Trap!

1955, Unha Valley

Slumbered far from the city's hustle and bustle, Unha Valley was where whispers of the mystical still held sway. The dense forest pulsing with an ancient, primal energy. A treasure trove of rare plants and unseen creatures of valuable medication for ancient remedies.

An ethereal mist would cloak the land every year, around this time. Temperatures plummeted to bone-chilling cold, casting the valley in a daylong frigid embrace. And the distant howls of unseen creatures, their mournful cries echoing through the desolate expanse, pierced nights.

Elena Silas, a thirty-four-year-old journalist with a spirit as adventurous as her profession, had finally made her homecoming. Adorned with a cascade of lustrous long brown hair, a hint of her razor-sharp wit, and an aura of courage, Elena epitomised the modern, independent woman.

Years of traversing across the world, chasing the next big stories, yet, amidst the allure of these places, this land had remained a comforting solace whenever the tempestuous of life threatened to overwhelm her.

The year 1955 marked a pivotal turning point in world political history. A sudden shift in societal norms emerged as women began to challenge traditional gender roles, venturing into professional domains once considered exclusively masculine.

Journalism, a career historically dominated by men, was no exception to this cultural shift. Characterised by its raw, unfiltered nature, the industry was often seen as unsuitable for women. Yet, Elena defied these antiquated stereotypes. With a spirit as invincible as the stories she pursued, she challenged the notion that gender was a determinant of capability. Her formidable senior editor, a woman of unparalleled ambition, served as a living testament to Elena's belief that women were equally adept at navigating the competitive world of journalism.

Undaunted by the traditional norms, Elena questioned the logic of such gender-based limitations. Why? She pondered. Should a woman's aspirations be confined by societal expectations? Was a woman not capable of forging her own path, of writing her own story?

Breathing in the soothing earthy scents of the land, a sense of profound peace washed over her. She reminded herself once more that this was home after all. For in all her wanderings, across lands and seas, she had never encountered a place that resonated with her spirit.

The rain-soaked earth, with its fresh musky scent, calmed the incessant chatter in her mind. The silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves and distant chirping of birds, was a symphony to her weary ears.

In the prime of her life, her parents, particularly her mother, had begun to express growing concern about her marital prospects. The traditional path – marriage, children, and family life – was the well-worn path they envisioned for her.

But their aspirations for her life diverged sharply from her own.

Well... It wasn't her fault at all.

Just a week ago, she had ended a five-year relationship with Tony Wilson. Elena’s carefully constructed world shattered, the man she had envisioned as her life partner, Tony Wilson, had betrayed her trust in the most callous way.

Yes.

The person she had trusted and loved most had betrayed her, leaving everything in ruins.

All the dreams of a white wedding, a house filled with laughter, and a lifetime of companionship had been cruelly extinguished in a single, heart-wrenching moment. His infidelity had left her reeling from the betrayal.

How could she have been so blind to the signs? Was she lacking in something?

What did she lack?

Maturity?

Intuition?

The questions echoed in her mind, a relentless torment. His feeble excuses of blaming Elena for always being out of town and busy only fueled her anger and resentment.She didn't get it; why did Tony cheat on her with a younger woman? Was it merely the year that separated their ages? Did being clingy and cute make Tony's heart flutter so much? His confession of why he cheated seemed absurd!

Irritated by the mere thought of him, she rolled her eyes, "Damn you, Tony Wilson!" She muttered a curse under her breath.

Love, once a cherished ideal, now seemed like a tiring charade. She needed breathing space, a chance to rebuild her shattered world. Work, she decided, would be her sanctuary.

But...

"A woman can't be alone forever, Elena." Her mother's voice echoed in her head. The phrase echoed in her mind, repeated over and over again, and with uncanny precision, she could precisely mimic the way her mother said it.

Brushing off the intrusive thoughts, she sought solace in her surroundings. The forest's well-preserved nature offered an abundance of edible plants and medicinal herbs. Hunters ventured deep into its heart, seeking exotic meats, especially during these frigid nights when homemade wine provided a welcome respite from the cold.

Following the well-worn path left by countless villagers, she tied a red vibrant ribbon to a slender shoot, a makeshift marker to guide her way back home later. Though visible in the dappled sunlight, she remained cautious, for the forest had a way of swallowing light earlier than expected.

Two days had passed since she escaped the city's frantic pace. These stolen moments in nature were a balm to her weary soul. With a camera slung over her shoulder, she captured the forest's raw beauty - sunlight filtering through a canopy of emerald leaves, the vibrant crimson of a newly sprung mushroom.

A sudden movement in her lens jolted her from her reverie. Though she hadn't strayed far, the forest harboured animals both large and small. Her heart pounded as she focused the lens, her finger hovering over the shutter button.

A man, cloaked in a garment of soft cream, emerged into view. His broad shoulder gave him an athletic allure with a classy attitude hints to Elena. Bent low, he examined something on the forest floor with an intensity that drew her gaze.

Lowering the camera, she squinted for a clearer view. Local legend whispered of beguiling ghouls luring men to their lairs, but this man, with his sun-kissed features, seemed out of place in the folklore. The myth didn't include a handsome stranger who could just as easily be from the village.

Caution warred with curiosity as she observed him.

Securing her belongings, she crept closer, her heart pounding in her ears, the crunch of leaves beneath her boots a stark contrast to the overwhelming silence.

One step, two steps, three... closer and closer...

Just as she was about to be rewarded with a clearer view, a gasp escaped her lips as the ground beneath her foot gave way.

A hunter's trap!

A deep voice, laced with warning, broke the tense silence, "Careful!"