Every day the people in the village brought offerings to the small shrine in hopes of appeasing the god they believed took up residence there. Good favor would mean larger crop yields come harvest, they said. It would mean fewer deaths during the long winters.
But Henrietta knew in her soul there was no god at that shrine. It was no benevolent deity who would reward them for their devotions, but a demon glutting itself on their fears of starvation, sickness, and suffering,
She built the device from her fathers tools and set out to capture the evidence so she could show them their folly, and as she stepped into the woods she felt the dark minions of the demon whirling around her, urging her forward as if they expected to feed on the remains of whatever offering she brought to feed their master.