The town is desolate.
A faint red light illuminates the dark streets where, a few days ago, the villagers walked without imagining the fate that awaited them.
Only a single woman remains behind: Only she walks through the now deserted streets.
She walks in silence, her gaze lost in the distance, focusing on nothing in particular. She doesn't notice the strong wind that surrounds her and makes her red skirt dance violently.
Calm. Silence. Everyone has fled.
She closes her eyes to enjoy loneliness. When she opens her eyes and slowly returns to reality, she notices how cold the evening has gotten. She trembles underneath her loose dress.
Entering a large room, soberly decorated, she light the fireplace. The flames make her shadow look longer, threatening.
She can only hear the firewood crackling and the hooting of an owl in the distance.
"An owl hooting in the dead of night... Someone will die before morning arrives" She tells herself, remembering the old tales her grandmother used to tell her as a little girl.
Someone will die tonight, and she is the only person left.
She stands up, stepping away from the fireplace. She can't stand the thick silence anymore. That silence that she had longed for now makes her uneasy.
Only silence, except for the ominous hooting.
All of a sudden, though, something catches her attention. Could it be? Could she truly have heard footsteps approaching?
She runs outside the house. A young man, walking idly around the ghost town, looking intrigued. He calls out to her as he steps closer, clearly relieved.
"Everything is so quiet! Where is everyone?"
Dead or on the run, she thinks to herself. Why does it matter?
"Follow me, they are all in here" She murmurs somberly, as she motions for him to go with her.
The stranger hesitates, but in the end merely nods and steps toward the house she just rushed out of.
She waits a few seconds and then walks after him, pulling out the dagger that hangs from her belt.
She can no longer hear an owl hooting.