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With shaky hands, the old librarian took off his glasses, putting them down on the massive Oakwood table. He rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to shake away his exhaustion and sleepiness. He leaned on the table and stood up from his comfy chair, trying not to spill the glass of wine which one of the monks brought to him. The library of the Bukovo monastery is set in the basement and at this time of night there was nobody around, except for him, hundreds of books and a small extinguishing candle. He didn't care about that. He enjoyed it. He dedicated his whole life to the old pagan teachings, things that appeared in the dark and came from the dark. And, surrounded by the darkness, he could see more clearly the light coming from the books.

Work in damp libraries has taken its toll. The old bones were cracking, his wrists hurt, his back aching for a hard, smooth bed. He stretched out to ease the pain, and when that didn't work, he reached for the glass and drank it to the last drop. How it smoothly went down his throat. Like the nectar of the God's of Olympus. The relief that followed helped him to notice a slight flick of the shadows on the wall in front of him. An inexplicable shiver froze his body, while his heart started to boil. Adrenaline had widened his pupils and his eyes were scouting around the room, through and above the bookshelves, as if to confirm what he saw. Darkness, all around him. And peace, tranquility. The initial fear had abandoned him, but the feeling of not being alone has remained. He tried the rational approach, he attributed it all on the wine; after all he did drink four glasses. Yes, it must be the wine.

He managed to calm his mind and again sat down on the chair. He was determined to put all his attention on the title in front of him: "Vlach magic: the demons of old chronicles". At that moment, a cold breath of air slipped through the light of the candle and begun flipping the pages. In a heartbeat the room was filled with his rapid breathing. He sat there paralyzed, motionless, stiff. He didn't dear to escape, to call for help. He was deprived of all his courage. The pages stopped turning. He took a deep breath and, while his curiosity overwhelmed his fear, put on his reading glasses and leaned above the book to read the written text. "Find me in the forest!", it said. He jumped. Taking with him the candle he ran up the stairway.

The courtyard of the monastery was beautifully settled. The grass was neatly mowed and the alley well maintained by the skilled hands of the monks from Bukovo. On every step there were wonderful scented flowers, but the librarian didn't care about those kinds of things. In a hurry, he rushed to the monastery gate and the forest just outside the high enclosure. He didn't think, he didn't reconsider, he just kept on walking in the direction in which an unknown force was taking him. He was approaching the first line of trees and stopped. For a long moment he was observing the forest. There was no other sound than the one from his chest. The old heart was beating like a drum non-stop.

And then out of nowhere, a voice appeared. At first he thought he hears a funeral chant. As the words started to appear more sensible, his feet continued to walk towards the trees. The clear night sky and full moon were left behind him. Now he was beneath the treetops of some strange tree species, and under the spell of some strange voice. Time passed, the trail changed, and he still reluctantly kept on walking forward. He came to a clearing where just one tree stood. Strong fatigue finally caught up to him and his feet betrayed him. He fell to his knees, staring bluntly at the mysterious tree, listening to the voice which kept getting louder. At a glance, the branches began forming the shape of hands and hair, the trunk divided forming the shape of feet and the tree started to run towards him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He tried to move, to shout, but he was powerless to do so. He stayed in the praying position, at the mercy of the creature which was coming towards him.



The demon, who he tried to recognize, stopped just few steps away. Looming above him, showing him his warlock face. Fear overwhelmed the librarian, blocking every thought in his mind. Only the voice reached him, the terrible voice. Finally, he was able to speak and he, finding some strength and gasping for air, managed to say: "Who are you? What..." A terrifying scream spread across the forest. Shredding his earlobes, taking away his voice, and an unbearable pain knocked him down and put him unconscious.

The prior of the monastery started to worry when he noticed the librarian was not in his cell, the next morning. He sent a group of monks to look for him. They found him not too far from the monastery enclosure, near the forest. He was lying naked in the grass, without consciousness, almost without life in him. They took him to the infirmary, warmed him up and left him to rest. When the prior came to see him, he noticed that the librarian had lost the ability to speak, while his ability to hear was greatly damaged. He was hurt, pale and frightened. In all his horror, he managed to write down a few sentences on a piece of paper which was given to him. When the prior read them, disbelief swept his face. He quickly crossed himself and said a prayer. Then he wrote down two words himself on the piece of paper - Muma Padurii (Forest Mother).

The librarian's heart didn't withstand. It stopped beating at the moment of revelation. His body was laid to rest in the monastery chapel; tomorrow he was buried in the monastery graveyard. The monks held a requiem for a sad ending of a lonely life. During the whole that day, they could hear inhuman screams from the forest. Nobody ever dared to approach those trees. Nobodies lips ever dared to speak out the name of the librarian. Everyone tried to forget what haunted their thoughts. Only on the bluntly carved gravestone, bearing the unbearable truth and the sole trail of librarian's existance, was written: "Here lies he who saw Muma".