Nadia was fourteen years old and lived in Birchwood, a town by a river. Beyond the river was the beginning of the Wrong Forest, about which the adults spoke in whispers. Her grandmother had left her a map, drawn in thin green ink on parchment. In the margin there was a mark, resembling an eye arranged from autumn leaves. "The bridge appears when no one is breathing," her grandmother repeated, closing the window for the night. Nadia didn't believe in a bridge made of leaves, she believed in logic and torches. Nevertheless, she took a map, a compass and a glass jar for light. Dusk floated over the water like thin steam from a kettle. The lantern by the bridge blinked, as if it could not decide whether it was still asleep. Nadia knelt in the grass and unrolled a parchment that smelled slightly of mint. When she touched the ink with her finger, the lines flicked and moved a millimetre to the side. "It's just dampness," she said loudly, although no one was listening. A bell-like sound came from the river, hidden somewhere deep under the water. A shadow moved in the middle of the current, as if someone was pulling back a curtain. Nadia held her breath, unconsciously counting to ten in her mind, slowly. The water calmed and swirled, forming a circular mirror under the stars. Leaves slipped out of the mirror, dry, yet fresh and green. Each leaf stopped in mid-air, as if someone had hooked it with an invisible thread. A path emerged, leading straight into the mist over the middle of the river, silently. "Hello?" - whispered Nadia, and the echo repeated her name from the other bank. Then a voice, thin and quiet, called her name once more. "Don't turn around," he added, as if he knew her thoughts better than she knew herself. Nadia set foot on the first leaf, which lifted her springily. Lights shimmered under the water, like a night city seen upside down. Each successive step made the map in her pocket pulsate with warmth. After the third step, the river reflected a sky that shouldn't be here. Three black birds glided over the path, carrying red threads in their beaks. On the other side, the mist parted and revealed a silhouette in a granny blue shawl, standing motionless on the bank. The silhouette raised its head, and the face Nadia saw was not human.