Another plunge into the freezing water. Eni had long since lost count of the rivers she'd had to cross. A sharp, metallic scrape sounded somewhere behind her, cutting through the noise of the current. Something had picked up her trail again. Eni didn't turn around. She just kept swimming, hammering one thought into her head: If I don't see it, it doesn't exist.

  When her fingers touched the damp earth near the house, she froze. Carefully, inch by inch, Eni raised her head above the edge of the bank.

  There was a man. A regular farmer, working in his garden. And right behind his back loomed it—a four-meter black thing with a pumpkin for a head. The creature stood frozen, like a twisted statue, radiating primal threat. Eni jerked back, her heart skipping a beat. A minute later, she glanced again: the farmer kept working, as if a nightmare from the abyss weren't standing right behind him.

  "Maybe... I've lost my mind," she whispered through parched lips.

  Gathering what was left of her will, Eni stepped out of the shadows. "Um... Hello?" her voice trembled. Silence. The farmer didn't even twitch an ear. She moved closer, repeated louder, but he remained deaf to her presence, like code with no interaction scripted.

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  The cold seeped into her bones. Her wet clothes clung to her body, pulling out the last crumbs of warmth. "Um... I'm... I'm cold. I'm going inside, okay?"

  No answer. Eni pushed the door open. Inside was cramped, smelling of leather and dried flowers on the bedside table. The coziness of the place felt dangerous, uncomfortable. She noticed another door leading to the field and cautiously cracked it open.

  In the wheat field, among the golden stalks, moved the living scarecrow she'd seen earlier. Its horrific, frozen smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear. It didn't attack—it just slowly wandered in circles, noticing nothing around it. Eni slammed the door shut, leaning her back against it.

  The world wasn't just aggressive. It was full of indifferent monsters.

  Something rattled in her chest. Eni doubled over in a fit of heavy coughing. Her body was starting to give out—the endless swims in freezing water and the dampness had taken their toll. She was burning up.

  With trembling fingers, Eni began to undo her tunic. The fabric, heavy with water, hit the floor with a soft thud. Her stockings and undergarments followed. She stood completely naked in a stranger's house, with creatures roaming outside the window and the owner of the house vanished.

  Eni walked to the door, meaning to lock it, so no one would see her like this—defenseless, naked, broken by sickness. But her hand stopped an inch from the handle. The very thought of someone walking in and finding her in this state stirred a strange, viscous feeling inside her. It was disgusting, terrifying... and yet it made her heart pound with deafening force.

  She never locked the door. Silently, trying not to look at her own scars—which were healing far too fast for a normal person—Eni climbed into the stranger's bed and closed her eyes to the loud, feverish beating of her own heart.