The woods are dark and wicked…

Deep beneath the whispering woods, under the light of a full moon, a human girl dances with the fey, feet bloodied, morals lost.

Beneath the same fat moon a witch gathers her herbs, cloak of red trailing behind.

Among stolen hearts and little lies, something lingers in the shadows, ancient and hungry, and far away from it all is a little girl with missing fingers.

A tangle of short tales and poems, words woven from the shadows of the Wicked Woods, the voices of new and old await.