The Fate of Winter

She was born a bird, cursed with humanity in the winter months. When I found her, she was huddled in the hollow of a tree, shivering, unable to speak or even walk. I could see no signs of where she came from or how she could've ended up here on my land. At the time, I had no idea who or what she was, and all I knew was I needed to take the poor girl home and heal her. I draped my cloak around her frail body, put her on my horse, and walked her back to my home. When we got inside, her eyes darted around quickly, trying to make sense of the world around her. Not long after cleaning her up, my husband walked in, and I told him how I found her.

"You FOOL of a woman! Don't you know what she is?!" He shouted in a panic. I took a step back and stood in front of her to protect her. I've never seen him in such a frenzy.

"What are you talking about?" I scoffed, "She's a helpless girl!"

"Don't you remember the stories our village tells us as children? She's a Fate!" I stared at him, perplexed. I remembered this tale, no different than the boogie man. Long ago, our village exiled a witch. In return, she cursed the one that accused her and ruined her life. The details of the curse became skewed over time. All we knew was that the curse somehow still haunted the village.

"You're ridiculous; it's just a tale. You're frightening this poor girl!" I glanced back at the girl, and she was huddled in the corner, hiding under the cloak on the floor. Her hair was covering her face; she hadn't looked up at me since I found her.

"The Fates often take the form of birds," he recited, "Watch for them, but look away quickly if they appear."

I turned again and knelt and gazed at the girl. Slowly, she looked up at me. Her all-black eyes...I had never noticed them until now. Her round black eyes were soft, drawing me in like a lullaby. The world seemed to halt around me. I turned back to my husband and begged him,

"If she IS, in fact, a Fate," I argued, "we should still treat her with kindness to avoid any wrath. If she's not a Fate, we will have saved her. Besides, IF the girl is one, she cannot do anything to us as a human". He paused for a moment, reluctantly considering my suggestion, then walked out—his way of conceding. I turned my attention back to the girl and began to find her some food. I tried to feed her a sandwich, but all she would eat was the bread. When my husband came back in, he gestured for us to follow him. He led us to the old barn, and in the attic, he created a living space for her.

"This will do." He muttered and walked off. The girl and I stared at the barn entrance. I gave her an affirming hug, led her in, and showed her her new home. She liked the straw bed more than I expected. There was a basket of blankets and clothes and various foods. She forgot about me quickly with all of her surroundings, so I left her alone. I thought, surely this wouldn't last, and I would prove to my husband that she was just a girl.

The weeks went by, and she stayed the same. Every morning I brought her food and water. I would spend some time with her, helping her eat or reading to her. Occasionally she would smile, and I thought, this sweet girl will be living in our home in no time, and my husband will have to admit he was wrong. Every night I could see her in the window of the barn, too far away to see her in detail. All I could make out were hollow-looking black eyes were piercing against her pale skin, peering back at me as though she could see me precisely and with accuracy into my thoughts and soul. I wouldn't admit to myself that it chilled me to the bone. I was so anxious to bring her in, but my husband insisted on waiting until spring to decide the truth.

The night before the Spring Equinox, we were startled by a crash outside. I watched from our bedroom window as my husband searched for the source of the commotion. To my dismay, it led him to the barn. My heart sunk into my stomach, afraid that I was wrong after all. What could this mean for us? I couldn't let him go alone. I quickly ran outside to catch up with him. The moonlight lit up the thinly icy ground that was stinging my bare feet as I rushed to him. Cautiously, we opened the door to the barn, wary of venturing inside.

The barn was in shambles. Hay was everywhere; furnishings were thrown about. The dim light above swayed side to side. But the girl....was nowhere to be found. I looked down and noticed the chilling morning breeze kicking up feathers swirling them about on the debris-filled ground. No sooner than we looked at each other, realizing the truth, the barn door slammed behind us with a snap. We looked forward, and there she was - An owl perched on the back wall, peering at us with her large luminous eyes. Those same eyes as before, drawing us in, paralyzing us, now with a halo of gold around her pupils. The light above us and our lanterns went out, and all went silent. All we could hear was our shaking breath gasping quietly, trying not to be detected. I could see the morning light begin to peer through, illuminating only our frozen breath in the air... and the owl's piercing eyes.

"You must be afraid..." a meek raspy female voice whispered, almost seeming to come from all around, "the ritual won't work if you're not afraid." Echos of whispers trailed its message before all went silent again. The silence seemed to go on for an eternity, but we were too afraid to break it. Then the air was instantly sucked from the room like a vortex; the entire barn fell around us within a whirlwind of our screams.

I don't know how long we laid there unconscious, but when we came to, the warm light of the sun was shining through the cracks of the barn. We quickly scrambled to our feet and stumbled outside. Astonishingly, the barn still stood, and the ground was still solid, but everything in the barn was thrown about; half of it sprawled outside as if the barn had spit it out.

We seemed unscathed, and the girl - the owl - was nowhere to be seen. Did she spare us? Life seemed to be just as it was. But the voice - what did those words mean? Those words haunted my mind for months. My husband and I had an unspoken agreement not to talk about it. If we didn't talk about it, it didn't happen. But as the months grew colder, it all began to make sense. First, our appetite changed. Only bread and seeds and the like became more appetizing. Then feathers started to sprout painfully from our skin, and soon, our entire anatomy was transformed. She had cursed us with the same gift she was given... to set herself free!