# Coolness

Erick Poladov

What is the true origin of the Santa Claus myth?

An old legend tells of a remote northern village that survives the bitter winter by offering the best of their harvest to appease the evil spirit who rules over frost and the souls of the dead.

The villagers adhere to this custom religiously, for failure to comply invokes a deeper, unspoken clause in their ancient contract — a secret that has become the single greatest terror of their lives.

But what if one year, the harvest is simply not enough?

© Erick Poladov, 2026


ISBN 978-5-0065-0478-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

## Prologue

Few people in the village lived past their seventh decade. Friedrich was the first person to do so in the last half century. He was sixty-two, sitting on the porch of a barn on a clear autumn day, with a dozen and a half children crowded around him — the oldest of whom was not yet twelve. They asked him only one question: “Why work so hard, only to throw away huge reserves of harvest that could feed the entire village for a month?”

Studying the children’s curious eyes, Friedrich began:

— I will tell you, but I hope you hear this story only from me, and that you never have to witness anything like it. I was thirteen then. I heard this legend… Or rather, it seemed like a legend, because everyone spoke of it all the time, and adults mentioned it with grave expressions, but nothing like that ever actually happened. My peers and I never saw any evidence that Nix existed.

— Nix? — nine-year-old Penelope repeated, questioningly.

— Yes, darling. That is the name of the evil spirit. He controls the element of frost, and the souls of the dead obey him. He appears every year on the first full moon after the first snow. As soon as the first snow falls, the entire village collects a hundred bags of ripe fruit, loads them into carts, and takes them deep into the woods on a cold, frosty night, as far as possible, so as not to let Nix get close to the village. This is how the evil spirit receives an offering, in return for which he does not plague the residents of our village.

— What if he doesn’t receive the offering? — Penelope pressed.

After these words, tears welled up in Friedrich’s eyes, as he recalled the events he had witnessed in his youth. He tried to find the strength to continue the story, a lone tear tracing a path down his left cheek.

## 1. Borrowed Warmth

Summer was always short in these parts, and while the warm days lasted, they hurried to lie down among the tall grass near the riverbank in the sun, where no one would disturb them. Erikson was twenty years old, and he had already laid out his plans for life. The following spring, he and Penelope decided to get married. In the meantime, he could not take his eyes off those blue eyes, her straight chestnut hair, and her full lips. Erikson often called her Squirrel because the local forest had squirrels the same color as Penelope’s hair; in the entire village, only her mother and sister shared that color. She was a year younger, but slightly taller than Erikson.

He pressed his lips to hers again and kissed her, feeling the sun warm the skin on Penelope’s face. She reached out to return the kiss, then rolled onto her side and, propping her head up with her hand, said:

— Maybe we can go to the lake tomorrow?

Erikson sighed with annoyance and replied:

— No, Squirrel. I’m afraid not. Tomorrow is our shift.

Penelope was not upset at all.

— Well, no big deal. My father seems to be working for several days in a row. I’ll go with him tomorrow. — Then Penelope leaned in close to Erikson’s face and almost whispered: — So you won’t get away from me anyway.

Erikson abruptly pressed his lips to the girl’s neck and, feigning an animal bite, laid her on her back. Penelope screamed, choking back her laughter, and Erikson, playfully pressing his teeth to Squirrel’s neck, once again felt the girl’s skin warm beneath the sun’s rays. He continued to hold Penelope’s wrists pinned, stopping her from resisting, and kept devouring her neck with his lips, moving as low as her dress allowed. Squirrel shook her head and pressed her chin to her chest, but it was all useless. Erikson found vulnerable spots and pressed his lips there lightly, then let Penelope feel the edges of his teeth. As soon as he left her neck alone, Penelope abruptly stopped screaming. Now muffled laughter escaped her lips, giving way to a joyful smile. The sunbeams falling directly on her eyes prevented her from clearly making out Erikson’s face. He couldn’t get enough of her full lips for a few more moments; then he pressed his own to hers and began to slide across them.

Meanwhile, Andreas, Erikson’s father, had finished carving a wooden boat for his youngest son. They were walking along the bank near the field, where the boy launched the boat. The water level in the river had dropped noticeably over the summer, the current was weak, and the boat was not moving as fast as seven-year-old Willie wanted. Noticing the boat’s sluggish movement, he looked at his father and said:

— I wish winter would come soon.

Willie’s favorite pastime was sledding. Back in the spring, when a board on the old sled cracked, Andreas promised Willie he would make him a new one before autumn. But once it became clear that the drought would require working in the fields twice as much as usual, very little time was left for other things. However, Andreas was determined to keep his promise, as this was the only way he could persuade the youngest of his three sons to be patient until winter, when the first snow would fall and cover the hill, making it ready for the village children to rush down.

Meanwhile, the work in the field was in full swing. The rains did not come, and the river level continued to drop. Once again, forty-three-year-old Karl filled the buckets and was about to head toward the crops, when Wilhelm, who was eight years his junior, approached him and said:

— Go on, take a rest. I’ll take over for you.

Despite the fact that Karl did not say a word — which was typical for him — he was nevertheless glad to see Wilhelm. The third day in a row was taking its toll on his body, and Karl already doubted that he would be able to return to the field tomorrow.

The villagers sowed, weeded the soil, and watered the crops together. It was a single common field, the harvest from which was similarly stored in a common barn, and from there, everyone took provisions when necessary. Individually, the villagers kept only chickens and horses, as livestock was also raised through common effort. Nix was the reason for all this. To appease him, the offering had to be presented by the entire village, and so, to ensure no one had to give more or less than another, the residents worked together on the common field, selecting the most suitable soil for sowing.

His legs were already weak, and he was not able to carry water for another day. But Karl was truly sorry that he would not be able to work in the field tomorrow. In the village, everyone was taught from childhood that they had to work like the devil if necessary, and try to collect as much of the harvest as possible. Now, for Karl, this was a true commandment. However, only a few like him remained among the villagers. As generations passed, practicality and cold calculation prevailed. Karl always wanted a son, but God blessed him with two daughters. Having suffered a terrible fever after her second birth, Regina was unable to conceive a third time. Karl was not destined to father a boy, but he tried to raise his daughters to accept a man’s will as unquestionable. Even in his relationship with Regina, he began to behave more harshly so that their daughters would internalize this kind of relationship between a man and a woman as the only acceptable norm.

Meanwhile, Karl’s thoughts were preoccupied with how hard things would be for the entire village. He was worried about the lack of rain and how meager the harvest would be this year. And the sun was too warm this year.

## 2. Sweetness of Dusk

Dusk had settled. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and Erikson and Penelope were walking back to the village along a forest path. Penelope folded her arms across her chest, feeling the cold begin to creep in. They walked in silence until Erikson spoke:

— Hey, Squirrel!

Penelope looked at him and said:

— What?

Erikson pointed his index finger forward and said:

— I said look, squirrel!

Penelope glanced ahead and saw a squirrel dart past, then nudged Erikson in the shoulder and said:

— Oh, you!

Suddenly, a crack sounded. Something flashed behind the trees.

They slowed abruptly, stopping completely. Penelope stepped to the side, hiding behind Erikson and peering out over his shoulder.

The figure flashed through the trees once more. A continuous series of sounds — of breaking branches and rustling leaves — followed.

— Who’s there? — Erikson asked in a half-whisper, a tremor in his voice.

The unknown figure began to move in their direction, and then a voice rang out:

— What are you two doing out so late?

Ludwig stepped onto the path. He looked to be about twenty-five, though he was actually only sixteen. From an early age, the young man had been large for his years. He was three years Penelope’s junior and four years Erikson’s, yet he stood a head taller than both, with broad shoulders and impressively sized hands.

Hearing the familiar voice, Erikson and Penelope breathed a sigh of relief. The autumn before last, they had stumbled upon two wolves in these parts, but they were lucky then because Andreas had been with them, and he carried a double-barreled shotgun. Predators were almost never encountered in this part of the forest, where the path to the lake, river, and fields ran. They mostly lived on the side opposite the village; if someone went hunting, they had to cover a huge distance to find a wolf or a bear among the hares, deer, and wild boars.

— If you sneak up on me like that all the time, I’ll definitely stop walking out here after dark — Erikson replied.

— Oh, come on — Ludwig said soothingly. He held the strap of the rifle slung over his shoulder with his left hand, and in the other, he carried a sack, which he immediately opened. — It’s good that I ran into you, by the way. — He reached into the sack and pulled out a shot hare, which he extended to Erikson. — Here. I hope this smooths over our little misunderstanding.

— Oh! Now this I thank you for — Erikson said in a satisfied tone.

— And for you, beautiful — Ludwig said to Penelope, handing her the second hare. — Its skin will make a fine hat for the winter.

In response, Penelope kissed Ludwig on his cheek.

— I don’t understand — Erikson protested, feigning offense. — Are you trying to steal my girl?

Before Ludwig could respond, Penelope cut in:

— The day you learn to hunt, I’ll kiss you a thousand times.

Despite Ludwig’s menacing size, the young man had a good heart, which everyone knew well. He had spent half the day hunting, shot four hares, and easily parted with half his catch, making him a little happier in that moment. If a soul could be given size and viewed, then Ludwig’s would be as massive as he was. Greed and selfishness were alien to him. The only thing he was ever stingy about was the ammunition for his rifle, which he tried not to squander while shooting.

The three of them continued walking towards the village.

Just as they emerged from the forest, they saw ten-year-old Ursula running toward them. Before she even reached Penelope, she began to shout:

— Dad said to tell you… — but the sight of the hare’s carcass in her older sister’s hand interrupted Ursula’s speech: — Ohhh…

Ursula had instantly forgotten the important message she was supposed to deliver, but Penelope already understood what Ursula had meant. At such a late hour, the only thing their father could be ordering was for them to hurry home and stop wandering God knows where.

— Okay, — Penelope said, turning back toward the boys after taking a couple of steps forward. — See you tomorrow. — Then she addressed Ludwig personally: — Thanks again, Breadwinner. — With that, Penelope quickened her pace, taking Ursula’s hand.

When Penelope was already a good distance away, Erikson spoke, not without sarcasm:

— She called you a Breadwinner. You’ll definitely steal my girl soon.

— What do I have to do with it?

— Even though she doesn’t call me that. Now I’m starting to think she doesn’t consider me a man.

— Ah, come on. We can go for a bear tomorrow, and then tell her you shot it.

Erikson slapped his palm on Ludwig’s huge shoulder, then they laughed and continued on their way.

On the outskirts of the village, Penelope and Ursula met eight-year-old Wanda. She was carrying a basket full of wild strawberries that was almost as big as she was.

She ran to meet them, and Penelope immediately asked:

— Hey, what are you doing out here so late?

— Mom knows. I just stayed out a little late.

Penelope glanced around the evening gloom and said:

— A little?

Still, Penelope perfectly understood the girl; at that age, she herself had run anywhere that was more interesting than her own yard and had likewise been in no particular hurry to return home.

— Help yourselves — Wanda said, holding out the basket.

Ursula took a couple of berries from the heaped top, while Penelope ran her fingers over the wild strawberries, estimating the quantity by touch in the semi-darkness, before she asked:

— How much time did you spend gathering all this?

— I just pick fast. — Wanda giggled for a moment, then added: — And I also know all the secret spots.

— Come on, confess! — Penelope threatened playfully, pinching the tip of Wanda’s nose with her fingers. The girl laughed. — I’m stealing just one — Penelope added, taking a berry from the basket.

— Take more — Wanda urged.

— Well, since you insist…

Penelope put a couple more berries in her mouth, then hurried the girls on their way home.

As they approached the house, Penelope handed the hare’s carcass to Ursula and said:

— Go on inside. Tell them I’ll be right there; I just need to walk Wanda home.

Ursula ran toward the house, clutching the hare’s carcass to herself — a carcass that seemed almost bigger than she was.

Meanwhile, Penelope continued down the street, and Wanda continued to share her wild strawberries.

Noticing Penelope pass by, seventeen-year-old Ian, their neighbor, hid behind the trunk of an apple tree, unable to take his eyes off her even in the dim light. Since childhood, he had been unable to stop admiring her. In his innermost dreams, he envisioned their future life together, where she would bear his children and share his bed every night. Ian’s mind was reluctant to return to reality, though in truth, it never returned entirely. A part of him already literally lived apart from his body — where he held the neighbor’s girl and walked with her under the moon. Penelope herself never engaged in long conversations with her neighbor. She always greeted him, like everyone else, and sometimes even asked how he was doing. Ian felt that when she asked about his day, he was being given a perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with the beauty and take the first step toward making his fantasies at least a little bit closer to reality. But Penelope only asked about his day out of politeness — when she was tired of simply saying “hello” every day and wanted to say something new. But every time, Ian froze when the beautiful girl asked about his day. He was overcome with trembling, his thoughts confused, and he could only utter “fine” or “okay”. After those replies, Penelope walked on, and Ian felt ready to hang himself because she left so soon. He painfully felt every inch the chasm separating him from his dream widened. And now he watched the distance between them grow, as Penelope’s silhouette became less and less distinct in the twilight.

— Ian! — barked his father, Martin.

The boy started in surprise.

— Get inside.

He started toward the porch, continuing to glance back every few feet, though Penelope’s silhouette had already dissolved into the gloom.

At that very moment, Wilhelm was approaching the house, returning from the barn. He noticed two approaching figures, recognizing his youngest daughter in one of them.

Seeing her father, Wanda quickened her pace and ran, calling out as she went:

— Dad, look! — Wanda held out the basket, beaming over the quantity of berries she had managed to collect.

Wilhelm squatted down, kissed his daughter on the forehead, and said with feeling:

— Wow! Admit it, who did you steal these from?

— Hey! — Wanda huffed. — I’m not a thief.

A smile flickered across Wilhelm’s face. He kissed Wanda again and hurried her inside.

— Thank you — he said to Penelope.

— Hi, Penelope! — Ava called from the doorway, hugging Wanda. — Will you come in? We’re having fried chicken and pheasant.

— Thanks, but maybe some other time. I have to go; they’re already waiting for me.

## 3. Lead Eyelids, Steel Hands

— When I say it’s time to go home, it means you have to go home. Straight home — Karl scolded his eldest daughter in a low but menacing tone.

— I was walking Wanda home. She…

— I DON’T CARE! — Karl shouted at the top of his lungs, slamming his palm on the table. His shout was so loud that Regina, sitting nearby, and Ursula, at the far end of the table, flinched. Penelope, standing right next to her father with her eyes fixed on the floor, barely flinched. — It’s enough for me that I have to work in the fields like a dog every day! Enough!

Penelope continued to stand, her eyes fixed on the floor. Regina and Ursula tensed, their hearts pounding in the moments of Karl’s wrath.

— Sit! — Karl ordered.

Penelope quietly went to the plate that stood to her father’s left, across from Regina, and sat, maintaining a guilt-ridden appearance. Her eyes were difficult to see, even in the light of the oil lamp on the table, as strands of hair partially covered her face, and so Karl missed her almost peaceful gaze.

— When we finish, you’ll clear and wash all the dishes. — Karl then looked at Regina: — And you, straight to bed. — With a tired sigh, Karl concluded: — Let’s eat.

Penelope only reached for her spoon after everyone else had started eating, ensuring her father wouldn’t think she was sitting down to dinner as if nothing had happened, uncaring of his disciplinary shouts.

Karl did not often vent such displeasure toward his eldest daughter. It typically stemmed from accumulated exhaustion, and as Penelope matured, both physically and emotionally, she began to notice and understand the root cause of her father’s sudden rage. Consequently (whether from habit or the developing patience of a young woman), she no longer took such outbursts of indignation to heart. Penelope admitted she gave more reason for his displeasure than anyone else in the house. She was far from puritanical manners and behaved too freely to be called the modest girl Karl desired. She was not a shrinking violet; she effortlessly connected with everyone, readily engaged in conversation, loved to chat, smiled, and laughed. Crucially, she went on dates, having decided on her own fiancé rather than waiting for her father to choose for her. She understood that her father needed to find someone to vent on and relieve his tension in those moments. She didn’t complain that he always chose her as a target, since she would have disliked it even more if he had addressed her mother or sister in the same manner. Furthermore, as Regina had told her since childhood, Karl had always dreamed of a firstborn son, and Penelope, by her mere existence, reminded her father every day that she was the one who had stolen that dream by being born. Karl understood that no one was to blame, and Penelope knew she was not at fault. Yet everyone also understood that people bury their dreams very reluctantly, and sometimes a lifetime isn’t enough to accept the will of fate.

Regina, unlike her husband, did not try to impose any qualities on her daughter, nor did she harbor any specific expectations. Penelope helped her with the housework; she never objected to the tasks Regina assigned and was very quick in her work. She had willingly helped when Ursula was small, babysitting her sister from morning till night. To Regina, her eldest daughter had grown into a capable girl — hard-working, silver-tongued, and without bad habits. She desired nothing more. Whenever Penelope wanted to slip out but knew her father would object, she would ask her mother for permission. Regina would always agree to cover for her, telling Karl she had sent their daughter on an errand that would take nearly half a day to complete.


While Penelope walked home, having politely declined the dinner invitation, Ava hurried to the girls, who were desperate to pounce on Wanda’s wild strawberries. Wanda set the basket down on the floor to show off to her sisters, who instantly swarmed it with wide eyes and excited cries. Ava immediately rushed to tear her daughters away from the berries:

— Now, quickly wash your hands and get to the table.

— Oh, Mom! — Irma, the thirteen-year-old eldest, pleaded in an indignant, yet imploring tone.

— Quickly, I said — Ava repeated in a firmer tone, taking the basket of berries. — You’ll ruin your appetite. We’ll have dinner, and then you can gorge on the wild strawberries.

The second oldest was eleven-year-old Astrid, followed by ten-year-old Frida, and finally, Wanda, the youngest. All four ran to the basin to quickly wet their hands; no one planned to fuss over washing, eager to swallow a couple of small bites at dinner just to tick off the box and move on to the wild strawberries. Meanwhile, Ava hid the basket of berries away from her daughters’ sight. At the mere sight of them, she herself felt a fierce craving for at least a few berries. More accurately, it was the child in her womb that wanted them. She was thirty-two and still desperately wanted to give Wilhelm a son. Whenever she brought this up with Wilhelm, he always replied that he was perfectly happy, being the only man in the entire village who lived in a “garden of five women”. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms tightly around her, cupped her stomach with his palms, and pressed his nose into Ava’s neck. Taking a deep breath, he murmured:

— How about YOU become my dinner tonight? You smell much better than this pheasant.

Ava was smiling, but it was more from the tickling sensation of Wilhelm’s nose on her neck than from his words. She barely managed to suppress a laugh, whispering:

— Alright, stop. Let’s sit down already. You can devour me in bed. I’ll be your dessert.

Wilhelm jutted out his chin. Ava turned her face toward him, kissed him on the lips, and added:

— Okay, let’s go.


— Boys! Time for dinner! — Charlotte called out loudly so that each of the four men in their family would hear her.

Willie was already at the table, his chin pressed against the tabletop. A grimace of boredom still clung to his face. He longed for winter to arrive, and his boat no longer held any interest for him.

Just as Charlotte placed a dish of vegetable stew in the center of the table, the middle brother, fifteen-year-old Morten, approached. Erikson followed, and then Andreas. Before taking his seat at the head of the table, he stroked his fingers through the hair of his youngest son, who was inwardly consumed by melancholy.

Everyone embarked on the final task of the day — emptying the food stores.

— I saw Penelope — Charlotte began, serving herself a porridge of rice, nuts, and beans. — She was returning without you. Did you two quarrel?

— No. Ursula just came running and said her father ordered her to haul butt home.

— Couldn’t you have hauled butt faster and walked the girls home? — Charlotte countered indignantly.

— We ran into Ludwig. He gave us a hare, and out of the deepest respect for him, I simply couldn’t leave him alone, thereby offering him a personal insult. So I decided to keep him company.

— Yes, — Charlotte replied with a hint of sarcasm, — Penelope will certainly get a fine husband.

— Leave it — Andreas said calmly to his wife. — Penelope is a modern girl. There’s little that scares her.

— See? — Erikson interjected in a satisfied voice.

— But the fact that our son grew up without good manners… — Andreas added, looking at Erikson. The father’s words caused a smirk to appear on Morten’s face, who sat across from his older brother.

— Stop worrying, both of you, — Erikson said casually. — If something were wrong, she’d tell me everything she thought of me to my face. Since she hasn’t complained, it means I’m not a man to her, but a dream. So everything’s fine. — Erikson then looked at his youngest brother: — Willie, pass the cheese.

— Did you hear that, Charlotte? — Andreas asked pompously. — We raised not a son, but the ultimate dream. — He then looked at Erikson: — Be careful not to overdo it, or your girlfriend might find herself a new dream.

— Exactly — Morten suddenly spoke up. — I, for one, am free.

Andreas pointed his spoon at his middle son and said:

— Well, you’ve already overdone it.

Erikson said in a completely nonchalant tone:

— Dad, pay no attention. What is he even capable of? Giving a woman a bouquet of dill?

— Willie, why aren’t you eating? — Andreas asked in an encouraging voice. — Come on, go on. We’ll start making sleds in a couple of days.

At the mention of the sleds, Willie lifted his head and reached for the plate of porridge.

— Let me help you — Charlotte said, filling Willie’s plate. She then took the dish and went to the pot to serve a new batch.


Ian entered the house, where the table was already set and everyone was waiting for him. His mind was still entirely occupied with Penelope, so he didn’t immediately hear his father’s question about washing his hands.

Martin was far from blind and knew exactly what his eldest son was constantly obsessing over. He was irritated by Ian staring at the neighbor’s girl as if he planned to ask her on a date any minute. Though Martin never said it openly, he sometimes held the girl responsible for his son becoming so detached from reality. He no longer tried to condemn the boy for his daydreams — not because he was trying to avoid scolding his son on every occasion, but because he simply saw no more point. Such was Ian’s character: he often immersed himself in his dreams, ready to remain stuck there for life. His two younger children, Kolinda, who was only a year Ian’s junior, and Klaus, who was three years younger, experienced the same strict approach to upbringing from their father. Martin firmly believed that a man should not simply manage a family, but suppress all dissent and liberties. He desperately wanted to forge a real man out of his eldest son, but for the last couple of years, Martin had realized he was unlikely to succeed. No matter how hard he pushed, Ian could not transform from a soft, peace-loving teenager into the stern man Martin envisioned — a man ready to establish his own laws in the house and command others. This approach also failed with Klaus, who didn’t understand what his father wanted from him and simply took his older brother as an example. He didn’t daydream, but he also showed no sign of the strength of character Martin desired. Kolinda was, perhaps, the only one of the three children who became what Martin wanted: an obedient girl who unquestioningly fulfilled any requirement, resigned to her role as a woman who did not even attempt to consider alternatives for a different life. In regard to his daughter, however, it was Magdalena who had largely succeeded. If the children feared Martin, they sincerely loved Magdalena, feeling her mother’s warmth and love. She was a year younger than Martin, but his complete opposite. It was largely thanks to Magdalena that their children avoided the kind of upbringing common in an army barracks. Although she was a faithful and docile wife who fully accepted her husband’s will, she always consciously sought to smooth over the emotional roughness left by the harsh and demanding hand of their father.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in their house were always the same: not a single word was spoken at the table. This is why meals in this family took such a short time that, if they wished, they would still have had time to run to the other families in the village and help polish off their dinners.

## 4. Between Wine and the Abyss

The harvest was almost completely gathered. Only a few more days of hard work remained before they could start the winter sowing. Everything was going as planned.

It was the time when the village elders — the heads of the families — had a tradition of gathering in the barn late in the evenings after supper to play “Tower,” dice, and drink wine.

The barn served as a communal storage for the entire village, where any resident could go at any time for necessary provisions. The barn measured twenty by fifteen meters. The floor was covered with boards, beneath which wooden beams provided support. A cellar, spanning the barn’s entire footprint, was located beneath the floor. Under the roof was a rectangular attic. The attic’s floor was designed to extend five meters inward from the outer walls, leaving an empty space in the middle. This central void made it possible to position a ladder and climb up from any point on the ground floor. A stove stood in the center of the barn and was lit when severe frosts began. For this reason, someone was inside around the clock to ensure the fire in the stove did not go out. To this end, the elders and some of their sons took turns guarding the fire to prevent the provisions from freezing.

In addition to the barn, this part of the village also housed livestock pens for pigs, cows, sheep, rabbits, and goats.

That evening, the full company was present. It was already dark outside, and loud laughter filled the barn.

— Who’s next? — Thomas asked cheerfully after winning the game of “Tower” against Karl.

The principle of the game was quite simple: Sixty elongated, six-sided wooden blocks are stacked three high, with players alternating the direction of the blocks in each new row. The players then begin to pull out a single block in turn. The game continues until the structure collapses when a player attempts to pull out a block. Thomas was on a roll that evening. He had defeated Wilhelm and Martin before facing Karl. Now Andreas sat opposite him.

— Now I’ll show you — he said menacingly to Thomas, starting to stack the blocks.

— Yeah, right — Thomas answered sarcastically. — You can tell those stories to someone else. But only after I bring you back down to earth.

— You certainly taught your boy to hunt well — Andreas suddenly said in a restrained tone. — By the way, tell him thanks for the hare.

— It was nothing. It would be better if we went shooting sometime — Thomas replied in the same calm voice, finishing stacking the blocks.

— Yes, we should do that sometime.

Suddenly, Andreas turned around and said:

— Hey, Herman, come join us.

— Why not? — Herman replied, wiping the wine from his lips with his sleeve. He sat down alongside them, and the game began.

At the adjacent table sat Karl, Wilhelm, Martin, Gustav, and his two sons — Ragnar and Henry — each of whom was married with children. Some were playing dice, others were keeping the wine flowing, and a few were simply making conversation.

Andreas lost at “Tower” and joined the adjacent table, where they were playing dice. He picked up a bottle and offered Karl a wine top-up. Karl handed him the glass, but, true to habit, he said nothing where anyone else would normally say “thank you,” “I appreciate it,” or “don’t bother In general, Andreas never desired to befriend Karl or establish close communication with him. He fundamentally disagreed with the worldview that defined Karl. Andreas considered Karl’s habits and manners too outdated, harsh, and at times, utterly reckless. To him, Karl was a man who lacked his own mind and blindly adhered to the laws inherited from his ancestors. Despite having no sympathy for Karl, he still tried to be patient and occasionally engage him in even the most trivial conversation. Andreas understood that this was necessary if he wanted his son to marry Karl’s daughter. He liked Penelope and fully approved of his son’s choice, believing that this girl would become a wonderful wife and mother.

However, Karl already had a friend in Martin, who respected his conservative morals and sternness of mind. What’s more, Martin hated Penelope, and after noticing several times how Karl raised his voice at his eldest daughter, he began to respect him even more. Sometimes Martin thought that if his neighbor didn’t have such a pretty daughter, his own son wouldn’t be daydreaming, perpetually in the clouds, about marrying some princess of unearthly beauty one day. He believed such thoughts were very harmful, as Ian risked starting a family much later than he should, or, worse yet, remaining completely without offspring.

— We need to finish gathering the harvest quickly so we can get to the sowing — Gustav said, finishing the last of his wine.

Gustav was in his fifty-second year, making him the oldest man in the village. Formally, he was not the head of the village and did not have the deciding vote, but he was considered the unofficial leader among the elders. During his life, his father, Henrik, commanded respect throughout the entire village and was a great authority. He was revered as a wise man with vast life experience, and every piece of his advice was highly valued. When Henrik passed away, Gustav somehow decided that his father’s authority would be passed on to him by inheritance, and that he did not need to earn the respect of others through his own efforts. However, it was never customary in the village to appoint a leader among the elders; every issue was decided by vote. Nonetheless, Gustav consciously tried to convey the idea that he was the chief here and his opinion should not be questioned. No one outwardly ignored him, and they allowed him to assume the role of leader only out of respect for the deceased Henrik.

For that matter, Gustav also had his own reasons for hating Karl’s eldest daughter. The cause was that when his youngest son, Konrad, offered to court Penelope, she resolutely refused him. A flare of hatred was also directed at Andreas when Gustav discovered that Erikson was courting Penelope. Gustav thus came to the simple conclusion that, in Penelope’s opinion, his son was inferior to Andreas’s.

— We’ll make it — Herman confidently stated from the adjacent table. — The harvest is going according to plan, so there will be enough time.

— I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you. The weather has already surprised us once this year.

Herman didn’t answer because everyone understood how unyielding Gustav was in his certainty. He spent several more minutes citing a plethora of arguments in favor of his opinion, while Herman mused on how much Gustav was truly dramatizing everything. Herman himself was the exact opposite, preferring to view any problem as a matter of time: put in a little effort, and the problem would disappear. Now, having lost at “Tower,” he told Thomas in a confident tone, while energetically waving his arms:

— Alright, one more time. The glass is empty, so now nothing can interfere with me.

These words greatly amused Thomas.

Martin glanced at everyone present, weighed the situation one last time, and finally risked saying:

— Alright then. I see no one wants to talk about this, so I’ll start. — Everyone immediately looked at Martin. Placing his left hand on his hip, he continued speaking without the slightest tremor in his voice: — We must face the truth. The harvest this year is meager. Such reserves will definitely not last until spring. Maybe it’s time to discuss an alternative.

Gustav was the first to reply:

— I wouldn’t say everyone here is avoiding this conversation, Martin. Everyone understands. We just need to finish harvesting the grain to assess the final volume of provisions.

— It seems, — Wilhelm began, — that this option doesn’t bother you at all.

— We are simply realists — Martin retorted.

— You are simply crazy — Thomas objected.

— Be careful with your choice of words — Gustav insisted.

Thomas forgot about the game, slammed his glass onto the table, stood up abruptly from his stool, pointed his finger at Gustav, and said reproachfully:

— It’s easy to talk when you don’t have daughters.

Raising his voice a little, Gustav replied:

— What does that even mean!? Are you trying to call me a ruthless bastard!? Or maybe you think it’s my fault that I have three sons!?

— I don’t care what you think — Thomas continued. — Many of us have girls older than ten, and we’re not going to listen to talk like this from those who risk nothing.

— How dare you!? — Martin shouted, slamming the table. — In addition to my sons, I also have a daughter, but I try to accept the will of fate instead of avoiding responsibility.

Herman wanted to stand up and call for calm, but Thomas shouted another remark:

— What are you saying?! You have a daughter?! Wilhelm has four, only one of whom is not yet ten! How must he feel hearing this?! If you were in his place, I don’t think you would have the nerve to start this conversation!

Suddenly, Andreas jumped up from his chair, stood between the two tables, and yelled at the top of his voice:

— ENOUGH!!!

A silence fell over the barn that was louder than a cannon barrage.

Andreas may not have managed to calm everyone down, but at the very least, he made them all sit back down. He remained standing and began to lay out his proposal:

— Many of those present here have daughters. First of all, we must be respectful of their feelings and not act as if we were discussing the fate of some animal. Either way, it is too early to consider this option. We have not yet gathered the entire harvest or done a proper count. Regardless, we can hunt. Ultimately, we can slaughter a bit more livestock. We will then replace some of the plant provisions with meat and simultaneously reduce the amount of harvest needed to feed the animals. So, first of all, each of us needs to put our brains to work, — Andreas concluded, looking at Martin and then at Gustav as if addressing his words to them, — and then suggest something like this.

Martin could not understand Andreas simply because he had three sons and no daughters. Gustav, meanwhile, was certain that Andreas was worried about his offspring, who had already found a bride among the local girls.

Whatever the reason, this topic was closed — at least for the time being.

Having finished his glass, Wilhelm rose from the table, preparing to head home. Andreas and Thomas offered him a game, but he politely declined. With each passing day, he tried to leave Ava alone less and less, fearing premature labor, as had happened once before when Astrid was born.

Soon, Wilhelm crossed the threshold of the house. Usually, he went straight to the bed where, before closing his eyes, he would press himself tightly against Ava. At this stage, she could no longer sleep on her stomach and had to lie on her side. This time, Wilhelm went to the girls’ bed. He bent down and kissed each of them on the forehead. In those moments, tears began to well up in his eyes, but he found the strength to hold them back.

Wilhelm watched the girls for a while, particularly Frida, who seemed about to push Astrid right out of the bed. He carefully shifted Frida a little deeper, then went to his own bed. He pressed himself against Ava, wrapped his arm around her bulging belly, and closed his eyes, hoping to quickly fall asleep and at least temporarily escape his thoughts of Nix.

## 5. After Sunset

During those same autumn days, when the elders began gathering in the barn in the late evenings, the women of the village were also keeping busy. After clearing the table, each sought to spend time in someone else’s company.

Regina was about to wipe up the flour traces she found on the floor, but Penelope asked to do it herself. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and went to fill the lamp with oil. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Regina hurried to open the door. Ava stood on the threshold, surrounded by Irma, Astrid, Frida, and Wanda. Regina invited them all inside. Finally, she kissed Ava in greeting and then asked her to wait a moment while she finished filling her lamp. While waiting for Regina, Ava quietly approached Penelope from behind and sharply pinched her sides. Penelope screamed hysterically in surprise, and Ava couldn’t stop laughing for a long time.

— Sorry, — she managed to say through her laughter, — but I couldn’t resist.

Penelope tried her best to contain her smile, but she failed.

— All right — Penelope replied, as if forgiving her. — Just make sure the baby doesn’t jump out of your belly.

Ava appreciated the joke, grabbing Penelope’s shoulder for support to keep from falling, and, dissolving into laughter, nearly rested her chin on it.

Soon after, Regina appeared. She handed Ava the oil lamp and picked up a freshly baked apple pie. They headed for the exit. At the doorway, Regina said:

— Well, that’s everything. Don’t get bored.

Ava waved and said:

— Girls, be sure to obey Penelope.

A moment later, the door clicked shut.

On such evenings, Wanda was the most excited about visiting Penelope.

— What are we doing today? — she asked.

— Patience, sweetie — Penelope replied, wiping the last traces of flour from the floor.

Finished with the cleaning, she led the girls to her room and asked them to wait a moment. Then Penelope went out to the backyard and called out loudly:

— All right, everyone inside!

Ursula, Willie, and Sven raced at full speed toward Penelope. After bringing the children inside, she closed the door from the inside and went into the bedroom. There, as was usual in such cases, Penelope spread several wide, warm blankets on top of each other, where all the children could settle in a semicircle. She then sat opposite them with the lamp in her hand, tucking her legs beneath her. On each of these evenings, when parents throughout the village scattered in search of entertainment and interesting conversation, the little ones flocked to Penelope to listen to legends and fairy tales. This time, in her hands lay a book of stories by obscure authors.

That evening, she chose a story for the children about the love between a simple fisherman and the daughter of an emperor. In the story, the emperor forcibly married his daughter off to a member of the upper class by threatening to kill the fisherman. The fisherman could not bear this and, feeling his life fading, decided to pierce his own heart with a dagger. But moments before, the young man appealed to the higher powers and asked for only one thing: to be allowed to be reborn so that he might see the face of his beloved just one more time, even if only with one eye. However, the emperor’s daughter could not bear parting with the young man either. She was so distraught that she decided to jump from the window of her bedchamber in the high tower. The lovers died on the same day, at the same hour. But then, just a few months later, a stranger appeared in the city: a man by day, a huge wolf by night. The stranger suffered for a long time because the face of a certain maiden kept resurfacing in his mind. The face seemed familiar to him. He didn’t know who this beauty was, but he desperately wanted to find her. He searched for her for a long time but never found her. The stranger was alone, and that loneliness became more and more unbearable with each passing day. Turning into the wolf by night, he attacked the locals, who soon became wolves just like him. The stranger was no longer alone, but the beautiful maiden’s face still gave him no peace. His second essence, which emerged with the onset of darkness, kept him from being alone by creating a pack in which he found companions. But the stranger still felt lonely.

Soon, under the lamplight falling upon the pages, Penelope finished reading the last lines of the story:

— Captured in a beast’s flesh, he wandered the earth for long centuries, searching for his beloved in the hope that she was waiting for him somewhere.

Lying on the floor with her chin propped on her fists, an impressed Wanda took a deep breath and said out of habit:

— Read us something else?

But Penelope abruptly shut the book, causing a muffled thud, and said:

— That’s enough for today.

Upset, Wanda sighed even louder. The others were also annoyed that Penelope refused to read another story, but Wanda was the most indignant of all.


A knock sounded at the door. Charlotte hurried to open it. On the threshold stood Regina with the apple pie and Ava, who held the lamp in her right hand and pressed a shawl against her bulging belly with her left to keep the baby warm.

— Well, finally — Charlotte said, kissing her friends on the cheeks in turn. — Hurry, come in.

Regina and Charlotte were bosom friends. The same could be said for Ava, though in their case, the friendship was furthered by their children’s intent to marry. In their conversations, Charlotte and Regina often touched on the topic of the wedding, discussing the future they wished for Erikson and Penelope. Andreas, too, already considered Regina a full-fledged relative. At every chance meeting, he urged her to visit their home more often, promising he would ask Charlotte to cook something special for the occasion.

— By the way, Yvette sent word that she can’t make it — Charlotte said while pouring boiling water over the rose hips. — Their youngest has fallen ill. — After a short pause, Charlotte added: — I hope you didn’t eat too much at dinner?

— Not really — Regina said, placing the first slice of pie onto Ava’s plate.

— You don’t have to worry about me — Ava replied. After biting off a generous piece of pie, she added, with her mouth full: — The baby will help me; he can never get enough.

Regina and Charlotte laughed, and when the laughter subsided, Charlotte said:

— Selma promised to bring a baked hare.

Hearing about the baked hare, Ava lowered her eyelids and thought with some longing about how much she craved meat, all while continuing to chew the pie she was currently eating alone, as the others had decided to wait for Selma and the hare.

— Magdalena also said she couldn’t make it — Regina suddenly recalled. — She didn’t say why, though.

Charlotte added with an uplifted voice:

— At least we won’t have to see Roberta.

— She couldn’t come? — Regina asked. Ava wanted to ask the same question, but the pie in her mouth prevented her.

— I have no idea. I simply didn’t invite her.

This was excellent news for Regina and Ava, just as it would be for Selma.

Roberta, Gustav’s wife, had earned a reputation as the local shrew, with whom few wished to be friends. However, Roberta had a habit of not so much inviting herself as simply informing everyone that she would be joining the little gathering the women of the village held when their husbands were in the barn, the younger children went to Penelope for stories, and the rest went wherever. Her very presence prevented the other women from speaking their minds freely. On almost half of those evenings, the company would be missing one or two women. On those occasions when Roberta could not grace them with a visit, she truly pleased everyone. Unlike their husbands, the wives did not gather every day, but often enough; most evenings — especially in the colder months — were spent in noisy company. The previous morning, Charlotte had been “lucky” enough to run into Roberta on the street, who advised her to get rid of that awful shawl. Of course, Roberta couldn’t have known that the shawl had been a gift from Charlotte’s late mother, but she likely wouldn’t have changed her abrasive manners even if someone had informed her. Charlotte, without uttering a word, continued walking toward the well. That same day, she went around to all her friends and invited them to her place for tea and poppy seed buns. She certainly remembered Roberta. She remembered her so well that she made sure to keep her name off the guest list.

Since Gustav was the one who lectured everyone about life in their family, Roberta took on this role outside the home. She considered herself wiser and more clever than everyone else, simply because she was the oldest woman in the village. She didn’t even care that Herman’s wife, Yvette, for example, was only four years younger. In this respect, Roberta was much like her husband. In addition to not bothering about social graces, Roberta irritated everyone further by doing things like opening cabinets, rearranging items, giving orders, signaling when to set the table and when to clear it, scolding hosts for squeaky chairs and crooked tables, demanding that a hostess throw out old spoons and get new ones, telling everyone where to sit, and… In short, she literally made herself at home. She was also the chief culinary specialist, never missing an opportunity to comment on the dryness of the dough or a lack of sweetness. The last time Magdalena made a raspberry cake, Roberta — either because she couldn’t find a fault or for some other reason — said: “Next time, try adding some nuts, and plenty of them”.

The absence of such a toxic spirit made the gatherings a true rest and an excellent opportunity to speak freely, without any fear that their secrets would be heard by someone they didn’t want privy to their conversations.

Soon Selma appeared at the doorway. Ludwig followed her, holding a wide pan with the cooked hare. After placing the dish on the table, the young man wished everyone a pleasant appetite and departed.

Selma’s first act was to approach Ava, whom she did not allow to get up from her chair.

— How is the baby doing? — Selma asked, glancing briefly at Ava’s belly.

— He’s buttin’ — she replied.

— And right he is to do it — Selma insisted. — Good boy, don’t let your mom relax.

Ava laughed.

Selma quickly fetched a plate, and with surprising ease, sliced off the best piece of hare, which she placed in front of Ava, adding:

— I hope the baby has a good appetite?

— Like an animal — Ava replied a second before managing to put the first piece in her mouth. — I barely have time to swallow.

— There you go! — Selma exclaimed. — That means this time you have a true giant in there, because a girl couldn’t hold that much food.

Ava laughed again, revealing her snow-white teeth, which made it hard to imagine — even though she was the youngest of all the wives — that she had already given birth to four children and was carrying a fifth.

— Thank you, sweetie — the hostess almost shouted after Ludwig as he was closing the door behind him.

## 6. Trembling and Cold

The first severe frosts arrived. The ground underfoot was harder than stone. Over the course of a week, the frost had finally established its round-the-clock presence, whereas only a few days prior, when the sun was at its zenith, the soil underfoot would thaw for a time. Now, the frost gave no reprieve, day or night.