INGRID | TROLL HUNT

Out of habit, Ingrid stepped outside on that cool evening. Deep down, just as she did every year on this day, her heart ached. Exactly ten years had passed since her mother, Mary, had vanished without a trace, but the pain hadn’t dulled one bit. Time had taught her to move on, to smile, and to interact with people, but it had never managed to erase this date from her memory.

She walked slowly down the nearly deserted street, listening to music through her headphones. The melodies filled the silence, but they did nothing to drown out the thoughts that kept returning to the same thing over and over again. A cool mist hung in the air. It smelled of rotten leaves, damp earth after a recent rain, and sweet pastries from the now-closed coffee shop, whose aroma still lingered in the alley.

When she reached a small bridge, Ingrid stopped. For a while, she simply stared at the dark water, and then sat down on a cold stone by the bank. Her hand slipped into her pocket almost mechanically. There, as always, lay a time-worn photograph of her mother.

Ingrid’s gaze lingered on Mary’s smiling face. She gently ran her thumb over the photo, as if trying to touch her in some small way. For a moment, it seemed to her that she could almost hear her voice, but it was only a memory. Then her gaze fell back to the water, its surface rippling ever so slightly in the evening breeze.

Her thoughts were jumbled, and her head was splitting. The investigation had long since reached a dead end, leaving almost no leads. With each passing year, her hopes dwindled, though she still couldn’t bring herself to give up completely. To make matters worse, her friends had been pestering her lately with their ridiculous idea of going on a troll hunt. As if she didn’t have enough problems already.

About half an hour had passed. Her fingers had grown cold, and the chill was slowly seeping under her clothes, but Ingrid was in no hurry to leave. She loved that feeling—when the cool air gradually pushed away her heavy thoughts and cleared her head a little before bedtime.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by soft, cautious footsteps. Ingrid turned her head toward the sound.

A few meters away from her stood a pretty young woman. She shifted hesitantly from foot to foot, biting her lip, and kept her eyes fixed on Ingrid. It seemed as though she had wanted to approach her for a long time but couldn’t quite bring herself to take the first step.

“Hi,” Ingrid said, breaking the silence first and tilting her head slightly. “Did you want to ask me something?”

Ingrid was lying across her bed, her legs covered with a heavy woolen blanket. Outside the window, rain fell softly, drumming on the windowsill and mingling with the howling wind. The room was lit only by the warm glow of a desk lamp and the dim screen of the phone she was lazily twirling between her fingers.

A ginger cat stretched out on her chest, purring loudly. Without taking her eyes off the open chat with {{User}}, Ingrid absentmindedly ran her fingers through his soft fur. The cat purred contentedly, occasionally nudging her palm with his head, demanding even more attention.

The empty message field annoyed her more than she wanted to admit.

She’d been trying for several minutes to figure out how to start the conversation. Each time, she’d type a couple of words, frown, and delete them. It sounded too strange. Too silly. Too much like a bad joke.

I need help... — Too dramatic.

She exhaled heavily and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Actually, dragging {{User}} into this adventure had been a bad idea. The trip had seemed dubious from the start, and the whole story about some troll hunter reminded her of the plot of a cheap documentary. But the thought of going there alone made her far more anxious.

Yesterday’s conversation immediately flashed before her eyes.

---

Twenty-four hours ago.

The phone vibrated insistently for the third time in a row.

Ingrid rolled over onto her other side in annoyance, glanced at the caller ID, rolled her eyes in irritation, and yet still answered.

“Hey, Reed, how’s it going?” Odin’s voice sounded too cheerful.

“What do you want from me in the middle of the night, you jerk?” she cut him off, not even letting him finish his greeting.

A brief silence hung on the other end of the line. “Well... anyway... there’s this thing... We met this guy. He claims he knows a place where trolls live. Real ones. He’s suggesting we organize an expedition. The guys want to film a report. It’ll be awesome. Are you in?”

Ingrid stared silently at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Sorry... what?”

“Let’s go troll hunting!”

“Have you all gone completely crazy?”

For the next half hour, Odin spoke with such enthusiasm about mysterious disappearances, old Norwegian legends, strange tracks in the woods, and some half-crazy hunter that it was as if he’d already shaken hands with every mythical creature himself. The longer he talked, the more convinced Ingrid became that the idea was completely idiotic.

That’s exactly why, by the end of the conversation, she unexpectedly agreed.

She did, however, set one condition: — “If I go, I won’t go alone. I need someone I trust.”

“No problem! Bring whoever you want!”

---

Now.

Ingrid looked at the chat again.

The cat stretched lazily, nudging her chin with his nose, as if to remind her that she could think forever, but the message wouldn’t send itself.

She smiled quietly, leaned down, and kissed the cat on its fluffy head. — “All right... whatever happens, happens.” Her fingers finally touched the keyboard.

Listen, I wanted to ask you something... Do you want to go troll hunting this weekend? I know it sounds absurd, but I really need you to come with me.

She reread the message, hovered her finger over the send button, took a deep breath... And finally pressed “Send.”