🍂 Widow

Tooth & Nail: Chapter One

Step into a world of chaos, magic, monsters, and bones. Welcome to TOOTH & NAIL—A dark fantasy novella. The first season will be released bi-weekly refer to Episode Schedule for a fuller account. Thank you for taking the time to read!

Previously in the prologue - Yarrow rescued her god child from the ashes.

The hare’s heart dripped red. Saskia Holzfäller tossed it into the basket. Her nose wrinkled at the scent of flesh and damp leaves. Autumn wasn’t the richest season for poaching, but she didn’t dare set the snares any later. Winter would soon leach the vibrant honey-gold trees into rot, causing the animals that made easy prey to retreat deep into their burrows. But with the snow came a desperation in the smallest of creatures. The foxes and weasels were manageable, but the wolves were the beasts that bled into her nightmares.

She tipped the wicker basket. Despite her pains of separating the meat from the bones, her kill was meager and she had an extra mouth to feed. A crackle of leaves rustled beside her. Her young son, Jonas, stacked towers of stone near a small wooden soldier. She smiled to herself, The toy was well-loved with a missing button eye, its paint chipped away from one too many encounters with the ground. Jonas drew closer to inspect her work. He favored his mother in the majority of his features, dark hair and light eyes, but his lopsided smile was his father's.

Saskia finished scraping the last bone clean with her small knife. The thought of Bechtrand made her heart ache. It had been three days since he had left with the search party. She would have gone with him herself had the council let her. She felt a tug on her cloak. “May I keep one of the small pieces?” He bounced on his heels. “Papa can carve a soldier for Adeline too!” Saskia dumped the bones into the shallow pit. “Perhaps he will another time.” She cringed at the small lie and poured the frigid casque of water over her hands.

It wasn’t uncommon for children to disappear near Belgrav, but in the time she had known Adeline, the child rarely left her mother’s skirts. Despite her oddities of chewing her braids and mewling around like a kitten, she had been a faithful playmate to Jonas. Saskia was as surprised as anyone when she went missing. She didn’t dare break his fragile heart with the disheartening news.

Jonas took her frozen hands in his small ones. “Are we going home now?” Saskia sighed. “One moment.” Saskia pulled out a charcoal stick from her cloak pocket. The runes were not as strong as Yarrow’s, for Saskia had no divine power in her blood. Nevertheless, she traced the symbols onto five separate ash trees as thickly as possible—five for each of the Old Gods: Iden, Iona, Valtrides, Fell, and Lorn. The last rune caused gooseflesh to rise on her skin. Lorn’s rune symbol was an eye that dripped black tears.

Belgrav was divided by two rivers cutting into the heart of the town. After they crossed the two wooden bridges Saskia watched Jonas admiring the stray dogs roaming the streets.

When her godmother had brought her to Belgrav twenty years prior, she had been in awe of her new home. The half-timbered houses were linked like a patchwork quilt. Narrow paths of cobblestone led to woodworking shops and the smell of fresh bread wafted from the communal oven in the square. She wished the people were as lovely as the town.

But as the years passed, she began to notice the hushed whispers and suspicious glances. Her godmother did her best to shield her from the rumors, but it didn’t keep Saskia from learning that she was considered a bad omen among the people…the child of a Hexe, a spellcaster, and the doom of her parents. There were many times she thought about leaving, but she couldn’t abandon Yarrow to their cruelty or leave Bechtrand. Although he was no man of wealth, he was respected and relied on by the town council, so she stayed.

Home was how she had left it, save for the spiral of smoke wisping from the stone flue. Sprigs of dried thyme and pansies adorned the crooked wooden shutters. She had hung the shutters herself, Bechtrand often teased her about them.

A smile lit her face. A candle was lit. She squeezed Jonas’s hand and ushered him to run ahead while she juggled the small basket on her hip. She turned the copper handle and froze over the threshold. In the corner of the room, a man bent over the fireplace. The light of the fire cast harsh, jagged shadows across his deep-set eyes. She drew the knife from her belt; the man raised his hands in submission. He had nine fingers. Saskia exhaled a breath, setting down the basket onto the wooden chair in the entry. “Otto, what are you doing here?” she swept back her hood. “Did they find Adeline?”

He brushed his large fingers through his ginger beard and avoided her gaze. “She is well.. turns out she wasn’t missing after all—“ His voice cracked. “She was asleep in the hayloft and snuck through her window without them noticing.” his eyes trailed to Jonas playing with his circle of fallen soldiers. “But Bech-“ his hands started trembling as he gripped the fireplace.

Saskia grasped his shoulder, “Otto? Where is he?” The silence threatened to swallow her whole. Her heart was porcelain, teetering on the edge of a shelf. “My husband?”

Otto met her gaze, his words escaping in a rasp.

“He’s dead.”