Rain came first in hesitant drops, tapping against the roof like cautious fingers. By the time the sun should have risen, the sky was already drowned in a solid wall of black. Thunder grumbled low, rolling across the hills with the weight of something alive.
She sat on the edge of her bed, shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders, eyes fixed on the single candle in front of her. The wick trembled, its flame shrinking with each gust that seeped through the warped wood of the hut.
The child shifted again — not a simple kick this time, but a slow turning, as if adjusting to face something. The sensation made her stomach tighten. It was not pain exactly, but it was deliberate. Purposeful.
The crow perched just inside the doorframe, its feathers slick from the damp. It did not shake itself dry. It simply stared into the storm beyond the open crack of the door, head jerking slightly as if following movement only it could see.
The wind howled suddenly, rattling the shutters. A hollow thump came from somewhere outside — like something heavy falling onto the wet earth. She rose, heart quickening, and pressed her palm to the door. She didn't open it. Not yet.
That was when she heard it.
Beneath the rain's hiss, a faint rhythm — not the steady beat of hooves or the uneven clatter of cart wheels, but something slower, heavier. Footsteps. One after another, squelching in the mud, drawing nearer.
Her breath caught. The child inside her stilled. The crow let out a single, sharp cry.
The footsteps stopped just outside the hut. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then… a knock. Three times. Slow. Deliberate.
She backed away from the door, her hands clutching her belly as if shielding it from sight. The voice that followed was almost too soft to hear over the storm, but it slid into her ears with the clarity of a whispered secret.
> "You cannot hide it forever."
Lightning split the sky, its flash leaking through the cracks in the walls. When her vision cleared, the space by the door was empty. Only the rain remained.
The crow shifted its gaze toward her — not questioning, not warning. Simply watching.
Outside, the footsteps had already turned away… but not far.