Shin was helping one of his siblings carry water when it happened.
It wasn't a loud sound. Not a scream. It was more like when someone steps wrong and almost falls, but manages to steady themselves. A brief mistake. An instant.
The bucket slipped from his hand.
The water spread across the dirt floor, forming an irregular pattern before disappearing. Shin stood still, staring at it, feeling his arm tingle.
— Pay attention — his sibling complained, more irritated than angry.
— It was an accident.
They grabbed another bucket. They continued.
Later, close to midday, Shin went to the far edge of the village, where some houses stood almost pressed against the forest. He liked that place because hardly anyone went there. Only the elders and those who had things to do far from the center.
He sat on a broken fence and watched.
That was when he saw the marks.
They weren't clear footprints. Not deep. They were like scratches in the ground, irregular, following a crooked line between the trees. Shin frowned.
They looked recent.
He knelt down and ran a finger over one of them. The earth was still loose. Someone—or something—had passed through there not long ago.
He thought about calling someone. But who? And say what?
"There are some strange scratches there"?
It sounded foolish.
He stood up and followed the marks for a few steps, just out of curiosity. He didn't really enter the forest. He stopped before the trees closed off the path.
The air inside felt different. Not colder. Just… still.
Shin took a step back.
At that moment, he heard voices.
Not close. Distant. Adults talking, but too low to understand. He hurried back to the village, with that feeling again, the same one from the river.
In the afternoon, the village was more restless than usual. People coming and going, short conversations, glances that lingered too long. Shin tried to play, but no one seemed to have much patience.
Ryo arrived early.
He brought no game.
He entered the house without removing the knife from his belt. Hana noticed immediately.
— Did something happen?
— No — he answered.
Then he added, as if it were something else:
— Not yet.
They spoke quietly that night. Shin tried to listen, but only caught fragments.
"… trails…"
"… people who aren't from here…"
"… better not to spread it…"
When the meal was over, Ryo stood up.
— Starting tomorrow, no one goes out alone.
— Not even the children? — Hana asked.
Ryo looked at Shin.
— Especially the children.
No one argued.
That night, Shin took a long time to fall asleep. He listened to the sounds of the house, the wind slipping through the cracks, the breathing of his siblings.
When he finally closed his eyes, he dreamed of the river.
In the dream, the water flowed backward.
And no one seemed to find that strange.