A woman was washing her children one day when a god arrived at the door of her woodland hut. Embarrassed, she hid those who weren’t clean. But the god saw the deception and decreed that each one concealed would be hidden from humanity forever. Banished to the forests, these children became the huldra.
Since then, they’ve dwelt apart: the unexplained noises in the shifting, creaking forest, the sensation of being watched from the trees, and the fleeting movements in the corner of your eye.
The huldra are everything cities have lost: everything enlightenment, capital and patriarchy cast out. When our world has consumed itself in smoke, fire and virus, they’ll uproot concrete, grind down brick, and inherit the earth.
Until then, humanity’s one chance of transcedence is to journey into wilderness and shed the thin skin of civilisation that keeps us from ourselves.