"Great! Thank you so much!" Father exclaimed, relief washing over him. A guide was exactly what we needed.

Before we could take a single step, a figure appeared without warning or sound. Nobody noticed his arrival. One moment the space behind us was empty; the next, it was occupied by a tall, cloaked man.

Rose looked completely stunned. Everyone froze as the man spoke, his voice low and grating.

"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to have seen a girl pass by with some woods?"

His presence was chilling. Who was this man?

Clara responded cautiously, "Could you be very specific? A lot of girls pass here with wood to use at their fireplace."

"Well, I was just at the lumber yard, and she dropped this while I was there," he said.

As he raised his right hand, holding a locket, his hands were terrifyingly large and covered with cuts. They had a lot of minor wounds on them—some healed, others still in the process—and he had scabs on his knuckles too.

What was this guy punching? I stared at the raw skin, appalled.

"Oh, my goodness, your hand! What happened?" Rose gasped.

Father added, "Yeah, man looks kinda rough. What happened?"

The man, seemingly unaware of the extent of the wounds, stared at his hand holding the locket. "Huh," he brought it closer to his face to examine it. "Ohh… that's probably from when the locket fell in the hole I saw it. Never mind about that. So, the girl?"

Clara took a look at the locket, but she wasn't really able to recognize who it belonged to. "Is there any other thing you know about her?" she asked.

He said, his words short and direct, "She is short, and she said something about an inn, and she had to deliver the wood there."

Wait, could he be talking about that brat, the innkeeper's daughter?

Clara finally understood. "Oh, you mean Anna."

He replied, "Anna. So that's her name."

Clara replied, "Yes."

"Well, give it to me. I can help you give it to her," Clara said, reaching out for the locket.

He immediately pulled back. "No, don't worry. I want to deliver this to Anna personally."

"Oh, okay, alright then," Clara said, and began describing the inn to him.

Everything about this man screamed dangerous. Was it even safe for her to give him this information? I thought all these thoughts, and before I knew it, the exchange was over.

"Thank you very much. I will be on my way now," he said, so calm and collected.

Father finally spoke up, asking the obvious question, "By the way, are you new around here?"

As the man kept walking away without turning back, he simply replied, "Yeah, you could say that."

As he walked away into the distance, something about that man felt ominous, as though… no. Judging someone because of their appearance is wrong. Let's just focus on getting to Granny Maera's place.

We began our journey to the lumberjack's home.

"We are almost there," Clara, the best tour guide ever, said to us.

Father showed his appreciation. "Thanks so much for taking some of your time to help us, really. Thanks."

Clara replied, "Oh, no worries. It's the least I can do, since Blackroot's reputation is on a big low now." She chuckled, laughing the seriousness away. "The town has just not been the same since the missing people. We all pray one day it all ends." But she sounded hopeful. "The royal from Manyblood made a promise he would help put an end to this."

Yeah, that annoying royal, Greyjoy. I wouldn't put my hopes on him if I was you, I thought to myself, knowing saying that aloud would be problematic.

"But if you don't feel safe here, why don't people just leave?" Rose stated the obvious question.

I jabbed Rose with my elbow on her thigh. She shouted, "Ouch! Why, you little brat, what did you do that for?"

I stared at her. Couldn't she see that wasn't the time to ask such questions? It was obvious people here would find that question insensitive.

Father playfully responded, "It's okay not to answer," he said politely.

"Oh, it's okay," Clara gave a weak smile, now feeling the weight of the question deeply. "I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it many times. Leave Blackroot. In fact, practically everyone has once, in their time here, thought about it."

Father then asked, "Then why do most choose to stay?"

She stopped mid-walk, turning to face us as the streetlights made from bright crystal shards illuminated her face. "Some of us still hope our loved ones would return. We know the hope could be all a lie, but it's all we have. Just knowing you have someone in your family just disappearing into thin air, no trace of body, nothing—vanished before tomorrow morning—keeps you wondering…"

Father asked intrigued, "But what about people who weren't affected by the missing people issues? Why do they stay?

Rose continued. "As you aren't aware, other towns had been specifically instructed not to allow anyone from Blackroot into their town, as they believe it's a curse and don't want to bring it upon themselves."

"What? They are that cruel?" Rose exclaimed. "They couldn't be serious! How does that even make any sense?"

"I know, but that's the reality," Clara said. "Many of us had left, just to come back. And when we do," she sobbed softly, "the only way to feel safe is to act as though the whole situation would never happen to you."

"But that won't work! The danger is real, come on!" I said aloud, frustrated by their passivity.

"No, Astraga," Father said. "If you look at it carefully, you come to understand." Father continued, "People convince themselves the danger 'won't reach them.' They cling to routine."

"But why?" I asked, my frustration mounting. "It made no sense. They should actively fight it, accept that reality," I thought.

But Father replied, "Denial is easier than facing the truth."

"We know what the truth is, but…" Clara said, looking down at the ground, her voice barely a whisper. "But that's the only sane thing to do. The only sane response we have to give…"

I was speechless. What was this feeling of hopelessness that came from her? It was a dull, heavy cloak settling over the entire town.

Clara looked at my father with seriousness, her weak smile completely gone. "Whatever brought you to Blackroot, Once done you guys should leave as quickly as possible."

Father could only say one thing: "Understood."

It was a long, quiet walk to the lumberjack's shop. Any more questions would have only led to more despair for Clara.

We soon arrived at a small, open field filled with logs. Some were neatly chopped in half, while others were just randomly placed on the ground, exactly as expected of a lumberyard in a small town.

"We are here," Clara announced, pointing at the small wooden shack ahead in the field. "Strange, I usually see him chopping wood around this time at night. Must be indoors."

As we got closer to the shack, a light inside was visible. Father asked, "By the way, what's his name?"

Clara replied, "Oh, yeah, his name is Jack."

"How ironic, a lumberjack named Jack!" Father chuckled.

We in town usually joked about it a lot. She also chuckled.

As we now got even closer, Rose reminded us, "Okay, he doesn't like noises, as it disturbs his focus, so let's stay quiet."

We all replied, "Alright."

Clara got to the half-opened door. "Hello, Jack?" No one responded. She knocked lightly. "Hello, is anybody there?" Still no answer. She then said, "Coming in," gently opening the door wider, and we all followed.

We saw nothing but tools hanging around, some mounted on the walls, others on a table a typical lumberjack fashion. To the left of us was another door that led to another room. Clara replied, "Must be in there."

We followed. As we got closer, before we could open the door, I heard it. In fact, we all heard it.

"You promised this was going to be the last time. We can't keep doing this." The male voice was strained and clearly frustrated.

"Was there someone inside?" Father whispered, curious.

I was also curious. Clara looked unsure of what to say. She shrugged and opened the door.

Jack was standing, looking toward the corner of the room to his left, as though staring at someone we couldn't yet see from our position.

Clara only saw him and asked, "Who were you talking to?"

Jack, facing us, immediately replied, though his reaction was a bit delayed. "Ohh, Clara, it's you. What are you doing here so late?"

She replied, smiling, "Just brought these people. They want to know where Granny Maera's home is."

He smirked. "Really? Why?" he said.

She answered, "They say they're close friends."

"Ohh, Granny has friends! Wow."

"Ummm, who were you talking to?" Father asked, stretching the word, looking around. Clara asked as well. "Yeah, we heard you talking. Thought you were alone, aren't you?"

"Oh, that?" Jack dismissed the question. "I wasn't talking to anyone.

"Meeeh!"

its Just Merhh."

A goat suddenly came out of the corner, rushing to his legs. He bent down and pet the goat. "It's just Merhh. He's been troubling me for treats."

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