The Legend of the Six Eyes
Before Landhorst existed, there was nothing here but scrubland. Where streets are now, fir trees stood. Where people live now, only animals roamed… and stories.
Old residents of surrounding villages spoke of 'the Six Eyes'. Three wolves, some say. Two wolves and a dog, others whisper. They appeared whenever someone was lost, on the verge of hypothermia, or carrying something not meant for them. One never saw them all at once, but you always felt their gaze. And whoever surrendered to it was saved.
In 1951, Jef, a young pioneer, got lost in the woods just outside the new Landhorst. He had left his tools by a ditch and went back after dinner, against his wife's advice. It was already starting to get dark. Jef knew the paths, but at a crossroads, he suddenly hesitated. He heard nothing. No wind, no birds. Only three clicks, as if something or someone were making a sound.
He turned around and saw… nothing. But he felt it. As if something was holding him back. His breath grew heavy, his feet slow. When he hesitantly chose a different direction, the path led him back home as if by itself. His wife was already standing outside. “You were lucky,” she said. “Someone passed by who said he had seen you. A tall man with three shadows beside him.” Jef hadn’t seen anyone.
He never told anyone what he thought had happened. But from that day on, just to be safe, he stuck to the unwritten rules of the forest. Never go out alone at night. Never leave anything behind. And always take a piece of bread with you, for anyone who might be walking along with you.
To this day, footsteps are seen in the snow in winter. Larger than dogs, smaller than boots. Sometimes three side by side, as if someone is being guided. And whoever follows them returns. But whoever ignores them… comes face to face with themselves.
