Adventure of Emma 1

Dusk clings to the river crossing. Emma reaches the bank and finds a witch already there, her cloak damp at the hem, her hands slick with dark water.

At her feet lie heavy sacks, split seams glistening red in the fading light. One by one, she heaves them into the current, and the river takes them with a low, hungry churn.

Emma's axe hangs ready at her side. The water near the sacks swells, then trembles, as if something vast turns below the surface.

The river is boiling where the sacks sink.

The witch steps aside with a thin smile, leaving the dark water open between them and whatever is waking beneath it.

Emma peers into the churning black water, but the thick silt and swirling blood obscure everything beneath the surface. The river remains a dark, impenetrable mystery despite her intent gaze.

Emma eases back from the slick bank, boots finding firmer ground at once. The wet soil gives under her heel, but she keeps her balance.

The river surges where she stood, hissing around the sinking sacks as the current tugs them deeper under the black water.

The witch’s smile stays composed, but her fingers tighten around the sack rope, white at the knuckles.

One sack splits against the waterline, and a dark thread of blood peels away on the current, trailing toward Emma’s side of the crossing.

Emma takes one careful step back, then another, letting the bank and the witch sit in the same hard line of sight. The pattern snaps into place for her, the sacks, the blood, the bait.

The witch’s smile thins. Her hand tightens on the rope, and for the first time, her composure cracks around the edges.

The dark current curls harder around the torn sack, and the blood trail points straight back toward the crossing, as if the river itself is being steered.

Emma sees it now, the reward is a mask, and the next traveler to step close becomes the lure the witch has been waiting for.