Maria and George have known each other since childhood. And since childhood, they've been warned about the Eddies, the mysterious, hidden faeries that inhabited the woods near their village.
But as George grows up, he becomes obsessed with the faer...
When the faery released him, the place was changed completely. The light was gone, the candles were out. A strong wind blew, swirling the clothes and locks of the fae. The faery looking at him now was completely different from the translucent creature that had invited him to their dance. Her eyes were entirely black, and twigs and weeds tangled in her hair. Her purple lips parted in a wild grin, revealing her sharp white teeth. Her face had the color of unfertile soil, and on her forehead, the boy noticed with horror two swellings as if horns could come out at any moment. Long eyelashes, like the blades of withered grass, encircled her eyes, fluttering in the air as her gaze was fixed on him. Her bony hands twitched in sudden moves of her long fingers, too long to be considered earthy, resembling crushed firewood.
The fae said nothing. But there was no need, for the boy was more frightened than he had ever been. The creature in front of him, because he couldn't call it otherwise, twisted her head unnaturally so that her chin almost reached his forehead. George closed his eyes and wished he would never open them again.
"Look at me, mortal!" he heard dozens of mixed voices coming out of the faery's throat. "Watch as we sip your last drop of life," she hissed.
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George stubbornly kept his eyes closed, but a force stronger than him made him open them. The faeries, now ugly creatures, as scary as their grins, were watching him, their ragged dresses fluttering.
Sharp pains shot through his body, and his head felt like made of lead. Before his eyes, as if he had seen it for real, faces and happening began to run. His life ... He saw the dear face of his lost mother as he rocked him, singing tenderly to him. His dear grandmother, hugging him in her arms that smelled of linden flowers. Boys and girls, his friends, caught in jolly dances. Cold rivers whose life-giving waters could feel on his skin. Whistle song of an old shepherd who would graze the sheep with his. People coming from the field carrying their scythes on their backs. Cheerful fires with flames reaching the sky and the smell of baked corn ... The stove in his house, where he was warming himself after a terrible snowball fight. His old dog, Azor, running after him with his tongue out. Stifling summer with the scent of wildflowers. The Forest of Wind, caught between the moonlight and the shadows of the trees ... Laughter, whispers, voices, songs, screams, shouts ...
And the girl with the golden hair, running through the grass on the plain full of poppy and blue flowers. She smiled at him with her lips, her eyes, and her whole being, stretching out her arms he could never touch or feel ...
"Catrina, stop!" he heard Magda's desperate cry.
George fell to the ground, his face glued to the dead leaves around him. He felt powerless. He could barely breathe the heavy air as if he were not in a forest, but he could only see their translucent feet walking around him.
