The tension within the cottage had become unbearable.
Elka barely slept anymore. Every night, she lay awake listening for footsteps outside, her hand resting near the knife she now kept within constant reach. The lack of sleep was taking its toll. During the day, she moved through the cottage like a ghost, restless, exhausted, and sharp-tempered. Dark circles had begun to form beneath her eyes, and even the smallest inconveniences grated on her nerves. She had not touched her embroidery in days. The half-finished handkerchief still sat on the table where she had abandoned it, the needle stuck in the exact same place, untouched and forgotten.
Mara was bearing the worst of her mood.
Elka knew she was being unfair, but the constant fear had worn her patience raw. Every knock at the door made her tense. Every unfamiliar sound outside sent her heart racing. The strain of living under a constant threat had left her irritable and withdrawn.
