Inside the warm cottage, the low crackle of the hearth filled the space as Mary glanced at the remnants of their ingredients—some potatoes, a few wilted carrots, and a handful of herbs she had gathered earlier in the day. It wasn’t much to work with, but it would have to do. The stew was already simmering, though it needed a little more time to cook. Her stomach growled, but there was a knot in her throat, something that hadn’t left since their encounter by the river.
Liam, sensing her distraction, sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll take over the babysitting, Mary. You go sit down or something. You look like you’ve been through a lot.” He tossed her an exaggerated wink before turning to face the younger siblings.
“Alright, you two,” Liam said, his tone playful but with a hint of authority. “We’ve got a big job ahead. The house needs cleaning, and the table needs setting. Let’s get it done before Mama and Papa come back, or we’ll all be in trouble.”
Rosette and Michael reluctantly left the window where they had been watching for their parents, their faces still shadowed by the memories of the eyes in the woods. But they didn’t argue. They knew Liam was in charge now.
“Come on, Michael, let’s get the floor!” Rosette exclaimed, grabbing a small broom and pushing it toward her younger brother. “You help me sweep, and I’ll help you with the dishes afterward.”
Michael nodded, his face still a little pale from earlier, but the distraction of the chore helped settle his nerves.
Meanwhile, Liam headed to the small wooden table in the center of the room. He set about preparing it in his usual way, trying to make it look neat despite the flurry of activity around him. It wasn’t much—a few wooden bowls, a couple of mismatched spoons—but it was theirs, and that made it feel special.
Mary watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with a bittersweet affection. They were just kids—too young to understand the weight of what had happened, too innocent to realize that something was lurking in the world beyond their doorstep.
She sighed and turned back to the stew, adding a little more salt and stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. It would be soon, she thought, when their parents came home from the market. They had gone to sell the produce from the farm harvest—apples, carrots, and whatever else they had been able to gather this season. Their father would be bringing back their earnings for the month.
A small part of Mary was comforted by the thought of their parents returning. But another part of her, the part that had seen the glowing eyes in the woods, couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
“Mary,” Rosette’s voice broke her thoughts. “Do you think we’ll see the fairies?”
Mary smiled at her little sister, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe, Rosie. If you’re kind enough, maybe one will visit you in the night.”
Michael, now at the table with Liam, piped up, his voice small but full of hope. “Maybe the fairies will protect us from the boogie man.”
Liam chuckled, but there was a nervousness in his laugh. “Yeah, right. Fairies don’t protect people from boogie men.” He didn’t believe in the stories—not really. But even he couldn’t deny the shiver that ran up his spine as he glanced back toward the window.
Mary felt it too. The soft wind that brushed the curtains, the quiet that seemed to hang in the air. It wasn’t just the evening settling in. It was something else.
The door creaked open then, and the soft sound of footsteps on the porch interrupted the quiet tension in the room. Mary’s heart skipped a beat, and she moved toward the door. Was it their parents? Had they come back early?
The door swung open, but it wasn’t their mother and father.
Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dimming sky, was a figure Mary hadn’t expected.
The door creaked open, and standing in the doorway was none other than Aunt Poppy, her figure framed by the dimming light of the evening. Her round face, warm and freckled, beamed at Mary as she stepped inside with a basket balanced on her hip. The familiar scent of herbs and slow-cooked meat wafted in with her, a comforting reminder of the homey atmosphere that always seemed to follow Aunt Poppy wherever she went.
“Dearie Mary, I made extra stew tonight,” Aunt Poppy said, her voice as warm and welcoming as always. “Take a bowl here, child. You’ve been working so hard, I can see it in your face. You need to rest and fill your belly.”
Mary hesitated, momentarily thrown off guard. She hadn’t expected her aunt to stop by, though Aunt Poppy was known for her spontaneous kindness, always bringing over food, treats, or whatever she’d been experimenting with in her kitchen.
Before Mary could speak, Aunt Poppy stepped into the house, setting the basket on the table. “Now, don’t you worry about the mess, dear. Liam’s taking care of the little ones, isn’t he?” She glanced over at her nephew, who was just finishing setting the table, clearly relieved by his aunt’s arrival.
“Yeah, Aunt Poppy,” Liam said, a little embarrassed by the attention but grateful for the help. “We were just getting things ready. Thanks for bringing this by.”
Rosette and Michael, momentarily distracted by the new arrival, ran over to their aunt, their eyes lighting up with the promise of food and comfort. “Aunt Poppy!” Rosette exclaimed, “Did you bring anything for us?”
Aunt Poppy chuckled and patted both of their heads. “Of course I did, my darlings. Plenty for everyone.” She pulled a small bundle of bread from her basket and set it on the table alongside the stew, smiling as she watched the children gather around eagerly.
Mary finally gave in, her stomach growling in response to the aroma, and she accepted the bowl Aunt Poppy handed her. “Thank you, Aunt Poppy. You’re too kind.”
Aunt Poppy gave her a knowing smile. “You’re always welcome, child. Now, what’s been weighing on your mind? You’ve been quieter than usual.” She set down her basket and gave Mary a look that was both gentle and perceptive. Aunt Poppy had a way of knowing when something was amiss.
Mary hesitated, glancing at her siblings—still gathered around the table, content with the food. She felt a strange reluctance to speak of the eyes in the woods, not wanting to burden her family with fears she herself didn’t fully understand. But Aunt Poppy wasn’t one to let things go so easily.
After a long pause, Mary finally spoke. “It’s nothing, really,” she said, forcing a small smile. “Just… we saw something earlier by the river.” She paused, unsure of how to explain it.
Aunt Poppy’s expression softened immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing with concern. “Something? What do you mean, dear?”
Mary’s throat tightened, but she swallowed and continued, “There were these eyes… glowing, watching us from the trees. At first, I thought it was just an animal, but it wasn’t. It felt… wrong.”
Liam scoffed lightly. “You’re both just imagining it. I told you, it’s probably just an owl or something.”
Aunt Poppy didn’t take her eyes off Mary. “And you, dear?” she asked, her voice lowering, “What do you think?”
Mary hesitated again but then nodded, the unease returning to her chest. “I think Liam’s right. It could’ve been an animal. But it didn’t feel like that. It felt… like it was watching us.”
Aunt Poppy let the silence linger for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, she reached into her basket and pulled out something Mary hadn’t noticed before—a small, wooden charm wrapped in a cloth.
She handed it to Mary gently. “Take this, child. It’s an old family charm, passed down from my mother. It’s said to protect from… things that wander in the dark. Whatever it was you saw, it won’t hurt you with this.”
Mary’s fingers closed around the charm, the weight of it grounding her. She wasn’t sure if it would help, but the gesture itself gave her a strange sense of comfort.
“Thank you, Aunt Poppy,” Mary said softly, looking up at her with gratitude.
“Don’t mention it,” Aunt Poppy replied with a wink. “Just make sure you’re all safe, and don’t go wandering too far at night. The woods can be full of things best left unseen.”
Before the conversation could go any further, the sound of footsteps echoed outside, followed by the creak of the door opening. The kids’ faces lit up as they immediately recognized the familiar figures of their parents entering the house.
Harold, carrying a heavy basket of goods, stepped inside first, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Behind him, Carol, glowing with pregnancy, entered next, her gentle smile lighting up the room as she cradled her round belly.
"Mom! Dad!" Rosette and Michael cried in unison, rushing toward them, eager for hugs. Mary, though a little more composed, smiled widely as she watched her younger siblings embrace their parents.
Harold chuckled and wrapped his arms around the kids, lifting them up in his usual playful manner. "Poppy, came for dinner?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his sister, who had already begun serving the stew at the table.
Aunt Poppy grinned and waved a hand. "Gosh, brother, I'm the best auntie here, taking care of my cute nieces and nephews," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Carol giggled softly, her hand resting on her belly. “You’re always there when we need you, Poppy.” She gave her a warm smile, her eyes reflecting the same gentle humor.
Harold sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "That's why I tell ya to get married. Look at you, always showing up with food, looking after everyone—maybe you’d like a little someone to take care of for a change?"
Poppy stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Oh, Harold, not tonight! Let’s eat before you start your matchmaking again."
Liam grinned, watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and affection. “Poppy’s the best aunt, no one can argue with that.”
Carol patted his head, joining in the laughter. “Alright, alright, enough teasing. Let’s all sit down and eat before the stew gets cold.”
The family gathered around the table, the warmth of the hearth and the delicious scent of the meal filling the room. But despite the laughter and the comfort of being together, Mary couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching—something out in the dark woods beyond their home.
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