Two. …Three. That's the crow. Always the same branch.

No claw marks on my shoulder. And the hemp cord on the third tree is gone.

Bogdan…Back again.

I'm Bogdan. The only thing that survives the rewind is this ledger.

I add one more line. That crow repeats everything three times. But my name, it said only twice.

And not in its flat crow voice. A woman's, low, the ends of the words just dropping off. Like the witch who calls me woodsman. That part… I don't write down. If I write it, it might come true.

Page eight. Same name on the top line. Mykola. Hunter. Under the third tree. Frozen to death. That's tonight.

Bottom right, my hand draws a box before I even think. The price box. Empty again today.

BogdanEvery time I reach the outpost, I'm too late. Mykola's already taken the salt. And around here, salt…