Born in late autumn, Siggy was raised by a cattle farmer and local rider, Siggar, and his wife Ecgwynn. The homestead stood just on the outskirts of the village of Thornhope, in the shadow of Fangorn. The second of three children, her early childhood was largely occupied by her older brother Sigewínë, who often lead her off on adventures into the horsefields and moors beyond the village. But no matter how far they wandered, they made sure to keep clear of the forest.

      The forest itself was, in hindsight, a cause of many grievances for Sigfleda. From the moment she first wandered alone into the eaves, she felt connected to its looming, lichen-laden boughs and pools and creeks shrouded by mist in the hollows. But the village folk were wary of the woods, and often told tales of ill-fated wanderers, trees that moved as people do. The first time she was discovered venturing in, she was dragged before her parents and admonished, kept in the house for a week under a watchful eye. By the time she was sixteen, her escapades had given her an unsavory reputation. Only something twisted could bear such an affinity for Fangorn Forest. It was an evil place.

      Her sister Somerhild had never born much affection for the wood, although Siggy often tried to take her there when she went herself. A great beauty, and the golden child of the family, Somerhild was a favorite in the village as she grew up--filling in the holes of disappointment left by her older sister with praise and virtue. Somerhild's looks however often drew unwanted attention, and when it did so Siggy was always the first to intervene.

      Her strange ways had long caused people to suspect her of meddling in dark ways, from her dealings in the Eaves of Fangorn to the way her guesses were always a bit too lucky, and how her family's cattle were always larger and healthier than the others', even in times of blight or famine. Most times stepping in alone was enough to deter any wayward suitors of her sister, save for one. And when she was pushed to take her actions further, he made sure to get his revenge, and overturn the rest of her life in the process.

Raising her finger to point at the man, the young woman said in a low, grounded voice:

"You shall find no rest in a thousand nights.
Your food shall turn to ashes in your throat.
May your own herds run you into the dust.
This is my prediction; so must it be." 

"Witch," they murmured. "Sorceress. She does not speak in anger but with curses on her tongue."

Artwork:
1. Paul Lasaine
2. Harkale-Linai
3. AnnaHelme
4. PlusPNG