‘The Weeping Pools’ by Cadence Mandybura

Sister Margaret needed to find out where the children were going at night.

She could have put a stop to it when she first noticed children slipping out of the lodge, but she was too curious to halt them just yet. If she understood where they were going, she would be better equipped to correct their behaviour. They were cunning about it, too: only a few went out each night, their empty beds camouflaged with heaped pillows that must have been donated by other children. Even in their truancy, they helped each other.

On the next clear night, Sister Margaret hid in a dark hollow of the chapel, where she had a good view of the lodge door. The cold kept her awake as she surveyed the silvery stillness of the forest, so different from her home country. She felt like she was trespassing into another world, with the edges and slopes of the landscape painted in chalky moonlight. They had made it through the worst of winter, but spring still seemed distant, a quiet rumour beneath the snow-dusted ground.
 
Over the course of an hour, she watched three small figures sneak out of the lodge. They all moved the same, taking a few stealthy steps away from the building before bursting into a run. After waiting long enough to determine that no more children were emerging, Sister Margaret began her pursuit. She was surprised to see that they had left their shoes behind, their tracks in the snow small curves with perfect toe-dots.