In the darkness a sound cracks the doors of the quiet open. A girl's scream vibrates through the air and travels across the forest to reach the glass-stained windows of a villager's house. It quivers as if the owner of the voice is desperately knocking on it with her bloody hands. And indeed the red drops of her innocent blood would stream down the cold surface of the glass. Bones chilled by the horrifying wails. The mother wraps up her child in the arms and blocks her ears, so maybe she won’t be able to hear the blood-curdling screams that keep coming like a wild wind of the winter. The same time she prays to her god to save her child from the harms of the evil. A prayer that ascends from the heart, humbly and attached with fear. This fear has left the hearts of the villagers frozen. A chilling that may never get off the face of their prayers. Mothers and maidens who have sought shelter to the basement of their houses, and fathers who their hearts shudder with every wail that comes from the dark sides of the forest, that maybe the next sacrifice would be their girl. Their eyes wide open, looking for someone to come and free them from the damn of the evil. Their hearts are filled with pain and terror that barely leaves any room for hope. Screaming disappears. The devil makes a scream of joy. An announcement for the villagers, that now they can lower their crossed fingers, as well as an alarm, the awareness of another sacrifice waiting at the end of this season. In the depth of the forest where the devil washes off like a stain of dirt, his robe of gloom fades and appears the body of a young girl, bathed in her own blood, raped and ripped like a savage job of a wild creature. Wild as no wolf dares to visit.