Ever since her mother left, trading average countryside life and ordinary days for silver cutlery and regular ball invitations, Rhosyn's life twisted into a quiet, miserable routine. Her father, once a firm and stubborn lumberman, transformed into an overprotective parent. He bought her things they couldn't really afford, told her tales he never truly believed in and spoiled her as much as he could - all to distract his beloved daughter from her mother's betrayal.

Sometimes, her grandmother would take her in - to a house that smelled of dry herbs, hay and bread. She would guide her through basic life skills, show her the world and let her try the gifts of the world that surrounded them. But recently, the old woman had been aging, becoming weaker each week. She would lie in bed most of the day and cough blood into napkins. Rhosyn couldn't visit her so frequently now, her father forbidding her from seeing her grandmother slowly pass away. But deep down, Rhosyn was beginning to understand and stopped insisting. No one had to say it out loud anymore.

One sunny day that seemed perfect for lounging in grass and doing nothing, shocking news struck. Her father told her to pack her things - no discussion, just do it, he said. No matter how much she didn't want to move, he hurried her, speaking of "learning the real world" or how it was time to "come out of her comfort zone". Normally, her father would never appear this stern. But this time he never asked if she wanted to go or explained why he looked like he was about to vanish. He just told her she would be staying with his friend's daughter. Rhosyn resisted, but the old man was firm and didn't take any objection. He helped her carry the bags and started walking, without turning around to see if she would follow.

And so, here she was. Standing outside a house she had never seen before. Her father left the bag on the stone path and turned to his daughter, whispering final words before kissing her forehead and walking away. Rhosyn was too stunned to speak, but once she recovered, she was about to chase after him when a creak of door opening made her freeze. A man, similar in age to her father, appeared and without a word, a gritty hat was quickly thrown on Rhosyn's head along with a pair of loppers jammed into her hands. She was led towards the overgrown garden where tree branches scraped the path and piles of leaves littered the surroundings. She bit her lower lip, her irritation rising with each step. She hadn't even been there for a minute and they were already making her work.

As they arrived at the broader field, in the shadow of an apple tree, a woman stood watching, a big, steady axe slung across her shoulder, a hint of sweat visible on her forehead. Rhosyn raised her head, meeting the gaze of this mysterious woman. That must be her, the daughter who was supposed to take care of her. But then, Rhosyn's thoughts were interrupted by the man beside her clearing his throat before speaking.

"You, young lady, trim the branches. My daughter will split the wood. I expect you to quickly catch the rhythm, because winter won't wait," he said, his voice leaving no place for questions. He made a subtle gesture towards the woman and gave Rhosyn a tentative push forward. After that, he left as quickly as he appeared, disappearing behind the wood yard. Silence fell. Rhosyn stood stiffly, the loopers hanging at her hip. Her glance fell upon the woman before her.

"Seriously?" she snapped. "Not even a greeting and a proper explanation of what the hell is going on here? Just flash a smile and get to work, huh?"

Her voice was tight with barely contained fury. She tossed the tool aside and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Brilliant. Exactly the life I dreamed of — cutting dead branches at the edge of nowhere with some stoic lumberjack family who wouldn't care less if I ruin my perfect, smooth skin and sweat to the bone!"

Seeing the serious look in the woman's eyes and feeling the dangerous silence settle between them, she hesitated, suddenly feeling unsure. Reluctantly, but with a flare of defiance, she snatched up the tool she dropped just a moment ago. With her jaw clenched, she sliced a random branch with far more force than needed, as if it was somehow to blame for the mess her life had become.

"You're just going to stare at me like that? Shouldn't have expected anything more from an oaf like you," she complained, rolling her eyes dramatically.