It was winter.
The wind blew heavily with gusts of snow from the heartless north.
Faraway in a forest gathered several men in tattered raiments that had been mended several times with no remembrance. The beared adult men carried fire torches, sticks, and axes.
'Heave-Ho! The sun's going down anytime!'
The voice rang.
The flames lit the late afternoon in the fog filled mountain through the foliages like overlaying canopies. Steps of the people echoed, leaving footprints in the snowy road as well as the sounds of crushed leaves and faint jingling of shackles created a forgotten melody to the winter.
A plus size curly haired burly man gestured towards the fog in the front, "Finn, what happened to the girlie?"
From the side, a lanky boy wobbled up, "Old man Vic, she ain't doing good in the freezing cold. Old man Tim and others holdin' her."
Apparently, the white sack they carried happened to be a girl not younger than ten.
A sacrifice.
He hesitated a bit, 'What if we get retribution?"
For generations, the village of Sumire held an annual ritual of human sacrifice. The village had suffered many casualties in the past until the last mayor brought in a reforming solution.
The villagers held a deep-seated belief that calamities of nature—such as landslides, earthquakes, droughts, and the invasion of monstrous beings—were the handiwork of the celestial realms above. In order to placate the fury of the mountain deity, they resorted to the grim ritual of sacrificing a villager considered unworthy, a practice that not only halted the scourge of disasters but also enriched their harvests with abundance.
Like last year, this time a sacrifice was chosen.
Smack.
"Retribution?! Retribution, ye'say?!"
Finn's back was met with a sharp smack from Victor. Victor's face had completely turned red. He angrily barked at his fellows, "Ey, stop dawdlin'. The mountain spirit's gonna get mad for late offering! Our village has been doing this for years!! Don't forget!! Who brings us food and provision!! The mountain's protecting us!!"
The others behind started mumbling. Some had guilt itched on their faces vanishing not long after the afterthoughts of their deeds for the village after Bryce, a brown lean man in bardic manner said something to them.
Bryce was the village mayor's sycophant who had the ability to sway the emotions of the mass through vibrant speech.
"Enough fuss already." He narrowed his eyes while that friendly smile stayed plastered on his face,"We don't have all day."
At the mountain cliff...
" The mountain spirit's asking a lot this year. Emma's newborn was chosen this year too. But, we still got less harvest."
" Sheesh, coming here twice sucks."
The breeze was stronger on the cliff where they gathered. Underneath the snow covered surface awaited a sizzling mist covered depth.
"Boys, unmount her."
Victor trampled the snow as he awaited his fate. His sole desire was to return home as swiftly as possible. After all, the weather can be quite capricious. The darkness was beginning to descend.
Delicate feet, ensnared by corroded iron shackles, were first glimpsed as they slipped down the fabric drapery. Her arms were bound tightly. The young maiden trembled against the chill, as if the very weight of her body would conspire with the earth to betray her.
Lips so parched that crimson droplets nearly flowed down her chin. She was a maiden of otherworldly beauty. Her mystic blue eyes, partially visible, sparkled like the clearest sky. The cloth draped over her shimmering silver hair rendered her more akin to a bride than a prisoner.
At one point, back in the village, she was loved by all, liked by the elder's third son Edwin.
But now, she was helpless. Anguish itched in her eyes that earned a loud smack on the shoulder from the farmer named Paul, "Ye', don't ye glare, girlie! Show some respect, brat!" That most likely scarred her weak skin.
She cried in anguish.
She couldn't speak. They had slit her tongue. She had done all the pleading yesterday. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The villagers performed some pseudo ritual in front of the mountain parallel to the cliff. All they poured into her ears was how blessed she was to be chosen.
A desperate call of devotion followed.
"O' the protector of the mountains!"
"Heed our prays! Bless us!"
Swoossh...
Not long after that, the miserable girl was thrown off into the oblivion; where she herself disappeared from the naked sight.
Forgotten by the deserting gait of the villagers.