well. You may leave for now. If anything comes up, we will have someone reach you at the address you provided."
Without another word, Sian turned and began to leave, his dog following close behind.
The detective watched him go, a slight furrow forming between his brows.
'The cabin lay nearly two hours from the nearest police station.'
'Judging by the time the report reached the station, he must have found the body long before dawn.'
'Long before dawn, then...'
'Strange. Most hunters did not venture into the woods until shortly before sunrise.'
___
From afar, buildings crowned with pointed spires rose against the morning sky, their Gothic and Baroque details casting long shadows. A towering clock spire stood proudly above them.
The streets were already alive with horse-drawn carriages rolling over the cobblestones as elegantly dressed townsfolk filled the morning bustle.
Two pairs of feet moved quickly through the streets, while a smaller pair struggled to keep pace behind them.
Sian turned into a narrow alley, where his apartment nestled within an old brick building.
Rows of arched windows stretched from one end to the other like musical notes on a staff. Some windows were adorned with delicate iron balconies, their railings twisting into elegant patterns, and small pots of geraniums and ivy spilled over their edges, adding a touch of green to the building's muted grays.
Through thin, velvety curtains, semi-transparent and soft, the windows glimmered, revealing glimpses of simple yet ornate and beautiful furniture inside. Rusted fire escapes clung to the walls like veins of iron.
The entire façade became a visual symphony, each element harmonizing with the next, as if the building itself were performing an ancient, wordless tune. It was the kind of building that seemed alive — each window holding a story yet to be told, unheard by the world.
Paws rested in the old bathtub as water streamed from the tap. Sian's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he worked the soap into his dog's muddy fur, white foam gathering between his fingers.
"You really outdid yourself today, didn't you—playing in the mud again while I was busy." he said, gently scrubbing behind her ears.
The dog sat still, her tail thumping softly against the side of the tub.
"And did you really have to bark at the policeman?" he added in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, as if he were simply stating something obvious rather than scolding her. "What if they had thought you were rabid and taken you away?"
He cupped water in his hands and began rinsing away the foam. As the mud washed off, her coat slowly shifted from a uniform earthy brown to a striking contrast of colors. A bright, clean white emerged along her underside and legs, while the upper parts of her body revealed a red merle pattern—rich reddish-brown patches blended with creamy tones and faint copper markings.
The dog looked up at him and let out a soft whine, as if apologizing.
He stood up to fetch a towel and draped it over the dog's head, gently drying her fur.
The moment he let go, Beatrice leaped out of the basin and shook her entire body, scattering droplets of water everywhere.
She then trotted after Sian as he made his way back to the kitchen.
Standing there with a cookbook in his hand, he turned toward the dog, only to find her staring longingly at the box of dog biscuits.
With a sigh, he picked it up and placed it back on the upper shelf of the wooden cabinet.
"Don't even think about getting a reward today," he said, responding to her soft whines with a faint, amused exhale. "You've already caused enough trouble."
---
Beatrice, the dog, had finished her bowl of bread soaked in warm milk and now lay curled up on the floor, already dozing.
After cleaning Beatrice and setting down her food, Sian finally made his way to the bedroom. By then, the sun had already climbed above the rooftops. He collapsed face-first onto the bed. Before he knew it, sleep had claimed him.