The night felt heavier than usual.
Not because it was dark—
but because the silence itself was watching.
Kalin, the small child, sat near the faint fire inside the wooden shelter. His calm blue eyes followed the movement of the flames, yet his heart was far away. Something pressed against his chest, a strange feeling he had no name for.
As if the air had changed.
As if the world was holding its breath.
Anya stood on the other side, arranging the little food she had managed to gather. Her movements were slow—too precise. Every time kalin glanced at her, he noticed a tension that didn't suit her. Her hand trembled slightly, her gaze slipping toward the wooden door, then quickly returning as if nothing had happened.
"Anya?"
His voice was soft… a child trying to be brave.
She froze for a fraction of a second.
Just one second—but it was enough for kalin to feel that his question wasn't ordinary.
"Yes, my little one?"
A warm smile appeared, but it never reached her eyes.
He stayed silent.
He wanted to ask her about the feeling… about the sound he had heard moments ago… about the shadow that passed by the window.
But the words got stuck in his throat.
Outside, the wind moved.
Or at least, that's what it seemed.
But wind doesn't leave footprints.
Kalin slowly stood up and approached the door.
Anya turned suddenly.
"Don't open it!"
The words escaped her faster than she meant them to.
He froze.
Looked at her… and saw fear.
Not only fear for him—
but fear of something she recognized.
"Why?"
An innocent question… yet it pierced her heart.
She hurried toward him, knelt down, and placed her hands on his small shoulders. She looked into his eyes for a long time—far too long.
"Sometimes… the past comes back knocking,"
she whispered, as if the walls could hear.
"And sometimes… we have to leave it outside."
Kalin didn't understand, but he felt the weight of her words.
Suddenly—
Tap.
A soft sound.
Not from inside.
The fire flickered.
Anya pulled kalin tightly into her chest.
"Stay here."
But kalin… heard it.
Breathing.
Not the breathing of an ordinary person—steady, cold, close.
The shadow passed again.
This time, it wasn't an illusion.
Through a small crack in the wood, kalin saw an eye.
Only one… watching.
His eyes widened.
He opened his mouth to scream—
but Anya quickly covered it with her hand.
"No sound,"
she whispered, her voice shaking.
The knocking began.
Quiet… then stronger.
Tap… Tap… Tap.
As if someone were testing the patience of the place.
Anya grabbed a small knife near the food. Not to attack—
but to protect.
Carl felt her heart racing.
Faster than ever before.
Then—
silence.
No knocking.
No wind.
Nothing.
Heavy seconds passed.
Carl felt something stir inside him… fear mixed with a small, unfamiliar anger.
Suddenly—
the back window burst open.
A shadow leaped inside—fast, light, soundless.
Anya reacted instantly, pushing kalin behind her.
The knife rose—
but the shadow did not attack.
It only stood there.
Watching.
It didn't speak.
It didn't smile.
Yet its presence alone made the air suffocate.
Its eyes stopped on Carl.
Studied him.
As if confirming something.
Then it pulled something from its pocket—
an old piece of cloth marked with a familiar symbol.
Kalin felt something shake deep inside him.
That symbol…
He had seen it before.
In a dream.
In a memory that wasn't his.
Anya gasped.
Stepped back.
"No…"
She whispered a name—one she never meant to say aloud.
The shadow turned to leave.
Before disappearing, it paused…
and looked at her.
As if to say:
We know.
Then it vanished as it had come.
Silence returned.
But this time… it was broken.
Kalin stood still, staring at the place where the shadow had been.
Then he turned to Anya.
"Who was he?"
"Why did he know me?"
"And what is that symbol?"
Anya didn't answer right away.
She sank to the floor, as if her legs had given up.
"kalin…"
She hesitated.
Then said in a broken voice,
"There are things… if you learn them now, they will hurt you."
He approached her and sat in front of her.
He was no longer just a frightened child…
He was a child seeking the truth.
"I'm not weak,"
he said with a calmness strange for his age.
She looked at him…
and saw something far greater than a child.
The danger hadn't disappeared.
It had revealed itself.
And outside…
there were other eyes.
Waiting.