ã€ŠAll I wanted was a simple lifeã€‹


 Ch. 1 Are you satisfied?

    I was an orphan. Not in a sad way, though. What I mean is that my parents didn¡¯t want me. No one did. So I grew up in an orphanage, never having anything of my own, even time. Gotta look after the younger ones. Gotta make sure they¡¯re not alone, give them someone. Gotta work for those few words of praise and thanks, the only ones I ever heard.

    School was funny. I didn¡¯t have friends, not really my choice. I looked weird, acted weird, was weird. Came from a different world to everyone else. So I kept to myself, doing homework between classes, living in the library. Didn¡¯t read stories, though. Encyclopaedias, listening to podcasts about farming and watermills, imagining a quaint life out in the countryside. Somewhere without people. Because, if there were people, then I knew I¡¯d be trying to please them. Didn¡¯t have to think about it, just knew.

    Well, that was a life I knew I¡¯d never have. I did okay at school, my grades average. No plans to go to university. All I knew was the orphanage and, once I graduated, I intended on working there¡ªor somewhere else with children.

    ¡°Is that really what you want?¡±

    I paused, frowning as I looked around for who had said that.

    ¡°Loulou?¡±

    I shook my head, then looked down at the girls, smiling. ¡°It¡¯s nothing, let¡¯s keep going,¡± I said, pulling them back into action.

    My morning routine, I walked the youngest girls to their kindergarten. It wasn¡¯t exactly on my way, but not really out the way either, and they were all good girls who listened and didn¡¯t run off. In the couple years I¡¯d been doing it, we¡¯d never had any problem worse than a scraped knee.

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s cross,¡± I said, tugging them over the road.

    Quiet, there weren¡¯t even any cars at this hour, all the traffic the other side of the school. So quiet I heard the truck before it was close.

    My stomach fell. ¡°Run! Quickly, quickly!¡± I shouted, pulling them, panic flooding my head, making it so hard to think. They screamed, ran, maybe fast enough, maybe not. Nothing made sense. Screams, all around me.

    Behind me.

    ¡°Hatty!¡±

    I pushed the last girl with me onto the pavement and then turned, running back to the fallen girl on the road. Out the corner of my eye, I knew the truck was there, closer and closer, horn blaring, like it was getting faster.

    ¡°Loulou,¡± Hatty whispered, her voice piercing me through everything else going on.

    Picking her up, I said, ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    But she wouldn¡¯t, I knew. Knew the truck was right behind me. Knew everything and yet didn¡¯t know what to do.

    So I threw her.

    I fell to the side, moving as far as I could as fast as I could, and used that momentum to throw her that little more.

    And then I died, gaze full of the children I¡¯d never see again.

    There was no pain, no regret, just a floating sensation. Floating in a twilight sea. Twisting and turning, no idea which way was up, no clue how long had passed, only knowing that every breath out felt so good. Never a breath in, only out. Like I was venting out every grievance I¡¯d never dared say.

    When I had no breath left, I finally heard a gentle laugh. Delicate, fluttering, like a breeze.

    ¡°Louise, such an end, such a beginning, everything between,¡± the voice said¡ªthe same voice I¡¯d heard before¡ª¡°I cannot bear to leave things like this. Tell me, are you satisfied?¡±

    ¡°Satisfied¡­¡± I whispered, curling up. Who could have been satisfied with that? The more I thought, the tighter I curled up, trying to hide the prickling tears threatening to spill. I wasn¡¯t some monk who chose to give up material desires, nor a nun devoted to serving some greater good.

    I was just a child who had nothing.

    As if the voice had heard that, she chose that moment to stroke my head. A gentle touch, warm, sending a bloom of warmth down my spine, reaching into my every tensed muscle and relaxing them.

    ¡°How would you like to go to a fantastical world where you can do anything your heart desires?¡± she said.

    No need to think, I said, ¡°I¡¯d like that very much.¡±

    ¡°What of a gift? Perhaps you would like to have incredible magical ability, or an affinity with the wildlife, or a knack for finding great treasures,¡± she said.

    That all sounded great, but I already felt like she was doing a lot for me. ¡°How about I don¡¯t have any more periods?¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Her laughter sounded again, more tinkling this time. ¡°Really? Of all the wishes I could grant, you would ask for that?¡±

    Getting defensive, I said, ¡°I bet you don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like. Especially in the orphanage, it¡¯s not like I had extra pads or spare clothes to wear. I dreaded those days so much¡­.¡±

    Her tone sounding much softer, she said, ¡°It is granted. And please, find satisfaction in this life.¡±

    Floating again, I felt her leave like a cloud blocking the sun, the warmth I took for granted bleeding away. Cold, my muscles tensed up again. Twilight sank into darkness, such darkness, endless darkness.

    Then I gasped, jerking upright, drawing as much air into my lungs as I could. Light and sounds and air against my skin and ground beneath my butt. I felt it all, overwhelmed, gradually recovering until I could open my eyes.

    A forest. Unfamiliar. The trees¡¯ bark looked wine-stained, plants a peculiar periwinkle, ground reddish as if rusty. Well, she¡¯d said it was a fantastical world.

    A lot went through my mind. I guessed there were probably villages and towns and even cities, that there was magic and magical creatures to go with it, and probably a lot more. A vast and wondrous place, full of excitement.

    I didn¡¯t want that.

    After some wandering, I found a stream and followed it up to a spring. The water came out warm, not hot, but pleasant. Looking around, it wasn¡¯t exactly a clearing. Rather, some way up a mountain, the trees thinned out and woody shrubs stuck to the stream¡¯s banks.

    Like an echo, old podcasts played in my head, flashes of pages like a movie, and I moved.

    A rocky outcrop close by, I started dragging fallen branches there. It surprised me how light the branches were, always thinking wood was kind of heavy, but apparently not¡ªat least, not this wood. Once I had a good pile, I started weaving them as best I could, careful not to snap them. Scavenging for vines, I found enough to tie the edges of my makeshift wall together. Next, I plucked bunches of leaves and threaded them in, gradually making it more airtight. It wouldn¡¯t keep off the rain, but at least stop a breeze.

    As I did all that, I looked out for food. While I didn¡¯t know what counted for common sense in this world, I avoided berries, picking fruits instead. There were also some patches of unusual leaves on the ground where I managed to find some vegetables.

    Of course, nothing looked familiar, the shapes normal enough but with strange colours. A firm fruit like an apple, the skin fuzzy like a peach¡¯s but a purplish colour. A carrot-like vegetable, except it was pinkish once washed.

    Without a pot, there wasn¡¯t much cooking I could do, but I cleared a space out by the spring and put together a fire there.

    Although I hadn¡¯t found anything like flint, I had some good sticks for the job. With the pointiest rock I¡¯d found, I made a small hole in one stick, just big enough for the tip of my thinner stick to fit in, and started rolling that thinner stick between my hands. I was worried at first, but something like soot started to build up in the hole along with a trickle of smoke. Unsure how much I needed, I kept going for a bit longer, then carefully poured the ¡°charcoal dust¡± into a pile of crushed leaves that looked like sawdust.

    Worried the whole time, I nursed the trickle of smoke as it grew until, finally feeling the heat, I added dry bark to the pile, gently blowing. Step by step, the fire grew to engulf snapped branches.

    With this, I wrapped up the vegetables in wet leaves and left them at the fire¡¯s base. Evening settling in¡ªand it wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d spent the day idle¡ªI really was hungry, so started with the fruit. Still, I only took a small bite of one kind and waited to see if I¡¯d swell up or feel sick. Nothing happened, though, so I ate a few of those fruits.

    Did I forget to say it tasted amazing? A kind of creamy sweetness, the fruit falling apart as I chewed, kind of like banana how it spread on my tongue, paired with a taste as sweet as strawberries, but a cleaner sweetness like syrup. Sort of like if ice-cream was a fruit. Well, maybe it only tasted so sweet because I was so hungry.

    Oh I wanted to eat even more, but I knew what happened from eating too much fruit and I really didn¡¯t want to deal with the runs, so I put the rest of those and the other fruit I¡¯d scavenged to the side for now.

    However, my expectations were certainly set for the carrot-y vegetable.

    On the thinner side, I didn¡¯t leave them to cook long and pulled them out with a stick. They kept hissing for a while, or at least the leaves did; I spent that time sharpening a stick and then sterilised it over the fire. A little charred, but that¡¯d surely just add to the flavour. Unwrapping the vegetable was tricky with only a stick and the vegetable had softened, not too happy about getting skewered, so it took a while to have my first bite.

    Again, I only had a bite. Although it wasn¡¯t as sweet as the fruit, it had some, sort of like sweet potato.

    Leaning back, I looked up. Smoke trailed into the sky, dispersed by an unfelt wind high above, sparse clouds caught in an invisible river, stars twinkling beyond. So many stars. I had spent my life in the city, the only night skies I¡¯d seen in books or on the computer.

    ¡°Beautiful,¡± I muttered.

    The cold dug into my back while my front prickled from the fire¡¯s heat. The goddess¡ªafter thinking about it, I couldn¡¯t call her anything else¡ªhad been kind enough to send me to this world in sturdy clothes. Woollen trousers, a vest and shirt and jumper, comfortable boots. For now, I took off the jumper and wore it like a cloak, shuffling closer to the fire.

    It couldn¡¯t last, I knew. If only because my clothes would eventually fall apart, I would have to find a village, have to go back to pleasing people.

    The fire crackled and spluttered, at times even scaring me, popping right by my feet. My stomach unfazed by the vegetable, I ate the rest of them. How long had it been since I¡¯d last eaten without sharing my food? Since I¡¯d last eaten until I was full? Since I¡¯d eaten in silence?

    Had I ever?

    Smiling, I looked up again.

    No need to keep the fire going, I let it burn out, then buried it with dirt. I would have used water, but the charcoal remains would help with starting the next fire. No reason to stay up when it was only getting colder, I retired to the rocky outcrop, fixing the leaf-and-branch wall over the front of the crevice I settled into. Although I¡¯d stuffed it with leaves, they didn¡¯t really cushion anything.

    That was okay, though, I was used to sleeping while sitting up on the floor next to beds. Never knew when a little one would have a nightmare.

    Such loud silence, full of whistling wind and chirping insects, so different to the steady breaths of sleeping children.

    After a while, I couldn¡¯t help but cry, silently sobbing, shoulders shaking. I hoped they could sleep tonight. After what they¡¯d seen, I hoped they could sleep soundly, could forget about it, forget me.

    Once all those silent tears were spilled, I curled up even tighter.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± I said, knowing no one would hear it.

 Ch. 2 Expanding her diet

    Morning dawned in a loud silence. Birds chirped, the stream trickled, breeze fluttering the leaves of my wall. It took me a long moment to realise it hadn¡¯t all been a dream. With a bittersweet smile, I uncurled, stretching out as much as I could in the rocky crevice.

    I started my day unceremoniously digging a hole and gathering more of the soft leaves I¡¯d found yesterday. Once done with defecating, I rinsed my hands the best I could with just water, then had some fruit for breakfast. A little pick-me-up. Besides, it took so much effort to start a fire, better to save it for the evening when it could keep me warm too.

    Not so worried for food and shelter today, I started exploring. To keep from getting lost, I didn¡¯t stray far from the stream, following it down.

    For the most part, I just saw more of the same and even filled my arms with more of the sweet potato-like carrots. However, I caught glimpses of small creatures, animals somewhere between squirrels and foxes in size, but that was where the similarity ended. Hard to tell when I barely saw them and they were off in the shadows, maybe not even furry, they looked more purplish and moved in these little leaps, stretching out and coiling up.

    The birds, albeit nothing like any birds I¡¯d seen before, still looked birdish. Maybe I just had low standards for birds. Two wings, a beak, and feathers was enough for me. Some looked like the trees, camouflaged as they sat up on the branches, their singing what gave them away. Others were more colourful, like covered in rubies and sapphires how their feathers glittered in the rays of sunshine spilling through the canopy.

    I had no interest in the animals beyond admiring them, though. As long as I had other food to eat, there was no need to think about hunting or trapping or anything like that.

    Back up at my camp, the carrots I¡¯d found were added to my ¡°larder¡±: another crevice in the rocky outcrop, closed off by a fairly flat stone. It wouldn¡¯t do if those animals came and ate my food.

    Although there was no stream to follow up, I had some more fruit for lunch, then climbed the mountain. The trees already thinning, I didn¡¯t expect to find much higher up. Rather than food, I was interested in flint, something to make it easier to start fires or help with cooking. To that end, I did find slate-like rock, a thin sheet of stone that hopefully wouldn¡¯t take too long to heat up, maybe usable for frying.

    After dropping that off at camp, I went back up. As much as I wanted to collect every usable-looking rock, I just made sure they were easy to spot for when I came back, no need to carry stones up a mountain.

    By the camp, the slope wasn¡¯t all that steep; above, it was all that steep, nowhere near vertical, but a good forty-five degrees. I took it slow, using the sparse trees as goals and resting points and I also left marks on them to keep from getting lost.

    It was interesting seeing the foliage change as I climbed. The grass grew longer, yet was tinged brown; I guessed there wasn¡¯t much rain up here and no spring either. Behind me, the forest stretched out to the horizon, following the rise and fall of the land, shimmering in mossy greens and ocean teals and wine purples. Darker colours than I was used to, but then the sun didn¡¯t feel as bright either and that was maybe why, every plant thirsty for light, drinking it all up.

    I didn¡¯t mind that colder sun too much right now, working up a sweat from the exercise as I was. It wasn¡¯t like I expected climbing a mountain to be easy, but I hoped to find something soon, otherwise I¡¯d just be bringing rocks back.

    Those heavy thoughts weighed me down and kept me looking for a reason to turn back. Eventually, my wish was granted, seeing a ridge above. I thought there¡¯d probably be interesting rocks that rolled down the mountain there, probably my best chance to find flint. So I climbed with a burst of energy.

    Only, it wasn¡¯t a ridge but a plateau. Not just any plateau, something like wheat spread out across it, thin, golden stalks with brownish heads, hair-like strands sticking out.

    I scrambled up and rushed over, inspecting the closest ones. The difference between stuff like wheat and rye and oats wasn¡¯t something I knew, but it wasn¡¯t like this grain would be the same as any in my world, probably just similar.

    Closer up, I could tell they were in different stages, some kernels that kind of purple-green I¡¯d seen in other plants, some lightening to more of a hazel. Testing their texture, the purple ones were soft and kind of popped, leaking something milky like a cut stem, while the browner ones were firmer. Not just that, I noticed the brown heads were often missing a chunk or two while the purple ones were always intact.

    If I hadn¡¯t already guessed why, the small bird fluttering near to me and pecking at one of the brown heads would have given me a clue.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Eager to make some ¡°cereal¡±, I considered what stalks to collect. As obvious as it was to find the biggest kernels, that would leave the smallest kernels behind to sow the next generation¡ªthe unintuitive nature of selective breeding. So I took my sharpish rock and cut the stalks low on the smallest ones I could find. While I could have just taken the heads, I wanted to see if the stalks would make good straw for kindling or thatching.

    Once I collected enough to fill my arms, I started walking back. Not like I¡¯d harvested my own wheat before, I had no clue how much food I¡¯d actually gathered, but it wasn¡¯t like I could even bring back more this trip. It took me longer to get back than to climb up, taking more care since I couldn¡¯t use my hands. A few times, I felt my balance go, stomach sinking as I thought I¡¯d have to drop my harvest, but I managed to recover every time, boots really gripping even on the loose stones and dry dirt of the mountainside.

    Back at the camp, I collapsed, breathless. The steep incline didn¡¯t make it easy going up or down and I hated that I would probably be going back a lot to gather more.

    For now, I drank some water from the spring and snacked on fruits, then I put the grain away to cure, echoes of podcasts in my ears. It needed a few days to dry out before threshing and something else¡ªthreshing loosened the husks and the other step removed them. The stalks needed time to dry into hay too.

    Already thinking about food, my thoughts drifted to my diet. There was no way to know what nutrients the stuff I ate had (other than sugar), but, if things were similar, I would need protein. Legumes¡ªbeans.

    Working all day nothing new to me, I pushed myself up. While I could have gone farther away to look, I felt like it was a better idea to check the area around my camp, not like I¡¯d checked over every plant yet. So that was what I did, shuffling around the lightly forested area and inspecting the plants, particularly the bigger ones. Beans didn¡¯t usually grow underground. Well, peanuts did, but I wasn¡¯t going to dig up every plant to check.

    Although progress was slow, the work was easier than climbing a mountain. Under the trees¡¯ shade, it felt nice and cool, air refreshing to breathe.

    Eventually, I ended up at a fruit tree I¡¯d already picked. Not all the fruits, of course, just the lowest ones, leaving the rest for later¡ªor never if they had made me sick. Since I was here, I looked around for a long stick and then started knocking down some more.

    And I noticed the lower branches were budding.

    The buds definitely hadn¡¯t been there before, but had they really grown in a day? Of all the answers, the simplest was that I hadn¡¯t noticed them; I couldn¡¯t accept that, though. Yes, I was kind of under a lot of stress I was ignoring, but that was also why I definitely hadn¡¯t missed anything. The last day was so vivid in my mind.

    No, these buds were where I¡¯d plucked fruits. To bud so quickly, it had to be magic, right?

    As much as that discovery had shaken me, I went back to looking for beans. There was all evening to think and only so much daylight.

    It took another hour or so, but my effort proved fruitful¡ªor rather, legumeful. A woody-looking bush curled around the base of the tree, but the branches were supple, easily moving when I checked inside. Spiral pods hung down, purplish, but some had already popped open, showing off small, flat peas, looking like lentils in beige shades.

    If they were like lentils, then that was great for my protein intake.

    Back at my camp, I emptied the pods and left the seeds to soak in a basin-like rock. It wasn¡¯t that big, but I only collected the pods from one bush, so it did the job. While it would be nice to sprout them, I wanted to make sure I could eat them first. Gathering more and waiting a few days would be fine once I knew they were edible.

    That led to my next problem: I obviously hadn¡¯t stumbled upon a metal pot and it wasn¡¯t like I could individually wrap each ¡°pea¡± in a leaf and bake it by the fire. If I wanted to heat the basin, who knew how long it would take.

    In the end, I used some sticks and vines to make some supports, holding up the thin slab I¡¯d found.

    Morning and afternoon spent, evening approached. I wasn¡¯t as worried starting the fire today. Step by step, I got some embers burning, then caught the leftover charcoal from yesterday, easily getting the flames to a good size.

    For my main meal, I wrapped up more of the carrots and left them to bake. The peas probably could have used longer to soak, but I took out some to try, drying them with the front of my shirt.

    I dripped a drop of water on the slab and the droplet immediately fizzled away. Hoping it was level enough, I carefully put on the peas and picked up a clean stick to push them around. They weren¡¯t exactly pleased with the situation, sticking, sizzling, steam rushing out in a whine, but I managed to keep them from burning, pushing them around and flipping them over often.

    After a few minutes, they looked wrinkled with brown spots. Deciding that was enough, I pushed them off onto a fairly flat rock.

    Small, I didn¡¯t wait long for them to cool, popping the first one in and chewing it up. It certainly tasted like a pea, not really a strong taste to it, but a hint of both bitter and sweet, maybe caramelised from the frying. Passing the taste test, I ate the rest of the small portion and waited.

    Nothing.

    Every minute brought me a little more relief, happy to have another food¡ªhopefully one high in protein. Eventually, I moved on to the carrots, filling up on them. After so much exercise, I really needed that.

    The sun set, the fire burned, and I sat there, full. So easy to think of nothing when I didn¡¯t have to ignore my own hunger. So easy when there weren¡¯t the sounds of sleeping children around, any pause in their breathing enough to put me into carer mode, ready to address whatever problem came up.

    When the fire started to die down, I tidied up. Put away the spare food, lodged the soaking peas in my larder. Wasn¡¯t much I could do to clean the slab, but I wasn¡¯t worried, definitely hot enough to be sterile for next time.

    After that, I covered up the embers with some dirt and snuggled into my bedroom. So cramped, uncomfortable, but mine. A room to call my own. And after doing so much today, sleep came easily.

 Ch. 3 First rain

    A cold drip on my face jerked me awake, staring at the darkness for the long moment it took me to find my senses. Another drop. The pitter-patter of rain, air thick with moisture. I swore under my breath, then curled up tighter in the crevice, thinking up a plan.

    After a minute or so, I felt confident in what I needed to do. A last deep breath and I slipped out my room, dashed around to the other crevice I used as a larder, checking water wasn¡¯t pooling in there. Fortunately, I¡¯d chosen well, some rain streaming down the rock, but draining out the bottom. I shuffled everything over a bit to make sure and piled up some rocks to add an overhang, keeping that trickle of rainwater out.

    Although the rain wasn¡¯t too heavy yet, I was getting damp, so I hoped that would do and rushed over to the trees. While I didn¡¯t know if there would be lightning, I was pretty glad I hadn¡¯t set up camp under the trees. Saved me that one worry.

    I dug a small hole and gathered some leaves, getting another worry out the way. Not like my room came with an en-suite bathroom.

    Once done with that, I stretched out under the tree¡¯s protection, then plucked more leaves. A good pile in my arms, I ran back to my room and shuffled into the crevice. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but I pushed more leaves into my makeshift wall, ignoring the drops that made it through. Fingers cold, numb, yet I couldn¡¯t stop, clumsily stuffing wherever it looked like more leaves could fit.

    Finally, I ran out of leaves. My breaths came out heavy, rain drumming a fast beat against the leaves and rock, wind reaching around the wall to pinch at my exposed skin.

    But barely a drop came through.

    Relieved, I sank into the crevice, losing shape as my tense muscles relaxed. Now that I didn¡¯t have to worry, I closed my eyes. Pitter-patter went the rain, against the leaves, against the rock, splashing in puddles. So nice.

    Before, I¡¯d only really heard the rain if it blew against the windows, so it was mostly just a nuisance. Left puddles on the way to school, mud in the garden, made the children cold and oh did they love complaining about that.

    Now, though, I listened, the rain sounding so pretty.

    I never had naps before, but there was nothing to do and nothing to really think about. Little by little, I felt the dreams come, drifting in and out of sleep, sometimes deaf, other times the rain so loud I couldn¡¯t think even if I wanted to.

    I didn¡¯t want to, though. I didn¡¯t want to remember what I¡¯d left behind. They were fine, I told myself. They had to be fine.

    So I listened to the rain until dreams took me, drifting in and out, one moment in the library back at school, the next back in the dim crevice, rain so loud I wasn¡¯t sure I could even sleep.

    But sleep I did.

    It wasn¡¯t obvious when the rain started, clouds thick enough to hide the sun. When it lightened to a drizzle, though, it looked bright enough to be midday. When it finally stopped, I shuffled out, eager to at least eat some fruit. Looking up, it seemed like midafternoon. It was only my third day, but I had a sense of where the sun rose and set, easy to keep my bearings with the mountain¡¯s slope.

    First things first, I went off to pee. Listening to the rain while curled up had become torture by the end. After that, I washed my hands and enjoyed some fruit. I was still hesitant to eat too much, though, so prepared myself to go hungry today.

    The slab had kept the buried charcoal from getting soaked, but the dirt still looked damp and my fire-making sticks had been left out. I sighed. There hadn¡¯t been any clouds in the sky last night, so I hadn¡¯t even thought about rain. I was lucky my larder kept the wheat dry.

    Although there was no chance of a fire today, the least I could do was prepare for tomorrow onwards. Going for a walk, I meandered from tree to tree, snapping off dry branches and gathering twigs that had been spared from the rain, piling them up at the base of the largest tree by my camp.

    I checked on the fruit tree again while I did. The buds had already flowered, pretty blossoms made of crescent petals that nestled together in a bumpy circle, pale violet with an amber centre. In the time I checked it out, a few insects buzzed over to presumably collect nectar. Strange things, sort of like dragonflies, but without the long tails, maybe better to describe them as butterflies with see-through wings and scaly bodies. Well, I gave them space. No interest in a close-up look.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Thoughts of the fruit tree followed me back to the camp. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. If the fruits would grow back so fast, I wondered if the tree itself grew fast too. That led me to checking where I¡¯d been leaving the fruit cores: a shallow hole a little away, covered up. Didn¡¯t want to attract the local flies or scavenging animals.

    With a stick, I poked around the loose dirt, but all that rain had turned it to mud. If I did find any pips, I couldn¡¯t tell. Not exactly frustrated, the feeling was more like helpless. A riddle with not enough clues. No, a riddle where I didn¡¯t know if an answer was right or wrong.

    I was stuck between tying myself up in knots over the mystery or feeling hungry. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have the mental energy to keep thinking. I was used to menial labour and not solving mysteries.

    Eating, I had no clue if the carrots were safe raw. Even if they weren¡¯t poisonous, I knew there were raw vegetables that had sort of anti-nutrients, stuff in them that made it harder to absorb certain vitamins and minerals. That was why I wanted to cook the peas too.

    Ah.

    Reminded of them, I walked over to the larder, careful with all the mud. Soaking was the first step to getting them to sprout and sprouting changed some of the nutrients, going from storage mode to grow mode¡ªand getting rid of anti-nutrients.

    Only that, once I opened it up, the basin of peas wasn¡¯t a basin of peas any more, instead full of small shoots. I stared for a good few seconds, thinking to myself it was supposed to take a few days or longer.

    But blossoms weren¡¯t supposed to bud and bloom in a couple days, were they?

    Whatever was going on, I took out the basin and awkwardly drained it, using my hand as a sieve. The shoots were tiny, white with a purple vein. I would have liked to have given them more time to grow or to still heat them up over a fire first. All I could do, though, was rinse them with fresh spring water.

    I mean, I had gathered enough firewood, but there wasn¡¯t much kindling around, leaves blown around in the storm.

    Like every time before, I had just the one sprout to start with. It had a crunch to it, an empty flavour like salad leaves, slightly bitter after-taste. If that was the peas¡¯ natural taste, frying really had helped. After a while of nothing happening, I had some more shoots.

    But not all of them, even though it wasn¡¯t a big portion. I saved a couple and, remembering I¡¯d found the pea bush by the base of a tree, I took the shoots to the big tree I kept the firewood under. The ground there dry, digging took some effort, but I didn¡¯t know how deep to bury them, thinking shallow would be fine since they would have just fallen down normally. I watered the ground too. Not a lot, but enough to settle the dirt. Again, if they naturally grew under trees, they probably didn¡¯t need much watering.

    With that distraction over, I ambled back to camp. It was almost sunset by now and yet I still had so much energy. Well, I¡¯d spent most the day sleeping, only a few hours picking up sticks.

    So I tried to think of something else to do until it was dark.

    Wanting to not go far, I settled on checking the local plants again. This time, though, rather than looking for vegetables, I wanted to find herbs. Add some flavour to the food or maybe stew some tea¡ªit would depend on what I found.

    Only one way to do it, I shuffled around and sniffed leaves. It wasn¡¯t that fun. After all, most of them just smelled like leaves.

    Something to pass the time.

    For all my shuffling, I found a couple ¡°herbs¡± by nightfall. One of them had a smell like lavender, just more earthy than flowery, and the other a very sort of bitter smell that made me curious; trying a leaf, it had a bite to it like mustard. Maybe too hopeful, I thought it might be healthy because of spicy stuff like mustard and ginger being good for you, so picked a bunch.

    And knowing what the bean plant looked like, I found another one. Enough pods for a portion or two. Not a wasted evening.

    Back at the camp, I put away the ¡°mustard leaves¡± and cracked open the pods, leaving the beans to soak. Curious if the pods were maybe edible too, I rinsed them and took a bite of one.

    An immediate problem, a stringy bit came with it, stuck on my tongue as I tried to scrape it off. Once I managed to spit that out, I could focus on the pod. It was¡­ kind of bland, slightly bitter and sweet, not enough either way to taste bad or good. Probably would have tasted nicer cooked.

    That did get me thinking about, next time, leaving the peas in the pods and roasting them. Frying a small portion of peas had been tricky enough with how they stuck and burned on the slab. I wasn¡¯t sure if wrapping the pods in wet leaves would work well, though. Maybe I could have just put them directly by the fire or poked them onto a thin stick and held them over the fire. Using the slab still seemed like the best idea, hopefully easy enough to flip them over in the pods.

    If I was going to use the slab more, I thought, having cooking oil would help keep stuff from sticking. The problem was I¡¯d probably need a cloth to separate out the pulp if I just crushed nuts to make it and didn¡¯t want to ruin my only clothing to try.

    Sighing, I popped the rest of the pod in my mouth. It wasn¡¯t easy existing with nothing. Even if I did try to hunt animals, it wasn¡¯t like rendering their fat would be any easier.

    Well, not the most productive day, but I¡¯d done something.

    No fire to keep me warm, I retired to my room with the rest of the pods for a snack and brought the lavender-like leaves too. Slowly eating the pods, gradually surrounded by the soothing smell, I managed not to think too much, in a bit of a trance. Deep breaths, chewing, eyes unfocused as I stared at the woven wall close to my face.

    Once the food was finished, I snuggled into the crevice and breathed deeply. In, out, in, out, until sleep took me.

 Ch. 4 Building up

    I woke up to birdsong, which really beat yesterday¡¯s cold raindrop. For a while, I stayed curled up there, not quite drifting back to sleep, but not really thinking either.

    Numb. A different numb.

    I wasn¡¯t exhausted from a busy day, wasn¡¯t drained from dealing with the kids. No, I just had nothing I needed to do, so I did nothing, not even think. Birds chirped and twittered, wind rustled the leaves, whistling through the gaps. Deep and slow breaths.

    Only, I wasn¡¯t good at doing nothing, soon growing anxious. Coming out of my trance, I sighed and rocked forward.

    After finishing my morning routine, including some fruit for breakfast, I stood in the middle of my camp. Looking around, I wasn¡¯t too sure what to do. As far as food went, I was in a decent place, could go up and harvest more wheat or pick more beans, maybe pull up more vegetables, find something other than those carrots.

    Rather than that, my gaze settled on the woven door I¡¯d made. It wasn¡¯t comfortable in there; that hadn¡¯t bothered me, but it wasn¡¯t like I needed to sleep somewhere uncomfortable.

    An idea coming together, I wandered into the forest. Until now, I had looked for low, dead branches and sticks and twigs by tree bases, the sorts of things that burned well. Today was different. Not every tree was alive and standing tall, some long fallen, rotting away. A few, though, were in the middle, recently dead.

    It didn¡¯t take too long to find the perfect tree. While I couldn¡¯t say when, it hadn¡¯t been dead for long, branches still supple and leaves still a deep teal. With the sharp rock I¡¯d brought along for this, I started hacking branches off near the trunk. This did take a while, the branches not thin and wood resisting my rock, but, little by little, I cut through them, swinging down over and over, hands growing numb.

    After the fifth, I sat down for a break. Didn¡¯t take long for me to realise I was trembling. Sure, I was used to helping with washing, carrying the youngest girls around, that kind of everyday stuff, but not this kind of hammering. My hands shook, ached, no cuts, but swollen, arms heavy.

    I had planned on stripping the branches too. Well, not everything could always go to plan.

    Once I caught my breath, I started dragging the branches back, two at a time. They got stuck a lot, catching on roots and plants, but it wasn¡¯t hard on my body like the hammering. Just a bit hard to keep my grip. By the third trip for the last branch, my hands felt much better. Still, back at camp, I let them soak in the stream for a while, down from the spring where the water felt cool.

    For a break, I spent some time preparing sticks for making a fire later. Carved a small hole in a flat stick, whittled a thin stick to take off the bark, made sure it rolled nicely between my hands.

    That done, I ate some fruit for lunch. A different one this time, it had a tear drop shape and a turquoise skin, the inside crunchier than the ¡°apple¡±, sort of like cucumber, but with a taste like watered-down cola. Maybe it even had caffeine in it. I thought of it as a pear, the shape and texture close enough.

    Then, for a while after, I just watched the spring. It had washed away the soil around it, making a small pool that drained through loose stones into the stream. A lot of water. I hadn¡¯t really thought about it, but the stream wasn¡¯t tiny.

    Eventually, I couldn¡¯t distract myself any more, getting back to work. My hands feeling better, I worked at stripping down the branches. Easier to cut these pieces off, I didn¡¯t get myself into the same state, not to mention cool water at hand if I felt myself swelling up.

    Once I was done with the five branches, they were about as tall as me and as thick as my arm. A sturdy base.

    My plan was pretty simple. I picked two with some notches at one end where they¡¯d branched out and took them over to the outcrop. After some measuring¡ªand some carefully placed stones to stand on¡ªI started hammering them into the ground, standing straight up. I dug a little too and surrounded the base with stones to help keep them upright, piling up dirt around each one and packing it down afterwards.

    All of that left my hands aching again. I sighed, sitting by the stream with my hands soaking. It wasn¡¯t like I expected this all to be easy, but I hated all these breaks, not that tired. Felt like a waste of daylight.

    At the least, the rest of my plans weren¡¯t intense. When the aching stopped, I searched for more vines and started assembling the frame for my room. The first step was putting one branch between the two I¡¯d hammered down before, settling on the notches, held in place with vines. Next, the other two branches went across the top, one end on the outcrop and the other on the branches. I carved a notch into both to help keep them from slipping, vines doing the rest.

    Taking a step back, I couldn¡¯t help but smile at how it had turned out. Of course, it was just a frame, a lot more work still to do. However, it was a start. The start of something more than just surviving.

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    While the frame needed to be sturdy, smaller branches and sticks would make do for the roof. So that was what I looked for. Some of the leftovers from preparing the frame were big enough to reach across, some of the firewood too. Little by little, covering more of the roof, using more vines to keep them in place and space them out a bit. Like the door, I would use leaves to cover it up at the end.

    It was a shame there wasn¡¯t much of the slate-like rock. If I had a bunch of a thin slabs, I could have made a real roof. Well, if I had a bunch of things, then I could do a bunch of things, I thought to myself, chuckling.

    If I had a metal pot, if I had a hand-axe, if I had a piece of cloth¡­.

    Letting out a sigh, I sat down. The day¡¯s efforts finally catching up to me, my stomach grumbled, hungry. At least I hadn¡¯t reached the point it ached.

    Although the sun wasn¡¯t setting yet, I eventually got up and started on starting a fire. It took longer, one day not enough to dry out the leaves after yesterday¡¯s rain, but I cobbled together enough to get a fire going. Without the charcoal, it took longer to build up too, but, again, I managed.

    Planning on a smaller fire for longer, I didn¡¯t rush with the carrots, passing the time by snacking on the sprouts and fruit. A little here, a little there, watching the flames dance, listening to it crackle while the stream trickled, wind whistling as it picked up, insects chirping.

    A nice end to the day.

    The next morning, I woke up only to wonder if it was early, so dark. It took a while to remember I was working on the new room. Giggling to myself, I shuffled out the crevice. The sun low above the trees, the roof didn¡¯t really keep out much sunshine, but it did cast a shadow on the top half of the crevice. Just enough to not shine on my sleeping face.

    Honestly, that was kind of a shame, but would only be while I holed up in the crevice. Once the room was done, it would be be bright at dawn again. As if I needed more motivation to work.

    So off I went.

    I gathered the longest sticks I could find¡ªand some more peas. Unlike the first day, I wasn¡¯t rushed, so I took my time to find the best sticks for the job. Long and thin, supple. The room wouldn¡¯t really be any use until it was finished, so I didn¡¯t worry with weaving the sticks together yet. That¡¯d be a good task for the evening.

    By lunchtime, I had a whole mound of both sticks. After eating, I took some time to empty some of the pea pods I¡¯d found, wanting to make more sprouts in case frying the whole pod didn¡¯t work out well. Even if it did work, lunch felt kind of empty with just fruit.

    When I put the soaking peas in the larder, I checked on the wheat. It certainly had dried out a bit, even with the rain, going more golden-brown. I wasn¡¯t sure if the fast budding meant fast drying too. The stalk, at least, felt fairly brittle.

    I mean, what was the worst that could happen?

    But that would have to wait for later.

    Back to gathering sticks, I didn¡¯t think about whether I had enough; any extra could dry out into firewood. Venturing a little farther, I looked out for more carrots too. When I found some, though, I hesitated to pick them. Thinking about the wheat and peas, I didn¡¯t know how to grow more carrots. It wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d ever even thought about.

    Well, I was pretty sure carrots grew from seeds¡­. Maybe¡­.

    If they didn¡¯t, then what? Did the carrot split in half underground? Did it send out a tendril and start another root from that? I hadn¡¯t noticed anything like that in the patches I¡¯d found so far, though.

    Thinking really wasn¡¯t my strong suit. I mean, school had been more about remembering.

    Feeling like I was going mad, I looked around the patch. They did grow in patches, so however they grew, it happened close by. After going around it a few times, I finally noticed something.

    ¡°Are these,¡± I mumbled, reaching out.

    Another kind of plant seemed to grow perfectly around the patch, outlining it. Except that, when I pulled it up, a carrot came out. Thinner, colour a bit off, but definitely a carrot.

    So then those weren¡¯t leaves, but flowers? I had thought it was a different plant because the top looked so different, flowers like broccoli florets and a pale purple. Looking closer, I found one that looked browner and, brushing it, a few seeds dropped down. Like sunflower seeds, but smaller and wrinkled.

    Excited, I dropped the sticks I carried and instead carefully pulled out this carrot, trying not to lose seeds.

    Back at the camp, I went to where I¡¯d first found the carrots. The rain had settled the dirt, so I awkwardly hoed it with a rock in one hand, then shook the seeds out over the patch. Knowing what to look for, I checked the edge of the empty patch for more flowering carrots and found a couple more with seeds.

    After giving the patch a good watering, I went back for the sticks I¡¯d left behind, that still an important task. Bringing those back¡ªand some more sticks I found on the way¡ªI sat down, taking in some deep breaths.

    Didn¡¯t want to get carried away. Maybe I wouldn¡¯t be here when the carrots grew. Maybe I would, though.

    Not wanting to think any more, I started on the fire. Charcoal left over from yesterday, leaves drier, it was easy to get it going and get cooking. Carrots roasted, bean pods fried, coming out a little charred, but sweeter, peas apparently steamed with how the pods swelled and whistled.

    Full of optimism, I took out the wheat. Easy enough to start with, I pulled off the kernels and sort of ground them between two rocks, not trying to make flour, but breaking up the outer husk. There wasn¡¯t much, so I then sifted through it by hand for the seedy bits.

    And I realised I had no clue how to cook it.

    In my head, I¡¯d been thinking of making porridge, but that obviously wasn¡¯t going to work. How else? If I made it into a paste, it would just burn onto the slab. What if I just put them straight on? That could work, I thought, but they were pretty small and might just end up falling off; the peas were fairly flat, so hadn¡¯t rolled around much.

    Nothing else for it, I put some rocks on top of the slab to make a little enclosure, then poured the kernels into it. Sure enough, despite bringing as much back as I could, there wasn¡¯t much actual food to it all. Maybe half a bowl.

    I kept stirring until they really browned, a nutty smell in the air, then carefully guided them off the slab, onto a rock ¡°plate¡±.

    For all the headache they¡¯d caused me, the taste was okay. I had eaten bread with seeds in it before and these roasted kernels reminded me of that, a sort of waxy texture and nutty taste, a bit burnt, but mostly just bland. Oh well, another thing to eat.

    Although that was a let down, I didn¡¯t let it keep me down for long. The fire burned, I wove sticks, working towards my more spacious room.

    So another day came to an end.

 Ch. 5 Not according to the plan

    Waking up in the crevice didn¡¯t surprise me. I didn¡¯t expect to hear children whispering, didn¡¯t anticipate someone shaking my shoulder any moment now. I just woke up, breathed deep, and listened for a while.

    It was incredibly scary to have nothing to do. Or rather, to have no one making you do what you knew you should do.

    The crevice wasn¡¯t comfortable, but I was, happy to just stay stuck in there as long as I could. A peace I¡¯d never known. Like I was hiding, hiding from my responsibilities, hiding from everyone else.

    But there was no one and there were no responsibilities, not any more. How scary that was.

    For now, at least, my brain hated being idle, so the anxiety eventually pushed me into action. I didn¡¯t know if that would happen every day; if not, I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d do.

    Once I had some breakfast fruit, both ¡°apple¡± and ¡°pear¡±, I got ready to go collect more sticks¡­ and stopped. Looking at my hands, they¡¯d changed so much in a week. Had it been a week yet? Should probably keep track. Well, at least I didn¡¯t have to worry about keeping track of my periods.

    I sighed. Turning over my hands, I couldn¡¯t really tell if they were dirty. Pretty ironic. Kids had bullied me about that until I was, like, twelve, my palms lighter than the rest of me. Not like any adult actually sat down and explained to me it was normal¡ªI had thought it was because I didn¡¯t bathe enough, my hands ¡°clean¡± because I washed them so much.

    Falling into that spiral, I took a deep breath and pushed it away. The past could stay in the past, but it was true I hadn¡¯t cleaned myself this last week, something I could work on.

    The weather not quite warm enough to sit around naked, I spent the early hours gathering more firewood. Midmorning, I started a fire. Not a big one, though, a lot of twigs and I tried out the straw left over from the wheat, glad to find that burned easily. Once it burned out, I used a small, flat rock to scoop up ash. Soap was beyond me right now, but wood ash was a bit alkaline and it was something like exfoliating, the tiny particles helping to scrub off dirt.

    With the ash piled onto another rock, I got the charcoal burning again, easy since it was still pretty hot, and started up a bigger fire. I also stabbed some sticks into the ground around the fire for later use.

    Before washing myself, I started with my clothes. Not much I could do, I took off the boots, socks, trousers, and underwear and squatted down by the spring, immersing them (not the shoes) in the warm water and rubbing. Clean off some of the sweat and dirt.

    To dry them, I hung them on the sticks by the fire. While they dried, I took the ash to the side of the stream and made it into a paste, rubbing some onto my legs. It felt weird and cold and I felt stupid for thinking it would work. Probably wasn¡¯t any better than just washing with clean water. But I did it, rubbing and rubbing, shuddering at every breeze. It looked like the paste was picking up dirt, maybe my imagination.

    Up to my waist, down to my toes, even in-between them, I scrubbed and rinsed. If I wasn¡¯t actually any cleaner, I at least felt like I was. Shuffling over to the fire, careful where I stepped without boots on, I warmed up there. It thankfully didn¡¯t take me long to dry.

    I helped my clothes dry quicker, holding them closer to the fire. Not too close, of course. Underwear first, then trousers, socks last, putting them on as they dried, boots at the end.

    Bottom half done, I moved onto my top half. Well, I spared my jumper a wash, not a big deal if that had some dirt on it and it wouldn¡¯t be getting sweaty when I wore a vest and shirt. So I washed those and my bra.

    It was funny, I hadn¡¯t thought about it at all. I mean, I wasn¡¯t big, so bras weren¡¯t that necessary for me. But it turned out I had one, something simple that tied at the front, not padded or shaped with wires, pretty much a strip of fabric with straps that went over my shoulder. Not like I had anyone to show off to, so simple was perfect. Easy to wash and comfortable to wear.

    Clothes washed and hung up to dry, I washed myself. Had to be careful not to get my trousers wet, but that just made it awkward, not difficult. When I was done, I sat in front of the fire again. This time, I could put my jumper on once I was dry, no rush for the other stuff to dry.

    So I cooked lunch.

    It was kind of funny having roast carrot this early, used to a chill in the air, the evening smell, birds and insects chirping. Like having cereal for dinner. Still, I liked it. Fruit didn¡¯t leave me full.

    I had let the fire die down while those cooked and, by the time I finished eating, the fire was finished, my clothes dry. It honestly felt quite nice with just the jumper on, wearing three layers for a week straight maybe not the best thing, but I put everything back on. The evenings really did get cold and it wasn¡¯t like I had a duvet when it came to bedtime.

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    Re-energised, mentally and physically, I got to work. Wandered around collecting sticks and another couple portions of pea pods, then, no evening fire, came back a while before sunset to carry on weaving the first wall of my new room. A little fruit and some sprouts for dinner.

    The next day, I picked up where I¡¯d left off. A lot of sticks piled up, I spent the morning weaving, stopping for a fruit and sprouts lunch.

    Wall almost done, I started thinking about the next step: stuffing it with leaves. The door for my bedroom crevice had worked so well, after all. Just that, looking over at it, it was¡­ browner than when I¡¯d made it.

    Leaves were maybe not the best long-term solution.

    Sighing, I felt my motivation evaporate. Replacing the leaves on the door once a week wouldn¡¯t be too big of a deal, but the new room would need like ten times as many leaves. If I used smaller sticks, I could probably make something that was wind-proof and mostly water-proof, but mostly water-proof wasn¡¯t exactly great for a bedroom¡­.

    Ah. Straw, thatch.

    Except I¡¯d kind of burned it.

    A real roller coaster of emotions, I was left smiling to myself. How to thatch wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d heard on a podcast or read in a book, but I didn¡¯t need to do an amazing job, just enough enough to keep me dry. The walls could leak a bit as long as the roof didn¡¯t.

    However, that meant a bunch of journeys up the mountain.

    The rest of the day became a blur, second, third, fourth trip just heavy breaths and staring at the ground in front of me, every step slow and careful. Tiring, but I wasn¡¯t in a rush. The wheat wasn¡¯t heavy either, only bulky; if I had a large enough sack, I could have done it all in a trip or two, but I didn¡¯t have a sack, did I?

    There wasn¡¯t room in my larder for all of it, so I cut off the heads and piled them in the larder and left the stems by the firewood, weighed down to keep it blowing off. Might be a problem if it rained, but most of it was decently covered by the tree.

    After all that work, it was hard to convince myself to make a fire. Every step, I wanted to give up. But I knew I¡¯d feel even worse without the carbs from the carrots. Well, I presumed the carrots were mostly starch. Maybe a lot of sugar too, but that was still calories.

    So I made a fire, roasted carrots, then pretty much fell asleep as soon as I crawled into the crevice, utterly exhausted.

    Unsurprisingly, my legs weren¡¯t happy the next day. I could push through it, but that seemed risky, climbing the mountain difficult enough when my legs listened to me. If something went wrong¡­ I probably wouldn¡¯t survive.

    Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts, I went through my morning routine and then sat down to plan. The thing was that I didn¡¯t really need more food or firewood.

    Hard to forget about my thatching plan, I thought about how that would work. Couldn¡¯t just lay out the straw. Maybe weave it? But that probably wouldn¡¯t be tight enough, leave holes for water to come through. All the thatched roofs I¡¯d seen looked like it was all going the same way too. Maybe bundle the straw, but how?

    Getting nowhere, I stood up. There wasn¡¯t much point in checking the nearby forest, but I could go downstream, check the plants near the water. Last time, I¡¯d looked around by the trees and used the stream to not get lost. The slope was gentle enough it wouldn¡¯t be a problem if my legs gave up on me too.

    So down I went.

    A slow pace, listening to the stream gurgle and flow, twisting and turning. Patches of flowers grew at the bends in the marshy ground, where it flowed straighter reeds and rushes. Now and then, something like a willow tree towered over the water; I got to see some seeds drop in the water when a wind blew, sailing down like little boats. Probably why they grew on riverbanks, seeds eventually getting stuck on the marshy edge.

    There wasn¡¯t much of that at the start, though. It took a while to see more than the odd plant, by then the stream wider and slower, not much of a slope at all. But the flora really exploded when another stream joined this one, becoming more of a small river. Plants crowded the entire riverbank, the sound of insects so loud, birds hanging around, sometimes darting amongst the stems and leaves.

    Very belatedly, I ended up looking at the reeds and rushes again (I didn¡¯t know the difference). Tall plants with round stems, the brownish heads more like pine cones, as high as my waist despite growing in the water.

    I¡¯d heard of reed baskets before.

    Curious, I scouted around for a sharp stone, then carefully approached the riverbank. Maybe because of the plants growing there, the ground was marshy, but firm, only sinking a little with each step. Close enough, I pulled a reed over and cut it as low as I could reach.

    It was surprisingly tough. I mean, it wasn¡¯t the sharpest stone I¡¯d ever found, but the stem bent over so easily, I expected to just cut right through. Any thought I had of using them died there. Still, I scraped off the pine cone bit, large seeds plopping into the marshy ground, and took the stem with me.

    Feeling like a good time to turn around, I went back. A slow walk, gentle slope still a slope, legs still heavy. At the least, the reed stem was fun to idly swish about. Childish, maybe, but I hadn¡¯t had time to be a child before.

    At the camp, I left the reed with the firewood to dry out.

    Midday, I had some fruit and sprouts for lunch, then decided on something else for the afternoon: moving rocks. I¡¯d just scraped away the grass to make a spot for fires, so I did it up nicely, finding a flat piece for the bottom and adding some around the edge, as well as a few blockish rocks to make a nicer place to sit than the floor. The larder had a makeover too, a better roof in case it rained. That reminded me what happened to my fire-making sticks last time, so I made a small stone ¡°coffin¡± that would keep them mostly dry. Wanting to start collecting the ash, I dug a hole by my firewood, a rock to go over the top and keep it from blowing away.

    No rush. Taking some time to find the right rocks and stones, that was how I spent most of the afternoon, time to start the fire when I finished.

    Another day, so little done, so much more to do. That was okay, though. It was when I ran out of thing to do that the real trouble would start.

 Ch. 6 Breaking down

    I woke up, staring into the gloom. It didn¡¯t get easier to force myself up and out of the crevice. At least I was young, no lingering aches from sleeping funny.

    As I went through the motions, I still thought about my old life, wondering if they were doing okay. That felt so distant now. That life, that world. The purplish tinge to most of the plants didn¡¯t surprise me. Biting into the ¡°apples¡± and ¡°pears¡± didn¡¯t either.

    This was my life now, and everyone at the orphanage had their life now.

    After breakfast, I just sort of wandered, trying not to think. I¡¯d distracted myself yesterday, but everything had kind of come to a stop. Didn¡¯t know what to do about my new room.

    If I couldn¡¯t make a shelter, could I even begin to think about making anything else? Was this just my life? Only eating fruits and sprouts and roasted carrots, drinking spring water and hoping it was safe, washing myself with ash and mildly warm water, wearing the same clothes, sleeping in a crevice I couldn¡¯t even lie down in.

    Maybe I needed to just use my jumper like a bag and bring as many fruits with me as I could and follow the stream to a village. Time to give up.

    Of course I couldn¡¯t live by myself, stupid to think so. The world didn¡¯t care if I¡¯d read about sprouting beans or listened to a podcast about making a fire with nothing but sticks. Food would run out eventually, then what? What good would the crappy little room be then?

    For the first time since I¡¯d come here, for the first time since I could remember, I cried. Who did I cry for? No one was going to come. No matter how much I cried, how loud I wailed, how much I needed someone¡­ no one came.

    There was just me.

    I wiped my tears, feeling exhausted. Really didn¡¯t have the energy for emotions right now. Didn¡¯t even remember sitting down, but I was, sat under a tree with my firewood for company.

    That would eventually run out too.

    I laughed. Had to. If I didn¡¯t, I¡¯d go crazy. So I laughed, weak and empty, but I laughed, scaring away the tears. Still sniffled, throat closed up, but I didn¡¯t cry. It was a start.

    Looking around, not thinking anything, I ended up staring at the reed from yesterday. Lighter today, mossy green fading. Probably needed a couple more days to dry out. But I didn¡¯t have to wait to pick it up and swing it around like a sword. Laughing, I kept laughing, never dared stop. A child. Let me be a child, I thought. No responsibilities, no worrying about the future, just picking up a stick and waving it like a sword.

    I jabbed and swung and held a pose like a fencer as I hopped back and forth. With no target around, I took to hitting the tree, more like slaps how the flexible stem bended as I struck.

    My manic episode could only last so long, though. Coming down from the rush of silliness, I just felt empty, too empty to cry. That was enough. Crying didn¡¯t help. If I wasn¡¯t crying, I could do something. Anything.

    But what?

    The knot I¡¯d been ignoring tightened around my heart, so I tried walking to force my heart to beat, loosening it. Only that I barely made it a step before stopping, a small plant coming out the soil.

    Not just any plant.

    I squatted down, heart thumping. The shape of those little leaves was familiar. How long ago had I planted those sprouts? A week, maybe? Look at it, already coming up to my shins, plenty of those pale leaves picking up the trickle of sunshine that made it under here. The stem even had a woody tinge to it. Another week or two, maybe it¡¯d flower, start growing pods.

    Laughing, it wasn¡¯t empty this time. I laughed from the bottom of my lungs, smiling so wide it hurt, giddy.

    Maybe I could stay here a bit longer.

    Practically shaking from that burst of energy, I fretted over the plant, carrying over the rock basin to water it, checking for bugs, even singing to it. I heard somewhere that music helped plants, something to do with the vibrations. Maybe my brain was just making stuff up to keep me sane. I didn¡¯t know, not like I could look it up, not like I cared.

    ¡°Twinkle twinkle, little star,¡± I sang, voice rough after so long not speaking, but the plant didn¡¯t have ears. All I had to do was vibrate the air, so that was what I did. ¡°How I wonder what you are,¡± I sang, as loud as I comfortably could.

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    Who knew how long¡ªnot me. The time since I ate breakfast was a blur, trapped in my head, now entirely focused on the little plant. I sang, time carried on.

    Eventually, my voice grew too hoarse and stomach grumbled, pulling me back. I rubbed my face, letting out a long sigh. Another moment to collect myself, then I sort of stumbled to my feet, legs numb, leaning against the tree for support.

    Staggering every few steps, I walked to the spring for a drink. Handful after handful, I drank, trying to soothe my throat, failing. If only I¡¯d found a beehive somewhere. Well, that probably wouldn¡¯t have ended well, so probably better I hadn¡¯t.

    Fruit and sprouts for lunch. The familiar routine helped me calm down, sitting there, chewing. Bite after bite after bite until the ache faded.

    Looking up, a little after midday. Maybe an hour or two. Really, getting emotional used up too much energy, making me so hungry over a late lunch. I gave a little smile at the little joke, but it didn¡¯t last.

    Rubbing my face for what felt like the hundredth time today, I let out my hundredth sigh of the day, letting out all the tension I¡¯d collected through the morning.

    Focus on food.

    Repeating that like a mantra, I pushed myself up and started walking along the stream. Onions were healthy. Chives. I looked out for those kinds of tube leaves sticking up, thinking they¡¯d be easy to spot.

    I tried to keep to the shade, so, whenever there was a willowy tree, I stopped underneath it to watch the stream, soothing. The sound of the running water, how it glistened in the sun, carrying seeds and leaves along like I was looking at a road from high up in the sky.

    That was how I ended up finding something like watercress. A wild, tangled mess of a plant with small, round leaves, the overgrown plant taking over the muddy inside of a particularly large bend. I was on the wrong side of the stream to pick it, but I felt I had to, remembering that watercress was very nutritious.

    Never mind that that didn¡¯t mean this stuff was even edible. Something for me to worry about after I collected some.

    So I scavenged around for a good stick, eventually finding one that was long and with a branch coming off that gave it a hook. Once I had a good, stable position, I reached over with it and pulled at the mess of a plant, tugging and tugging until a bundle came loose. At the least, holding it didn¡¯t cause a rash.

    Good enough for me, I hung it over my shoulder and carried on my search for onions. It took some searching, but I was rewarded. Around where the stream joined another, I found a clearing, noticing the grass wasn¡¯t all grass, taller patches among it.

    Pulling some up, they were more like spring onions, mostly leaves with a small bulb at the bottom. Fine by me.

    That wasn¡¯t all, though. Learning from the carrots, I checked around to see if these ¡°onions¡± were like garlic where the bulb split up to reproduce, but the others I pulled up were all just a single bulb. So I checked around and luckily found a couple of the onions flowering. No seeds yet, though. Well, I could just plant them by the camp and wait, right?

    If that didn¡¯t work, I knew where to look now. Come back another time.

    A slow walk back up to camp, planted the flowering onions, prepared a fire, roasted carrots. Falling into the routine.

    The watercress was easy to cook, all on the twisty stem still. Pressed it against the cooking slab until it withered. A bit bitter, but with a kick. Not exactly like mustard, more peppery, maybe because it was a little burnt.

    As for the onion, I felt it was probably safe to eat raw. The taste might be terrible, but safe¡­ if it was like an onion. To be on the safe side, I held it by the leaves and let the bulb roast over the fire for a bit. The bulb was small, so not for long, just enough to brown the outside.

    My senses not entirely shattered, I took a little bite. It certainly tasted onion-y, strong, not in a bitter way, but still made my face scrunch up. A longer roast for the next one, I thought. No nausea or swelling or anything, I roasted the rest of the onion some more before finishing it¡ªthat did help mellow the taste.

    Left with the leaves, I tried those too.

    They tasted like leaves.

    It wasn¡¯t all that late by now, but I felt so tired. Still, it was nice having a proper fire pit, sitting on something more like a chair. Some progress. When the fire burned low, colder, I sat on the floor, back to the rock-chair, keeping off some of the wind. That was nice too.

    If only I could live in this moment forever. Stomach full, a chilly breeze and a warm fire, flames flickering, embers glowing, crackling, stream trickling, the smell of burning wood mixing with the earthy dusk scent, worn out, numb. No thoughts, just experiencing, drifting between senses, blending them.

    And when I looked up, I finally saw the moon. No, two moons. One was an amber crescent, I guessed had been a ¡°new moon¡± until now, maybe a bit smaller than the old moon, but I knew the size changed a lot depending on where it was in its orbit. Next to it in the sky was an even smaller moon, more like a big star, but it was definitely a moon, a paler and weaker colour and almost full. The two were fairly close together in the sky, no doubt actually very far apart.

    Clouds drifted, stars twinkled, and I stared. There was so much about this world I still didn¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯d never know, not if I stayed here all alone.

    That was fine. I didn¡¯t need to know to find it beautiful.

    Flames withered, embers dulled, curling up tighter as the cold set in. When I couldn¡¯t take it any more, I covered the remains of the fire with rocks, had a drink, and scurried off for a pee before rushing back to the rocky crevice I called home.

    Closing my makeshift door, some of the leaves fell out, shrivelled, probably brown¡ªcouldn¡¯t tell in the darkness. As much as I wanted time to pause, it kept going. The world kept going, changing, growing. There was no staying the same, no standing still.

    All it took was me dying and having a bit of a breakdown to learn that.

    Day catching up to me, my thoughts faded and nothing took their place.

 Ch. 7 One step after another

    I woke up to birdsong and I moved. Rocked forwards, fumbled open the door, pushed myself up, stretching, rolling my shoulders. Moving, always moving.

    When I ate my breakfast, I thought about washing again. Should have after collecting all that wheat and working up such a sweat. So I did, but only my trousers, vest, and underwear, not using a fire to dry them this time. Would have taken too long and I had some ash already for washing myself.

    Along the way, I thought about how I hadn¡¯t been brushing my teeth. Slipped my mind. If I was just eating vegetables, maybe it wouldn¡¯t be a problem. I wasn¡¯t, though, fruit nice and sweet.

    No toothbrush, no toothpaste, but, thinking about this while scrubbing myself, I had fingers and ash.

    I tried to talk myself out it the entire time I bathed. Tried, and failed. There weren¡¯t exactly any dentists around. So, after I was finished, clothes dry, I squatted by the spring again, ash paste on my finger, and I rubbed my teeth.

    It tasted exactly as pleasant as it sounded.

    Trying not to gag, I rubbed the front and back of my teeth and along my molars, then rushed to rinse out the taste. Even after a spitting out a few mouthfuls of water, the weird bitterness stuck to my tongue.

    Well, running my tongue along my teeth, at least they didn¡¯t feel, like, covered in plaque.

    That ordeal over, I didn¡¯t stop. Kept moving. I wanted, needed, a routine, so I made one. Checked on the growing pea plant, on the flowering onions I¡¯d replanted yesterday, on the drying straw, on the curing wheat kernels. After that, gathered firewood, a few more carrots, some pea pods, more of the mustardy leaves.

    Lunchtime, I had some fruit and sprouts, then kept going.

    Still didn¡¯t know what I would do about my new room, so I fixed up my door with fresh leaves. Being woken up by raindrops really wasn¡¯t nice. Once the dried up leaves were replaced, I went back to weaving sticks, a windbreak still helpful.

    A simple, repetitive task. No need to think. Do, just do, no thinking.

    At the end of the day, when I picked up some firewood from under the big tree, I decided to mark the tree. Hard to remember the days, I guessed I¡¯d been here for about two weeks. While I was carving that, I thought the usual four I¡¯s then a slash across them didn¡¯t make much sense, so ended up with six I¡¯s then a slash. Day fourteen. If I was wrong, never mind, at least I could keep track from now on. See how long things take to grow.

    Made a fire, roasted carrots with the mustard leaves, gazed at the moons, then bed.

    Ready to do the same over and over again, yet different each time.

    The next day, I didn¡¯t wash, but still brushed my teeth. The onion flowers had made seeds, so I found a clearing and sowed them there. Wheat cured, I roasted some for dinner, then bed.

    No need to think about other things, just what was right in front of me.

    The next day, the pea plant had buds that looked like they¡¯d become flowers; I guessed it had been about ten days since I¡¯d planted the sprouts. Anyway, more important to know how long from bud to bean.

    That reminded me to check on the fruit trees. I¡¯d cleared the ones near the camp, but, now, fresh fruits grew there, ready to be picked. Seemed like I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about running out of food.

    Thinking of food, I wondered about the wheat. Right now, it was far to go if I wanted some, but maybe I could grow it nearby? Was there something special about the plateau? Well, it was pretty flat and high enough there weren¡¯t any trees. For flat, I had to go far downstream, but maybe no trees was good enough?

    Only problem was that I had collected wheat with small kernels. If I was going to grow them, I wanted the biggest ones. Wincing, I slowly turned to stare up the mountain.

    Wasn¡¯t going to magically appear up there, now, was I?

    I had lunch first, though. A bit early, but it wasn¡¯t a short trip and better to have eaten before rather than after, so I ate my fruit and sprouts and had a big drink and went to the toilet.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Ready, I set off.

    Making the trip quite a few times already made it feel easier, maybe all the walking made my legs stronger; it didn¡¯t feel too bad today. Step by step, from tree to tree.

    Something I hadn¡¯t done before, I paused now and then to admire the view, gazing out across the forest as it kept shrinking the higher I went, colours blending together. No sign of any buildings, no smoke rising into the sky, just a patchwork blanket of deep teals and mossy greens and muddy purples.

    Pretty.

    Coming to the ridge, I climbed over and sat down on it. Breaths slowing. The field of wheat didn¡¯t look any different than when I¡¯d last come. Three days ago, four? If only I had a diary to keep track of the days.

    Breath settled, I swung my arms forward, momentum carrying me to my feet. While I technically only needed one head of kernels to try growing my own, it was kind of far to come for just one wheat stalk. So I started gathering some with small kernels, on the lookout for one that was particularly big, wandering deeper into the field where I hadn¡¯t cut any down yet.

    On that slow, meandering search, I pushing aside some wheat and looked down to make sure I wasn¡¯t going to stand on a random stone, only to see something strange. It sort of didn¡¯t make sense to me at first, like I had a tear in my eye, the ground a bit distorted. Not quite right.

    Squatting down, the closer look made me think of a glass bead¡ªa huge one, the size of both my fists together¡ªand it was kind of squished, not like a pancake, but far from perfectly round.

    No clue what glass would be doing here of all places, I wondered if it was maybe from an animal. A drop of drool from a dragon. Coming up with other ideas, I took a stalk and reached out to poke it and it wobbled.

    What?

    I expected it to be hard or to be like water, stalk going into it, but wobbling? Was it like glue, the outside drying exposed to the air while the inside stayed liquid?

    Then it sort of jumped back¡ªand I fell over, jerking back out of fright and losing my balance. Landing on my bum, the shock went right up my spine with a wince. Once I opened my eyes, I lost sight of whatever that thing was, but a quick look around was enough to find it, not going far.

    I stayed where I was, staring at it. It still just looked like a glass bead, completely see-through¡ªexcept for two small black dots. I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d missed them before or what, but they now very much were like eyes staring back at me.

    Maybe I was going crazy, No, if I was hallucinating all this, then it had definitely begun with the goddess. Everything had felt so real¡­.

    The thing jumped again and this time I watched, not flinching back. It flattened down one moment, then stretched up, like a spring how the bottom came up a moment later, momentum carrying through, sending it backwards in a tumble. And it was a tumble, the ¡°eyes¡± landing face down before moving up to look at me.

    I giggled, smiling. Such a clumsy thing. Curious, I kept watching, staying still. It eventually looked away from me and, rather than jumping, sort of stuck itself onto a few stems and shimmied up them, little body swinging back and forth. So light, the stems didn¡¯t bend that much even when it reached the top. Once there, it sort of wrapped around the head with all the kernels and just stayed there.

    Completely enthralled, I kept watching. It took a while, minutes, even, the process so subtle, but the kernels were gone when it moved on to the next group of wheat. Some of the stem had apparently been dissolved too; at least, that was how it looked.

    Incredible. This really was a world of magic and adventure.

    For maybe an hour, I followed the thing on its binge, eating head after head of wheat, so slow it hardly made a dent in the field. Like watching a snail go on a grand journey across the garden.

    But I couldn¡¯t do that forever. Anxiety flaring up, I waved goodbye to it and carried on with my task.

    Not hard to gather wheat, I filled up my arms, then started the journey back. I had lost my sense of direction following that creature, but I made my way to the ridge and went along until I found the marks I¡¯d made on my first trip¡ªhow clever old me was.

    Although the trip up had felt easier, the trip down was still difficult with my arms full. Careful steps.

    Back at camp, I didn¡¯t waste time. Cut off the heads to cure in the larder and piled the stems by the firewood to dry into straw. Of course, I kept the head with the larger kernels separate, the whole point for the trip.

    No reason to dry them out if I was going to plant them, I looked for a good place to plant them. Going back to my thoughts on where, well, the camp was clear of trees. Part of why I¡¯d chosen it¡ªdidn¡¯t want to make fires close to trees.

    So I scouted around for a good patch that¡¯d get lots of sunshine. As I did, I found an unusual plant growing. There wasn¡¯t even grass around it. Just a tiny bit of green, poking out the ground.

    Then I realised I¡¯d buried some apple cores here.

    Smiling to myself, I left it alone and looked for somewhere else to plant the wheat. My search didn¡¯t take long, deciding on higher up and away from the spring, thinking the plateau was pretty dry. Dug a row, scattered the kernels, covered them up, poured on some water.

    Still no diary to write things down in, I scratched the ¡°date¡± into the big tree where I marked the days. Made a note for the other plants while I was at it: onions, peas.

    Over the evening, fire burning and food cooking, I kept thinking of that blob creature thing, smiling. It was just so goofy, wobbling and swaying like a sack of gel or jelly. I wondered if there were more of them around that I hadn¡¯t noticed. If that was a normal size for them, it could easily hide in grass.

    My thoughts drifted to what other kind of magical creatures might exist in this world. Dragons, faeries, ogres¡­.

    The fire crackled, stars twinkled, bigger moon a larger sliver, clouds racing across the sky as a wind scattered sparks from the fire pit, flickers of light that faded on the dirt. Alone, but not lonely. This peace was something I¡¯d never known before and it was something I loved so very much.

    Eighteen years, but I¡¯d finally found my peace.

 Ch. 8 Momentum

    I woke up and got up. Did everything I needed to do to start the day, including a mouth full of ash paste, wake-up routine going into morning routine. Check this, check that, collect this, collect that. Don¡¯t stop, keep going.

    Not a long routine, I finished before midday, adding the dry sticks and twigs to my firewood. Looking over it all, I noticed the reed I¡¯d cut some days ago and idly picked it up. The plan had been to try weaving a basket or something, but it had been so difficult to cut, I gave up on the spot. Now, it looked too dry to weave; I tried bending it and, sure enough, it cracked and snapped.

    Ready to throw it with the firewood to eventually burn, I tried to pull the two ends apart, but they didn¡¯t want to? I bent it the other way, another crack, definitely snapped in two¡­ except I still couldn¡¯t pull them apart.

    Wondering what was going on, I held up the reed to check where I¡¯d snapped it: there was something stringy still there. I froze for a moment, then tried twisting, the outside splintering some more, inside still the stringy bit.

    Heart thumping, I tried not to get excited and failed miserably.

    Over by the fire pit, holding the reed on my rock chair, I hammered it with a stone. Did my best to break off as much of the outside as I could. Harder than threshing the wheat, but I hammering away until my hand felt numb, then scraped as much of the stem off as I could.

    The more I did, the more it looked like a bundle of thread. Not just a sinewy branch, but thread that I could twist any way I wanted, swishing around as I waved it, hanging loose. Kind of. There was still a lot of the stem attached, so the thread was kind of lumpy.

    I could do it.

    Searching around for the sharpest stone I could find, I tried to remember as much as I could from a podcast about jute. There was no doubt a lot I¡¯d forgotten, but the main thing was using water to rot away the plant bits, leaving behind the threads. Or should I call them fibres? Doesn¡¯t matter.

    The important thing was that I didn¡¯t just have water, I had warm water¡ªthat¡¯d definitely be better for breaking down plants. I didn¡¯t want to drink water where plants were decaying, though, so I¡¯d need to do it in the stream part, which was probably also better because the running water could, like, pull off bits as they died. Everything coming together.

    It took a while to find a sharp-enough stone; how hard it had been to cut, I couldn¡¯t settle. Coming up to midday, I decided to have lunch first and set off afterwards.

    My focus on the routine the last few days meant I had bigger pea sprouts to eat, letting them soak for a day, then sit in the dark. I wasn¡¯t sure if they sprouted better in the light or dark, but didn¡¯t want birds stealing them or anything like that. Better to keep them safe in the larder.

    Eat, drink, toilet break, then I set off, rock in hand, following the stream as I walked under the trees at the forest¡¯s edge, mind full of plans. Whether they¡¯d work out, I didn¡¯t know, but it gave me something to do.

    Not much grew by the top of the stream, mostly just overgrown grass. Eventually, things like reeds and water lilies and watercress popped up here and there, becoming more common the farther down I went. That made some sense, not like their seeds would travel upstream.

    I kept going until I found a big patch of reeds. It was on an outside bend, some of them growing on the bank, so very easy to get to. Nothing else for it, I got to work. The sun shone down and I hacked away at reed after reed. Having a sharper stone helped, sawing through what I guessed were the threads that made them so hard to cut. No wonder I¡¯d struggled.

    One, two, ten, twenty. The stems were thicker than the wheat, not much, like comparing my thumb to my index finger. Felt better to carry, more weight to them. The wheat kind of felt like a waste considering an armful wasn¡¯t close to heavy. Oh and the slope was gentle here, so it was fine if I couldn¡¯t use my hands at all.

    Part of the cutting, I also scattered half the sort of pine cone seeds, let it all eventually regrow. Not all of the seeds, though. Water couldn¡¯t carry seeds upstream, but I could, so I wanted to try growing some near the top. If I could make fabric out of the reeds, I wanted as much as possible.

    Anyway, the first step was bringing it back, so I got to walking. Step by step, stream gurgling, birds twittering in the forest, cool wind brushing past, changing direction every time it blew. Such a different world to living in the city.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    At the camp, I dumped the reeds by the fire pit, then started working on the next part of the plan. The spring came out in a shallow pool, marshy at the edge, then filtered through some rocks into the stream, flowing down fairly fast, the ¡°valley¡± it had carved out narrow.

    I didn¡¯t have a spade, just rocks and sticks and I couldn¡¯t even stick them together. No point complaining. I wanted the water to still be warm for decomposing the reeds, so I started right where the stream began. Took a fairly flat rock and used it to dig. Slow, repetitive work, one swing after another, taking plenty of breaks to drink and get out the sun and cool my hands. It wasn¡¯t as bad as some of the other stuff I¡¯d done, though, the ground by the stream kinda soft, not like when I hacked branches off of trees.

    Rather than anything fancy, I just dug along the stream¡¯s edge, the last part scooping up the marshy mud either side of the water. I tried to dig the top end deeper, making the new valley flatter and hoping that would be good enough to get the water to fill it.

    Well, it kind of worked. The fast, narrow stream was now a bit wider and slower. To keep the reeds from being carried downstream, I added some rocks at the bottom bit, which helped fill up more of the valley.

    The last step, I carefully added the reeds, making sure they wouldn¡¯t just clog up the ¡°drain¡± or get pushed around and end up floating down. That took some adjustments and more rocks. Eventually, I got to the reeds that still had seeds. For now, I made a pile of those, then added the reeds to the water.

    By the end of it, I stood there, looking over what I¡¯d accomplished, and smiled. I did something, I thought. I really did something.

    Evening coming along, I started on my evening routine. While the carrots roasted, I went for a short wander down the stream, sowing the reed seeds where I thought they¡¯d like to grow. From what I¡¯d seen, they liked the outside of bends. Maybe that was just where the seeds ended up stuck flowing down the river.

    The next day, at the end of my morning routine, I checked on the reeds. Used a stick to poke them and move them around and tried scraping one, happy to find some of the stem fall off when I did. It was tempting to spend all day scraping away at them to speed it up.

    However, looking up, some darker clouds were in the sky.

    My thoughts locked up for a while, unsure what to do. It wasn¡¯t like the rain would be a problem for me. I had food, everything that shouldn¡¯t get wet as safe as could be. No, what I hated was what it would to do to my routine, what would happen to me after being locked in my bedroom for however many hours.

    There was nothing I could do about it, though.

    For now, the best thing was to roast carrots, so I worked on that. Made a fire and put the carrots to cook. While I waited, I looked over the progress on my room. Even though I hadn¡¯t focused on it as much, I had weaved together the side walls, had done the roof right at the start, but the gaps between the sticks going across were far from waterproof.

    Going back to the fire, I thought things over as I ate the carrots and ¡°fried¡± some wheat.

    I still didn¡¯t really know how to do thatching. Maybe once I had thread, I could tie them into bundles or something. But I didn¡¯t have thread yet. I could maybe find enough fairly flat rocks, like roof tiles, but I had nothing to keep them in place. No way to make planks of wood.

    It really sucked. What would suck more, though, was being stuck in that crevice if the rain kept going.

    A pretty bad plan, but it would have to do. I went through my spare weaving sticks to find ones long and thing enough to fit in the gaps on the roof. No time to tie them down, but the roof wasn¡¯t too steep and they fit between the sticks that were tied down.

    With the big holes covered up, I plucked bunches of leaves to stuff in the rest of the gaps. So many bunches and just for the roof. The side walls weren¡¯t perfect, but I hoped it wouldn¡¯t be rainy and windy. As long as the rain fell straight down, a roof was all I needed, that what I focused on.

    The roof about twice the size of the door I had made, meaning four times the area, it took a lot of leaves to thoroughly cover it. I still doubted it¡¯d work well, the door not even perfect and it hadn¡¯t needed to keep much rain out¡ªbeing a door and not a roof.

    At least I was doing something. At least I was trying, trying to move forwards, however small that step.

    I worked into the evening, dark as the clouds smothered the stars, the moons, no crackling fire to bathe the camp in amber light. It started spitting, but I kept working. Every bunch I added was one less raindrop leaking through. Who knew if that was true, but that was what I told myself. One less raindrop.

    When it grew into a drizzle, I retired into the room, bringing fruits and sprouts with me. And it was fine. Not perfect, but fine. Bigger than the crevice, still missing a door, a drop slipping through every few seconds. That was fine. As long as I was dry, I could stay warm without the door, and most drips didn¡¯t land on me, curled up with my back to the rocky outcrop. I kept the food in the crevice, still the driest place.

    The drizzle carried on, at times lightening up, other times growing heavier. Distant rumbles of thunder rolled through the ground, no sign of the flashes. Maybe far off on the other side of the mountain.

    And I sat there, watching the rain fall, listening to it. That was my world.

    Time meant nothing to me. I had no clue when the rain had begun, no clue what the time was now. I just experienced the rain, curled up in my room, sometimes jumping when a cold drop of rain landed on me, most of the time staring out at nothing. Not cold, not warm, not hungry, not full, not happy, not sad.

    I was.

    That was all.

 Ch. 9 Coming together

    I didn¡¯t sleep well. Rain drops jerked me awake now and then, the wind sometimes blew in. But I slept. The heavy rain luckily didn¡¯t last long, most of the night just a drizzle, lasting into the morning. A gloomy, grey morning, sun stuck behind the clouds, all I could say was that it was after sunrise.

    Well, I had my breakfast and survived a quick trip out to go to the toilet and have a drink. Then I was back to watching the rain from my room. Still small, leaky, ground barely more comfortable than sitting in the crevice, but it was something I¡¯d made. Something I could make better. The start, not the end.

    Unlike the first time it rained, I didn¡¯t really nap, not stuck with a door right in front of my face. Passed the time watching the rain fall, just loud enough to cover up the idle thoughts that bubbled up. In here, the rain sounded louder hitting the leaves, then made a little waterfall off the end.

    So nice.

    Around midday, the clouds broke up, drizzle lightening until it stopped altogether. I shuffled out and, after a good stretch, went back to my routine. No more rain to distract me from thinking the thoughts I shouldn¡¯t.

    Firewood and straw pretty much stayed dry, the pods on the pea bush I¡¯d planted were growing nicely, maybe halfway done, stocked up on some more food. The fire pit was unfortunately flooded, the charcoal-y remains I¡¯d covered up soaked, but the little stone coffin I¡¯d made for my fire-starting sticks had kept the rain off them.

    As for the reeds, it looked like the water was doing a great job of breaking down the stems. Not much came off on its own, but just poking around was enough for pieces to fall off, washed away by the stream. I couldn¡¯t remember how long the podcast had said jute took, but I was happy to give these another day or two. The whole point was the threads didn¡¯t break down in water, so, the longer I left it, the easier it¡¯d be for me.

    Checks over, I stopped for lunch, then back to the routine, ending the day by starting on the last wall for the room.

    A simple day. So was the next one, and the next one. Wake up, check on everything, gather a bit more, make a fire. One foot in front of the other.

    Then finally the reeds seemed ready to ¡°harvest¡±, floppy when I poked them.

    So I could focus, I finished the rest of my routine first, coming back early afternoon. The podcast hadn¡¯t really gone into detail how the threads were taken out. Well, I pulled the reeds out of the water and tried stripping the first one. The stem fell apart easily enough, leaving behind the bundle of threads, but it was tedious, so much to pick off. I could sort of slide it through my hand to ¡°brush¡± it, but I didn¡¯t want to get a cut or rope burn from doing it¡ªif only I had an actual brush.

    In the end, the best I could do was find a split stick, sliding the threads through. That worked well¡­ until the stick broke. But it worked well enough that I found a couple more sticks to split myself and finished the batch of reeds off with those.

    From a stem about as thick as my thumb to a bundle of threads thin as a shoelace, maybe smaller once they dried out.

    I hadn¡¯t exactly counted, but guessed I¡¯d cut something like thirty reeds, maybe closer to forty, so the pile of threads wasn¡¯t that impressive. That was fine, I had plenty of time to collect more reeds. For now, I hung the threads over a branch to dry.

    Too late to go cut some more reeds, I sat down by the fire pit, catching my breath. Hadn¡¯t really stopped since having lunch. But not for long, important to keep moving. Slow was fine, but keep moving, don¡¯t stop.

    Shuffling around, I prepared for my evening fire and thought about what to do with the threads. I wasn¡¯t sure if there was something special about a spinning wheel or if it just, like, braided threads into string. As far as I knew, rope was also just braided string. Hopefully.

    Once I made rope, I thought, replacing the vines would be best before they broke apart. Wouldn¡¯t want my room to collapse. Or maybe use the rope to make it easier to gather more reeds, tying them into bundles. Keep some rope around to use first.

    The next day, I knew what I wanted to do, but my routine came first. That involved checking on the pea plant I¡¯d grown from a sprout. The pods had come along, looking pretty much ready to eat¡ªeight days based on my carved calendar. All of the first pea plants I¡¯d picked from had already grown new pods, so eight days seemed about right.

    However, I wanted to leave them longer, make sure the peas were ready to grow. I couldn¡¯t remember how many sprouts I¡¯d planted here, but it was more than one and only one had grown.

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    After that ¡°distraction¡±, I finished up my routine without issue and checked on the thread bundle. Spread out thinly, they managed to dry out overnight, bits of stem flaking off as I brushed them. Not wanting to scratch up my hands, I switched to use a stick to brush down and scrape off those bits.

    Looking at the hanging thread, it still didn¡¯t feel real that I¡¯d actually taken this stuff out of a plant, actually like real thread. Not as thin as thread for sewing, but thinner than yarn.

    Wanting to focus, I had an early lunch before coming back to the thread, ready to braid. A small help, I had a lot of experience braiding hair. Not just with three groups either. Still, I didn¡¯t want it to take forever, so I wasn¡¯t going to use single strands.

    I fumbled a bit tying the one end, then split the threads into three groups and started braiding. It was a bit awkward since, well, hair was attached to a scalp while these threads weren¡¯t. Once I had some done, I could at least hold it between my knees and, later on, keep the end under my foot. Otherwise, it was easier since it didn¡¯t wriggle or complain about how long it was taking even though she was the one who asked me to do it in the first place.

    Not that I held on to any grudges.

    Over, under, outside to the middle, over and over, the repetitive task calming. Different to the way weaving was. This was something familiar to me, bringing back memories, bringing out a soft smile.

    I hadn¡¯t hated that life. Looking after the other children had given me a purpose, something to distract me from hating the rest of my life. I didn¡¯t have to think about why my parents abandoned me. Why no one adopted me, even though I was put up as a baby. Why other children at school would ask me why I smelled like curry, even though I never ate anything like that, the orphanage mostly serving roasts and other stuff that could be cooked in bulk.

    Instead, I could sit there every morning and braid Hatty¡¯s hair, brush Becky¡¯s into a ponytail, all those little moments filling up the day.

    And now I could braid the reed threads and forget all my troubles. Over, under, fingers sliding along, the thread really feeling like fabric, especially the part I¡¯d already done. Like twine, but smoother. Little by little, I worked along the thread that was about as long as me, ending with something that came up to my shoulders.

    Tying the other end, I felt a rush of accomplishment. My first rope. Well, it was closer to twine than rope, but I didn¡¯t need rope for climbing. This would do.

    Yes, this would do.

    I took down some more threads and started on the next one. No rush, steady progress. Even if it wasn¡¯t something I messed up once I was in the rhythm, I didn¡¯t want to get to the end and realise I¡¯d messed up and have to undo a bunch, then redo it. I didn¡¯t know what would happen if I started going backwards and I didn¡¯t want to find out. So I carefully braided, mind wandering as my hands did what they knew.

    By evening, I had three ropes. The decision I¡¯d come to was to use them to gather more reeds. If I wanted to do more ¡°building¡±, then I would need more rope. It didn¡¯t take that long to prepare it, but it also didn¡¯t hurt to have spare around, especially if something urgent came up.

    So that was what I did the next day after an early lunch.

    Sharp stone in hand, ropes over my shoulder, I went downstream. Not wanting to cut all the closest reeds, I followed the stream farther than I had before. Easy to do since I wasn¡¯t inspecting all the plants as I went. A quick pace, helped by the slope, and I reached a place where a third stream joined on, pretty much making it into a river.

    The problem with that was that the stream joined on the same side as me, leaving me stuck. I considered trying to wade across the smaller stream, but that seemed like a not small risk. If I twisted my ankle¡ªor worse¡ªthen it would be a nightmare getting back up to camp.

    For today, I settled on going back up and cutting down the first patches of reeds I saw. Besides, the responsible harvester I was, I did plan on re-seeding it. The reed seeds I had sowed up near the camp had already grown pretty tall and that was after just a week or so.

    That said, with my ropes, I cut down the first patch and could carry it in one hand. Somewhere between twenty and thirty reeds. Not quite as much as before, but I had two hands, so I could easily bring back more than last time.

    A few more patches of reeds were harvested on my climb back to the camp. It was great: I could carry the bundles under my or on my shoulders or stack them up in front, sort of cradling them. No aching muscles from needing to keep the same position for the whole trip. Not to mention, I could put them down and pick them up again in a second.

    Rope was amazing.

    Back at camp, I didn¡¯t waste any time getting them into the water. Not enough space, I had to stack them, putting rocks on top to weigh them down, fairly buoyant. When it came to the seeds, the rope unfortunately couldn¡¯t help. Maybe I could try making bags at some point.

    Well, nothing else for it, I carried them down in a couple trips, expanding where I¡¯d planted the last reed seeds. It would be nice once they all made seeds, no need to go so far. My little farm.

    Thinking of it like that, coming back up to the camp, the wheat I¡¯d planted was very noticeable. It felt like I¡¯d only planted it yesterday, but it had been eight days according to my calendar.

    A lot of the other things had come up too. The carrots had grown, flowered, and made a bunch of seeds. The onions grew super fast, looking full-grown after only a week. Again, though, I left them to flower and make seeds. My plan right now was to try and grow as much as I ate, sowing extra seeds nearby in case something went wrong with my farms.

    Everything sort of came into focus as I was thinking about that. I¡¯d been here for twenty-four days according to my calendar. It might have looked like all I had managed to do was make a shoddy room and pile up some rocks, but I was growing my own food, making my own rope. Firewood was the only thing I still relied on the forest for, but the reeds weren¡¯t too thin and the wheat straw made good kindling, so maybe I could dry and burn those eventually.

    Plans for the future.

 Ch. 10 Home

    At last, at long last, I felt like I could grow. That belief helped me get up in the morning and get to work.

    I tended to all the chores I¡¯d made for myself, had an early lunch, then carried on braiding the reed threads. Three already done yesterday, I fell into the rhythm easily, listening to the stream flow, birds tweet, wind at times whistling, rustling the leaves of the tree I sat under.

    Now and then, an insect buzzed close to me, but they were skittish. All the creatures here seemed to be. I still hadn¡¯t caught more than a glimpse of the squirrel-like things, only saw birds that were high up in trees or darting in for a snack, flying away right after. There hadn¡¯t been any fish in the stream that I¡¯d seen, maybe camouflaged or hiding among the reeds and other plants. The stream was small, though. If I went farther down than where the third stream joined, where it looked like a river, maybe there were fish there.

    Well, it didn¡¯t matter to me if there were fish. I was happy being vegan. Eating stuff that was already killed and butchered was one thing, but doing it myself¡­ just the thought made me feel queasy. Even if I did end up going to a village, who knew if I would be able to eat meat again.

    Idle thoughts while my hands moved without needing to think.

    The plan I¡¯d come up with, I made one more not-really-that-thick rope, then switched to even thinner ropes, more like twine. I wanted to use them to secure my room, so they didn¡¯t need to be thick. The notches of the branches kept it pretty stable and just needed something to make sure they didn¡¯t slip if they were knocked.

    It wasn¡¯t any faster making twine, but it meant the threads I had would go further. Four more days or so until my next batch of threads were ready. By evening, I had the fourth rope and then four lengths of twine. Good progress.

    With that, I was ready to devote tomorrow to replacing the vines I¡¯d used for my room. However, when tomorrow came, I ended up with another task to do first.

    Checking on the pea pods for the bush I¡¯d grown, they were much darker, a couple popped open¡ªjust what I was waiting for. Picking the mature ones, I popped them open and collected the peas.

    Rather than soak them until they sprouted first, I just buried them under nearby trees, not wanting them to compete, and heavily watered them. I hadn¡¯t kept track the first time, but guessed it had been like two weeks before they grew enough to flower. I had kept track of how long the pods took to grow, though, which was about a week. Pick them earlier for smaller, sweeter peas; later for bigger, bitterer peas.

    That wasn¡¯t the end of my farming, the wheat I was growing looked ready to harvest. Not all the wheat had big kernels, so I split them up into roasting and sowing piles as I cut them down. No rush, I only picked three of the twenty-odd wheat for sowing, their kernels noticeably bigger than the others. That meant some more digging to make room for the extra seeds, but it was still a small patch.

    Since I¡¯d already done all that, I checked on the carrot and onions patches too, finding ones that had made seeds and sowing those. It was pretty interesting. I didn¡¯t know much about plant biology, but it was like the ones in the middle knew there wasn¡¯t room, so didn¡¯t flower¡ªonly the ones on the edge did.

    I wondered if something similar went on with the wheat and peas, but couldn¡¯t come up with anything that made sense. Well, the pods definitely dropped down, but the peas didn¡¯t seem to want to grow close together. As for the wheat, the kernels seemed to get eaten a lot, but otherwise they stayed ¡°ripe¡±?

    Thinking really wasn¡¯t my strength.

    It didn¡¯t matter too much, so I didn¡¯t linger on those thoughts. Once I finished farming, I started replacing the vines on my room with the twine, which wasn¡¯t as easy as taking the vine off and putting the twine on.

    No, the first step was to strip the leaves off the roof and take out the loose sticks, then I hacked at the vines holding the other sticks onto the roof. Looking at the pile, I sighed. Going backwards really did suck.

    I sucked it up, kept going. With all that off, I cut through the vines holding the frame tight one at a time, tying the twine around the ¡°joints¡±. When I got back to the roof, it was actually harder, the twine thinner than the vine, so the gap between the sticks wasn¡¯t as big as I wanted it. More sticks made the roof heavier and not any more waterproof. After some fiddling, I ended up snapping some sticks into small pieces to space out the sticks on the roof.

    That took up most of my afternoon, a lot of that spent fretting over the knots and pulling them tight, but the result was something that, well, would hopefully last a long time. As long as I could make a good roof, it wouldn¡¯t get weathered.

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    Just like that, I collapsed in a sigh, how to make the roof something I still hadn¡¯t solved.

    Before I could get too depressed, I walked over to where I hung the threads and grabbed some more. Needed two more lengths of twine to finish the roof¡¯s base. So I braided, focusing on that, pushing away the thoughts that wanted to drag me down.

    If I had time for that, I had time to think of solutions.

    I kept going into the evening, braiding while I waited for the carrots to roast, but couldn¡¯t see well enough to tie knots. A job for tomorrow.

    Night fell and I slept, curled up in the crevice of a rocky outcrop, but I¡¯d soon have somewhere better to sleep¡­ hopefully.

    After my morning routine, I finished off the roof¡¯s base. Over lunch, I thought about what to do next, settling on braiding the rest of the threads¡ªat least until I came up with something better.

    So that was what I did. Sat under the tree, I braided more twine and my mind wandered. Thatching still seemed like the best idea to me. I had straw, I was making twine. The way I¡¯d tied down the roof was fresh in my mind too.

    Because the problem I had with tying the straw into bundles was that I had long threads, so it would have been a waste to use one per bundle, and I thought it would be fiddly cutting the threads into short strips and braiding them. I liked how I didn¡¯t have to spend much time tying the ends with these long strips.

    But with the roof, I just tied one stick after another, not cutting the twine. That would work with the straw, right? Like bunting with straw bundles all on the same string. I¡¯d need a couple lengths of twine for each strip across the roof, and the roof would need, like, three strips, and more than one layer would be best for making it waterproof¡­.

    Trying to keep all that in my head, I came up with twelve lengths of twine to start with. A few more just in case. Looking at the hanging threads I had left, I guessed I needed the next batch to do it. Not really a problem, another day or two until I could start processing all of it, or, no, better to use up all the thread I had first. The next batch of reeds were more clumped up, so probably needed more time.

    I could also get more wheat to pass a day. With my ropes, I reckoned I could bring back, like, four times as much per trip. Plenty of straw to thatch the roof and maybe weave into the walls. Oh, I needed to finish the last wall too. The roof was more important, but the wall wouldn¡¯t be a waste of time either if I ran out of other things to do.

    This was great. Perfect. A whole list of chores. Even if it rained for a week straight, I could snuggle up and braid.

    But it wasn¡¯t raining, so I worked on everything else.

    I spent the rest of the day braiding and spent the next day braiding too. My pace slowed, though, fingers kinda raw from all the fiddling. Not enough to stop me, but I started taking breaks to rest my fingers. Sorted through the straw and went down to where I was growing the reeds, happy to see the first ones I¡¯d planted were growing the pine cones. I could ¡°farm¡± them too.

    After a sleep, my hands felt a lot better. Still, I tried not to overdo it, braiding slower and taking breaks to soak my hands in the cool water a little downstream.

    Sky growing darker, wind colder, I finished up the eleventh twine, hanging it next to the others. There wasn¡¯t much point starting another one, I thought. Even if I wanted to, though, there wasn¡¯t much thread hanging there.

    ¡°Guess I can see if the reeds are ready tomorrow,¡± I muttered to myself. More and more, these days, my thoughts sometimes slipped out¡ªas if my voice was afraid of dying.

    In the morning, I got through the essentials, then skipped my usual chores to check on the reeds. The extra day seemed like enough to get them how the first batch was. Still, there was so much to get through, I decided to only take out some at a time to strip. Probably would take me more than a day, so make my job tomorrow easier.

    Enough food and firewood, I focused on gathering the thread, slow and steady. Knew what I was doing, so didn¡¯t take me long to fall into a rhythm.

    Come evening, I looked about half done, felt pretty done too. The reeds were obviously heavier after soaking up water, a lot more of a workout than braiding the thin threads.

    That was nice in its own way. Easy to fall asleep.

    Although my arms felt stiff when I woke up, I worked through it, not really aching. Slow and steady. It helped that the stem fell apart even easier. At the end of the day, I had a branch full of threads again, a pile of decomposing stem bits, and very tired arms. Couldn¡¯t help but smile.

    Another busy day, another good sleep.

    After neglecting my chores for two days, I went back to my old routine in the morning, checking on the plants, foraging for more food. Slow and steady, my arms feeling heavy and stiff. Still, I couldn¡¯t stop, so I went back to braiding in the afternoon.

    Just one short for my roof, I didn¡¯t push myself and only braided one length of twine. Once that was done, I fumbled through making an early fire and cooking, in the end not really finishing much earlier than a normal day.

    I definitely needed to leave the reeds longer to soak and to try to find a better way to get the thread out.

    The next day, I used my ¡°free¡± time to work on the roof. Made a bundle of straw as big as I could hold with one hand, tie it up at the end, then do it again. It wasn¡¯t as awkward as tying the sticks to the roof and something I could do sitting under the tree, so that was nice. Relaxing.

    Quicker than braiding, I finished the first ¡°strip¡± in half an hour or so. Not that I really had any sense of time any more, so who knew how long it actually was. Anyway, I finished it and, walking to my room, my heart beat harder and harder until I noticed it.

    Was I really getting so excited over this?

    Well, that was okay. This was the culmination of so much.

    Like I was putting a tiara on a princess, I so carefully placed the strip across the roof, gently tied the loose ends to the frame. It only covered halfway across and about a third down, but there it was, my first bit of thatching.

    Strip after strip, I spent the hours patching up more and more of the roof. It looked great. Every time I walked over to add another piece, I couldn¡¯t stop smiling. Like a real house.

    After another day, I had the second layer done. Although I didn¡¯t know if that would be enough, I felt like another layer would be a waste, deciding to wait for a rainy day to see if it was needed.

    Until then, it was perfect. Home.

 Ch. 11 Not alone

    After spending so long struggling, having a place to call home made everything feel so much easier. Made my thoughts lighter. I felt like I could actually build something, not just survive.

    Switch flipped, I started thinking about that kind of stuff, things to make my life easier or better. Like putting straw down in the room to make it more comfortable. That meant a trip up to the plateau to collect more wheat, my farm still growing, but I was happy to do it, eager to see how much I could carry with my ropes.

    The answer? Lots. All four bales were as big as the ropes could be, each one about as much as I could carry before. Like I¡¯d found with the reeds, though, it was so much easier carrying them like this, able to put them down and adjust how I held them if certain muscles were getting tired. If only my camp was at the bottom of the hill, I could just roll the bales down.

    Those needed a few days to dry out. While I waited, I tidied up some things. The reeds I were growing had made seeds, so I sowed those around the marshy bank. Still had the last wall to finish, so weaved that. Plenty of threads hanging on the branch, I spent my spare time between ideas braiding more twine.

    My next idea came when I noticed my crop of wheat looked ready. More of the kernels were big this time, so I was looking at digging up a lot more area to sow, which meant a bunch of kneeling on the ground, and I thought a hoe would be really useful.

    That wasn¡¯t impossible, was it? I mean, an axe seemed like it would just fall apart unless I could find the perfect stick and stone combo, but a hoe just dug into the dirt.

    I thought about it while cutting down the wheat, sorting by kernel size, then put the small ones to cure in the larder¡ªwhich was already stuffed full from all the wheat I¡¯d brought down the other day¡ªand the stems to dry under the tree.

    Finally, I went to find the perfect stick and stone for the job. A stick that was pretty long and kind of thick, but not too thick, important it wasn¡¯t heavy. A stone that had a good shape for tying to a stick, sharp.

    Not an easy search.

    It helped that I¡¯d collected a bunch of sticks for firewood and knew where to look for stones, but I still tried a few times before I found a stone that worked. Tied the twine across this way and that, hooked onto a small notch on the long stick to keep it from slipping, the weight feeling good when I lifted it and gave it a swing.

    I would probably need to fix it soon, learn how to do it better. Definitely needed to take care while swinging it in case I sent a stone flying up into the air. For now, though, I had something that wasn¡¯t just a stone. A tool. An actual tool.

    Back at the wheat patch, I didn¡¯t waste time and got straight into it. Too scared to lift it over my head, I only raised it shoulder height, then swung down. A shock ran through my arm, almost making me drop it. But it wasn¡¯t too bad, ready for it on the next swing. Swing after swing, breaking up the dirt, then I went back over it, pulling the head along to make rows of loose dirt.

    It looked kind of proper, something I might have seen in a textbook. I planted the large kernels, watered them, and put all that to the back of my head for about nine days (according to my calendar).

    Another day¡¯s work coming to an end.

    Given a couple days, the huge batch of straw I¡¯d brought down had mostly dried out. Not dry enough for kindling, but, excited for the comfort, I thought dry enough for bedding. After checking on everything, some farming for my other foods¡ªmostly an excuse to use the hoe some more¡ªI sorted through the straw, finding the driest clumps and moving them to my room.

    It wasn¡¯t perfect, I found out, lying on the straw only for it to poke at every bit of uncovered skin. I hoped that would go away after a day or two, or that I could get used to it. Maybe it had been a mistake.

    Oh well, time would tell.

    At least for now, still there, it felt like lying on thick grass, not really soft, but softer than the ground. Hard to tell in the middle of the afternoon, but hopefully warmer at night too. I¡¯d spent a good month sleeping while sitting up, curled up, so actually stretching out sounded amazing.

    Thoughts of straw and the ground shifted to other things I¡¯d love. An actual plate, for starters. Something that my food wouldn¡¯t roll off and that didn¡¯t feel so dirty to use. Maybe I could find clay, but I doubted I could heat it up enough to, like, fire it? Even then, I wasn¡¯t sure if clay could be used for plates and bowls without a finish. Well, if I could fire clay, bricks made more sense. Then I could really build something.

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    After trying to fill the day with work for so long, it caught up to me. Drifting off, I didn¡¯t quite fall asleep, thoughts fading in and out and blending with dreams I only caught glimpses of. Straw, clay, bricks¡­.

    Maybe minutes, maybe an hour, I woke up enough to crawl out, feeling refreshed. A bit itchy, but refreshed. I tried to remember what I¡¯d dreamt about, but all I could remember was the meandering thoughts of clay and pottery and bricks.

    I stood up, staring at the room, and it clicked. Even if I couldn¡¯t fire clay, people had made houses out of mud and straw for millennia. Of course, they had generations to learn what mud to use, how much straw to add, how thick to make it. I had a few sentences I hoped I was remembering correctly.

    But what was the worst that could happen? If it cracked and fell apart, that was fine. All I had was time to waste.

    Of course, I couldn¡¯t make them all mud walls: I needed to get inside. So I settled on doing the two side walls, leaving the smaller one at the front as a door. I also needed a ¡°quarry¡± where I could dump water and mix straw into the mud¡­ which meant getting the hoe out, I thought, smiling. I loved using it. Back on topic, it also meant near the stream. It didn¡¯t matter if the water was warm, but I also didn¡¯t want to carry the mud far. Needed a good rock for carrying mud too.

    Plan coming together, I got to work. Looked around the top of the stream for a good spot, then went up the mountain to places with a bunch of rocks and stones, then dug up a bunch of loose dirt. Swing after swing after swing. Added water, added straw. Took off my boots and socks and rolled up my trousers, standing in it to mix the straw in, too thick to use a stick, squelching, cold, but fun.

    Then I started piling it up on both sides of the two walls, using the wall itself as like the steel in reinforced concrete. It took a few tries to get the consistency right, but it was as easy as adding water or adding dirt, so I found something that I could mix, move, and stick. Started at the ground, going up a little at a time. Glad the weather was hot and dry.

    The drying wasn¡¯t instant, though, so I braided more twine while I waited. No rush.

    One day, two, three. A routine that went round and around, feeling more like a real room every time. Dimmer, quieter, warmer. Cosy.

    The braiding wasn¡¯t quite so rewarding. I knew I¡¯d have a use for more twine eventually, but I wanted to make, like, fabric¡ªcloth. The problem with that was I didn¡¯t know how to knit or crochet and, if I weaved something, I¡¯d need a wooden frame around it. I didn¡¯t think felting would work, pretty sure that was for wool.

    Nothing I could really do about it. Looking down at my clothes, that would just have to be the timer for finding a village, I thought.

    Hopefully not for a long time.

    One day became, two, three, a week, weeks. Checking on the plants, expanding my farms until they made enough for me, drying straw and reeds to burn. Rain came and went, eroding some of my ¡°house¡±, but I made the roof wider and that kept it from being washed away.

    Flattened reeds with a rock and dried them, weaving them into a more wind-proof door, using twine and sticks for strength. That worked so well, I practised, wove a few square plates with flattened reeds, then kept trying for a basket until I managed to make something that worked. Wasn¡¯t pretty, but it worked.

    Found more vegetables to grow. One looked like asparagus, but tasted like mushroom with a ginger kick after roasting it. The other was like if bell peppers actually looked like small bells, narrow at the top and flaring out at the bottom; once roasted, the texture was smooth, but had a plain taste with a hint of sweetness. Kind of like marrow. A bit hollow in the middle, I liked stuffing it with the mustard leaves.

    Slowly slowing down, I spotted the skittish animals of the forest, darting among the shadows and through bushes, and I found more slimes on the plateau¡­ and watched one get eaten by a rather large bird, feathers maroon and beak stained in blood. Found bones with teeth marks in them, any meat long-since scavenged. Buried them for the little peace of mind it brought me.

    I bathed every other day while the weather stayed warm, washed my clothes once a week. Replaced the straw I used for bedding once a week too. Warm inside my home, I usually used my jumper as a pillow, keeping the straw from poking my neck and head.

    Tried making an axe, but the problem was finding a stone sharp enough. Plenty stones were fine for sawing, only to fail at, well, axing. Either broke quickly or didn¡¯t really bite into the wood.

    After the encounter with that large bird, though, I made an axe I could carry in one hand, bringing it with me when I went out. Realised the animals in the forest were probably skittish for a reason.

    Day after day, threshing wheat, weaving flattened reeds. Slow and steady. I didn¡¯t need another room, didn¡¯t need more food. This was enough.

    Although weeks and months didn¡¯t really mean anything in this world, I kept count of the days, decided months were four weeks. That made it the fourth day of the third month here. Taking a while, I worked out the current date back in my old world.

    I smiled to myself. It would have been Hatty¡¯s birthday today. Or rather, it was, I just wasn¡¯t there to celebrate it with her. Or maybe it wasn¡¯t her birthday, given up to the orphanage as a baby like I was, but not even with a birth certificate.

    Taking in a deep breath, I tried to blink the tears away. There was no blood between us, but they were my family and I missed them so very much.

    Then a twig snapped nearby.

    I jerked around to look, knowing no animal came so near, and I was right¡ªit was no animal.

    A person.

 Ch. 12 First impressions

    Over by my carrot patch, draped in shadows, stood a person. Walked a person, coming closer. Not too tall, I thought, or too big. I thought they were a woman, long, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that swished as she walked. Closer, she wore dark clothes stained with patches of dirt, trousers and something like a cardigan and suit jacket mixed together, loose fit, but a smooth texture.

    Then there was her face. Narrow chin, thin lips, cheeks kind of gaunt, eyes looking big with how open they were¡ªeven as she narrowed them, eyebrows low and bunched. Closer, her pale skin glowed when it caught the light, the dirt on her face like carefully applied makeup, drawing the eye.

    ¡°Klin¡¯graht!¡±

    Belatedly, I realised her gaze was on me, that, still as I was, I wasn¡¯t invisible. But what she¡¯d shouted to me, raising an arm in not quite a wave or a salute, I had no clue. So I could only awkwardly give a little wave back and say, ¡°Hello?¡±

    Closer, she came. It was hard to tell with her loosely-fitted clothes, but she wasn¡¯t skin and bones underneath, fabric painting a picture as she moved. Some weight to her walking too, footsteps not quite heavy, but confident, never fretting over where to step, just moving at her pace. I would have wondered if I¡¯d misjudged her gender, but there was one part of her clothing that wasn¡¯t so loose.

    Coming out from the forest, into the clearing I thought of as my camp, she spoke again, not a word of it making sense to me. It sounded German, some rough sounds to it, but I didn¡¯t hear anything like ¡°ich¡± or ¡°bin¡± or the handful of other basic words I¡¯d picked up.

    Maybe my face showed my confusion, her voice trailing off. A deeper voice than usual for a woman, rich, the same confidence to it as her walking, neither pausing nor changing speed. Of course, thinking how nice she sounded didn¡¯t exactly help our situation. Feeling pressured to reply, I said, ¡°Uh, Deutsch?¡±

    She looked back at me with a frown.

    ¡°English, I speak English?¡± I said.

    After a moment, she spoke that same language again, slower this time, carefully enunciating, yet it was all Greek to me. Or Arabic. Or one of the many other languages I didn¡¯t know a single word from.

    It didn¡¯t take long for her to give up, a long sigh slipping out from between her lips. I hated feeling like I had let her down. Desperate, I tried to come up something, anything.

    So I pointed at myself and said, ¡°Louise.¡±

    She looked at me like I was crazy. I probably was.

    ¡°Louise,¡± I said again, pointing at myself like an enthusiastic child.

    After staring me down for what felt like a minute, she pointed at me. ¡°Louije.¡±

    Almost, but not close enough. ¡°S, s, s¡ªLou-i-se,¡± I said.

    ¡°Louis¡¯s,¡± she said.

    ¡°Louise Louise Louise.¡±

    She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. My heart skipped a beat, wondering if I¡¯d upset her, but I couldn¡¯t look away. Maybe because I hadn¡¯t seen anyone else in so long, her eyes looked so pretty. Tropical seas, light blue tinged with green, turquoise. Turquoise eyes that looked like they had waves, light catching different with every little movement she or I made. A whole sea trapped in her gaze.

    ¡°Louise.¡±

    A shiver ran down my back, and I smiled. A rush of joy from hearing my name after so long alone and her voice sounded so nice saying it. I wished I could hear her say it over and over, but now wasn¡¯t the time to be indulgent.

    So I pointed at her.

    She caught on, pointing at herself and saying, ¡°Hyraj.¡±

    Except it wasn¡¯t quite a j. ¡°Hyrasch,¡± I said, going for the German sound.

    ¡°Hyr-aj,¡± she said, emphasising it.

    A kind of coughing sound. ¡°Hyrach?¡± I said.

    ¡°J, j, j¡ªHy-r-aj,¡± she said, making me want to crawl into a hole for how I¡¯d done that to her a minute ago.

    Well, she didn¡¯t look upset, back to her flat mouth and narrowed eyes, so I pushed through my embarrassment. ¡°Hyraj,¡± I said, trying for something between a ch and j.

    And she pointed at me. A lot of tension I didn¡¯t know I had left me, shoulders sinking, a sigh slipping out.

    However, that was the end of our conversation. What else was there to say? Especially me, there was no point teaching her English words if English didn¡¯t exist in this world. I didn¡¯t want her to go, though, not after spending so long alone. Even if we couldn¡¯t talk, I just had to think up something else.

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    For now, she was looking around, maybe interested in my camp, so I had some time. What would interest her? She had a bulky bag on her back, looked heavy, and a sword on her hip. At least, there was a scabbard and a sword handle.

    Maybe we weren¡¯t so different. If so, then I knew what she¡¯d like.

    ¡°Ah, Hyraj?¡± I said, carefully saying her name. Unhurried, her gaze slid back to me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to point at my larder, then started walking, checking over my shoulder to make sure she was following. Thankfully, she did follow.

    It wasn¡¯t a long walk, yet I still managed to work myself into a proper mess, realising with every step how stupid this was. Would it be more embarrassing to just stop and shrug my shoulders?

    Yes, it would; that was all that kept my feet moving. At the larder, I moved the slab-like rock I used for a door, then started taking out fruit to offer to her. My mouth opened, ¡°Here,¡± on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it in, silently holding out an apple and pear.

    She looked at them for a long moment, then looked at me.

    ¡°Hyraj,¡± I said, stretching a little farther.

    Another long moment, then she reached up and pushed my hands back.

    Bowing my head, I awkwardly lowered hands back, then put the fruit back in the larder, staying like that to regain my nerve. Maybe she just didn¡¯t like those ones, I told myself. A lie to make myself feel better. Didn¡¯t work, though.

    Overcome by something, I grabbed the basin of sprouts, showed it to her. She looked, flat smile curling into a frown. So I balanced it, holding it in one hand, and grabbed some, shoving them into my mouth and chewing. Show her they¡¯re fine to eat. And I held the basin out to her again, hands on the verge of shaking.

    She stepped back.

    I was so stupid, so very stupid. But I couldn¡¯t stop myself. I put the basin back and picked up a bunch of other things: carrots, onions, asparagus, bell peppers. Surely, she¡¯d like one of those.

    Oh, but, I had to cook them first. Rushing past her, I left those by the fire pit and then ran to the tree to pick up dried reeds and some straw. With those in the fire pit, I took out my fire sticks, almost dropping them as I started making a fire, clumsy in my haste. Pausing, I took a deep breath, then kept rolling the stick between my hands.

    The sticks nice and dry, my technique well practised, a thin tendril of smoke soon rose up, familiar smell in the air. I had to fight the urge to try starting the fire right away, knowing I would look more stupid if I failed than if I took longer. So I kept spinning it, building up the hot charcoal dust stuff, trying not to see if she was watching me.

    Then I couldn¡¯t help but look at her as she stepped in front of me and picked up a reed. I stopped, watching how she held it in her hand, fingers wrapped around it¡ªlong fingers with such short nails.

    And then the reed burst into flames, making me jump, fire sticks clattering to the floor. She didn¡¯t so much as blink. Or, well, I didn¡¯t notice her react at all, apparently expecting that.

    Squatting down, she set the reed in the middle of the straw, flame quickly spreading. Her gaze lingered on the fire for a few seconds before drifting over to me. Unhurried, always unhurried, like she could only move her eyes at that speed.

    She spoke again, but quickly stopped and clicked her tongue. After standing up, she strode off, going to a tree by the edge of my camp. I hadn¡¯t noticed earlier, but her backpack was there and some things were out. A kind of blanket, it looked like, folded over a few times, which was where she sat once she reached there.

    Snapping out of it, I snapped back to the fire. Yes, she did magic, that surprised me, but it wasn¡¯t surprising. Right now, I needed to focus.

    I pushed myself into the familiar routine and worked on preparing and cooking all the vegetables. Wrapped up the carrots and bell peppers to roast, ¡°fried¡± the pea pods and asparagus on the cooking slab, picked up the onions by their leaves and held them over the fire. It was kind of hectic doing so much at once, usually only cooking carrots and something to go with them. Didn¡¯t even cross my mind to flavour anything with mustard leaves.

    So I cooked, piling everything on a reed plate as it was ready. Once it was all done, I picked up the plate and took it over to Hyraj, saying her name in my head a few times to make sure I wouldn¡¯t mess it up.

    Busy looking where I was walking to make sure I didn¡¯t trip, I only saw her face when I was a step away from her. Well, her normal expression looked stern enough, but now¡­. Another shiver ran down my back and she didn¡¯t say my name to offset the chill.

    Kneeling down, I held the plate out to her and said, ¡°Hyraj.¡±

    Her gaze flicked down, then back up. ¡°Acht,¡± she said¡ªor something like that¡ªand leaned back, crossing her hands on her lap.

    I guessed that meant no.

    Frozen, I couldn¡¯t think of what to do, a very painful pause until I realised that I should start by getting away from her. So I forced my legs to stand, trying not to drop the food. One step, two steps, then I couldn¡¯t help but look back.

    She still sat there, her very narrowed gaze staring at me.

    Lesson learned, I quickly turned around and kept walking, heart pounding. It wasn¡¯t like I was scared, though. I thought it was because I felt like a nuisance.

    Regardless of how I felt, the more pressing issue was the big pile of food I didn¡¯t have the appetite for. I couldn¡¯t waste it, though, so I had to sit by the fire and, bite after bite, force the food down.

    While I did, I ended up looking at my hands a lot. Such different hands to hers. Brown and pink, fairly rough before I even came here.

    Then it hit me: maybe she thought I was dirty?

    I mean, I probably was, water and ash only doing so much. Probably smelled terrible too, but there was even less I could do about that. At least I wore long sleeves and trousers so she wouldn¡¯t know I hadn¡¯t shaved in months.

    Thinking all that, a fire in front of me, early in the day¡­ I came up with another horrible idea I had to do. Forcing down the last of the food, I hurried over to the ash pile with a rock ¡°bowl¡± of water and made up some paste. Bringing that with me, I strode to the stream, stripped off all my clothes, and started washing. It was colder than I was used to, normally cleaning my bottom half and then my top half, but I wasn¡¯t thinking. Well, wasn¡¯t thinking anything helpful.

    I wanted her to see me clean myself, but knew it was weird to call her over to watch, so I decided I had to strip off entirely and take a long time¡ªbecause she would surely look over eventually. Great idea.

    Whether she did or not, I didn¡¯t know, too busy suffering from the cold wind.

    After putting up with it as long as I could, I grabbed my clothes and rushed over to the fire. Desperate for warmth, I squatted close, using my hands to brush off as much water as I could, wringing out my hair, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

    While waiting to dry enough to put my clothes back on, I looked over at her. She was sat in the same place as before, something in her hand¡ªa book. Reading, probably. No way she¡¯d paid any attention to my ¡°bath¡±.

    An empty laugh slipped out, lowering my head until my gaze was on my hands, fighting the urge to clench them.

    What a wonderful first impression I must have made.

 Ch. 13 Adding up

    After humiliating myself enough, I thankfully ran out of any more ideas. A small blessing. So I sat by the fire, wishing I could just talk to her. Well, I wasn¡¯t really the best at making friends¡­ or good at making friends. Pretty bad at it, actually.

    But I hated how she must have thought I was an idiot. I knew I¡¯d acted weird, but I didn¡¯t want her to hate me. If we could talk, I knew so much, so some of it would definitely be useful for her.

    Glancing up, I looked to see if she was still reading. She wasn¡¯t, something else in her hand, hard to see it from this far away, but she soon brought it to her mouth and started chewing.

    Okay, maybe she didn¡¯t need my help finding food to eat. That thing she sat on was probably a blanket or sleeping bag or something like that. The sword she carried probably better at dealing with wild animals than my little axe, not to mention she probably knew how to actually use it.

    Sighing, I curled up, gaze back on the dancing flames. No point feeding the fire, so it was already dying out. The reeds burned really well, left only ash behind, hot while it lasted.

    If I could talk to her, maybe she would want to hear about combustion equations or something else I¡¯d memorised for a test. That kind of stuff stuck in my head pretty well¡ªonce I stuck it in there, not like I had a photographic memory¡ªso I had plenty to tell her.

    But maybe that stuff wasn¡¯t true here. Maybe sticks burned because of magic, maybe the air was made up of entirely different elements. Would she want to hear me try and mess up reciting the story of Romeo and Juliet? Since she had a sword, maybe she¡¯d want to hear about the Battle of Hastings¡­ but I couldn¡¯t remember anything about the battle itself, just that Harold Godwinson had died in it.

    The French lessons I¡¯d sat through would definitely interest her, right?

    Giggling to myself, I honestly did feel better from that silly joke, my spiral into despair stopped in its tracks. There was no point thinking how pointless it would be if I could speak to her when I couldn¡¯t speak to her.

    Wanting to prove that to myself, I went through all the classes I could think of. History, geography, art, drama, religious studies, music, maths¡­.

    Maths?

    My heart throbbed, a sudden burst of joy pumping through my veins. Numbers didn¡¯t need words. However, as excited as I was, I remembered my humiliation keenly. Stopped myself from running over to Hyraj right now and instead took a deep breath, then let it out.

    Numbers didn¡¯t need words, but they did need numbers and she probably used different ones¡­ and twos and threes. But the whole point of numbers were that they, like, meant something, sort of a real thing.

    Trying to come up with some way to ¡°talk¡± numbers with her, I looked over at my firewood. If I put some sticks down, then counted them one at a time, that would be obvious, right?

    Just that, while I was looking there, I noticed my calendar. The tally.

    Of course: I could draw lines, even just dots. And they didn¡¯t have to be on the tree¡ªI could make charcoal or use ash or, even better, just scratch it in the dirt. Wasn¡¯t going to run out of dirt.

    A plan in mind, I went over to my firewood. The reeds were a pretty good size for drawing in the dirt. So I took one and squatted down, grass not growing under the broad tree, then started making marks: one dot, space, two dots, space, three dots. I went all the way to ten, then paused, wondering if she maybe didn¡¯t count in tens. I knew computers only used ones and zeroes, but maybe she counted in twelves like a clock, or something else entirely.

    Well, I would have to try and learn how to do it if it came to that. For now, I just added more dots, going up to twenty.

    First part of the plan done, I didn¡¯t go and drag her over yet. Once she told me what the numbers were, what next? Well, I wanted to show her I could do maths, so I¡¯d need to write something in the dirt¡­.

    What if she used different, like, symbols for plus and equals?

    Face scrunched up, headache tingling, I really wanted to give up, thinking not something I was good at. Remembering wasn¡¯t too bad, something I could just do over and over until it stuck. So I had remembered the important things for tests and done okay. Hadn¡¯t cared enough to remember everything, wouldn¡¯t get many more marks if I did. The older I got, the questions became all about thinking and that really wasn¡¯t something I could just sit down and learn, no matter how often the teachers said you could.

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    When I put it like that, maths kinda was my favourite. Even if they tried to hide the question with a bunch of words, the end result was still putting numbers into an equation, then following the steps to get the answer.

    Put the numbers down¡­. An idea coming to me¡ªmaybe not a good one, but it was better than nothing¡ªI smiled.

    Walking back to the fire pit, I subtly looked to see what she was doing. Apparently finished eating, she was reading again, a metal cup in her hand that she took a sip from. I hadn¡¯t noticed her go to the stream, but I had been pretty focused on my thoughts.

    Well, nothing for it, I took a deep breath in, let it out, and started walking to her. Almost as soon as I did, she looked up from her book. Even though I could barely see her eyes, I felt her stare, pulse going that little faster as it beat in my ears.

    I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I had been so nervous to talk to someone. Presentations hadn¡¯t been this scary.

    But I kept walking, step after step, her sharp gaze becoming clearer and clearer¡ªas did the feeling of being a nuisance. Still, I walked until I was just a few steps away.

    ¡°Hyraj,¡± I said, careful to say it right.

    She pursed her lips, leaving me thinking she would send me off for a moment. But she didn¡¯t, mouth opening and a softly said, ¡°Louise,¡± her answer. For as much as we¡¯d both struggled earlier, she now spoke my name like she had always known it. I smiled before I realised it; stopped myself, pursing my lips a moment.

    Off-balance from that, I tried to come up with something to say, breathing in to say it, only to stop myself again. Maybe because I¡¯d been alone for so long, maybe because her stare was pressuring me, I just felt so flustered, had to look away to collect myself, taking another deep breath.

    That helped, reminding me of my plan. Words didn¡¯t work, but gestures were kind of, like, obvious. So I pointed at her and then pointed to the tree where I¡¯d made my dots.

    She looked at me like I was an idiot, which, to be fair, yes, I knew I had messed up a lot already today. All I could do was point, though. Once, twice, trying not to get frustrated, but my fingers were honest, trembling.

    Turning away, she clicked her tongue. I waited to see what she would do and what she did was take something out of her backpack. A green bottle, probably glass, a tuft of brown sticking out the top. She showed it to me¡ªnot handing it to me, but holding it up for me to see. I wasn¡¯t sure what it was, the only other clue I had the kind of strong smell coming from it, reminding me of vinegar, but not really.

    She let out a sigh, lowering it to the ground. Her hands didn¡¯t go far, though, one coming to the brown bit sticking out the top and¡ªthe moment she made a ring around it with her thumb and forefinger, I realised.

    A flame flickered in the ring, then a small flame grew from the wick, that ¡°bottle¡± an old-fashioned lamp like I¡¯d seen in books about Victorian times. There wasn¡¯t a twisty gear on the side or anything, but I wasn¡¯t sure what those even did.

    After a couple seconds, she put a cap over the wick, then looked up at me with an expression of, ¡°I have this.¡±

    I bit my lip, wondering why she showed me, then it hit me: she thought I wanted to giver her firewood. My mouth started moving on its own; thankfully, my voice didn¡¯t. I hesitated over how to tell her that she misunderstood, thinking and thinking.

    ¡°Um, acht?¡± I said, trying to copy the sound I had barely heard and only once.

    Her eyebrows lowered even more, but she didn¡¯t frown. I didn¡¯t know if that was a good sign.

    Falling back to the gestures, I pointed at her and pointed at the tree. ¡°Hyraj,¡± I said again, hoping that maybe hearing me say her name made her feel a bit happy too, make her willing to humour me.

    She let out a long sigh. With more elegance than I¡¯d ever shown since coming here, she rose to her feet, smooth and unhurried like gravity didn¡¯t affect her. Then she gave a sort of pushing gesture.

    Hoping that meant to lead the way, I started walking, but glanced back to make sure she followed. She did.

    Although a short walk, I still had plenty of time to feel like an idiot. All I could do was settle myself with knowing I probably couldn¡¯t leave a worse impression on her. Probably.

    Underneath the tree, I stopped and pointed at the dots I¡¯d neatly dotted. Didn¡¯t dare look at her. If she looked at all unhappy¡­ I already felt like running off to my room and shutting the door until she left.

    Lost in my thoughts, I almost jumped when she knelt down and picked up a reed, long fingers holding it like a pen. Unhurried like always, she drew shapes in a smooth motion, never stopping, going from one to the next.

    I assumed she understood. If so, then, in her language, one was like a parenthesis, two like an s with the start and end shortened. I stopped trying to relate them to things I knew after that, clearly very different. Three was this shape, four that shape, and so on.

    A small blessing, eleven onwards looked like how we did it. One one, one two, one three. And ten¡ªtheir zero was a slash.

    Giddy, I waited for her to finish, then immediately picked up another reed and wrote down an equation using her numbers: ¡°1 + 2 = 3¡±. Even if she didn¡¯t know the plus and equals signs I used, I just knew she was clever enough to work it out. Nothing else would make sense there.

    There was a longer pause this time, then she wrote down those three numbers. However, rather than put symbols in between, she wrote it like a receipt or how you added a bunch of numbers together, one number on each line and a line across for the sum.

    1

    2

    3

    I could work with that. Coming up with a few sums off the top of my head, I showed her another simple one, then added a few numbers together in the hundreds.

    Pausing there, I finally looked at her. Well, her eyes were narrowed, lips thin, but that was how she normally looked. At least, she didn¡¯t look upset.

    Maybe my second impression wasn¡¯t quite so bad.

 Ch. 14 First words

    Feeling good about how things had gone so far, I ¡°asked¡± her how she did multiplication, using her numbers and writing out: ¡°2 x 3 = 6¡±.

    She understood right away, drawing out the equation like for addition, but with a double line. Easy enough, I showed her I could multiply big numbers too. Well, uh, kind of big numbers.

    As I did, my mind flooded with bits of maths I remembered. How impressed she would be if she knew I knew algebra, trigonometry¡ªcalculus. Not much, but enough to write down.

    Just that those things all had letters and words and other symbols involved¡­.

    Slowing to a stop, reed still in the dirt, I swallowed my excitement. A deep breath, then I finished the equation.

    Why was I doing this? I didn¡¯t really know. I could come up with ideas, but the truth was I¡¯d just felt like I had to. I wanted to be close to her. It sounded funny when I put it like that, but that was kind of it. I didn¡¯t want to be alone. I wanted her to know how useful I was, wanted her to want me around. A friend.

    Those thoughts rattling around my head, the reed slipped out of my hand, clattering. Snapping out of it, I stared at the reed for a second and then quickly stood up. She looked up at me, eyebrows bunched, and the first thing that came to mind was to mime drinking and point at the spring.

    Before seeing her reaction, I rushed off. Needed a moment to collect myself.

    Head a mess, I was there, knelt down, cupped hands scooping up water. Bringing it to my mouth, I¡ªand she knocked my hands away. Caught so off-guard, I just stared for a long moment, refusing to believe what had happened, but it had. It had and now she strode over to her ¡°camp¡±, faster than I¡¯d seen her walk so far, where she took something out of her backpack and then strode back.

    A step away from me, she stopped and squatted down. The thing she¡¯d brought over was a metal cup. Empty, empty until her other hand came up, both hands around it, and a stream of water appeared out of thin air, filling the cup.

    Saying a word, she offered me the cup. Maybe the word meant ¡°here¡± or ¡°drink¡±, maybe something else, but I didn¡¯t remember it, sounds going in one ear and out the other. Even took me a second to realise she was offering the cup to me.

    ¡°Thank¡ª¡± I said, catching myself there, as I took the cup. Switched to a smile instead.

    She smiled back.

    I wasn¡¯t actually that thirsty, but I once again had to lie in the bed I¡¯d made and drank the whole cup. When I gave it back, she had a handkerchief in hand which she used to wipe the rim, maybe someone who worried about germs. Well, that would maybe explain why she didn¡¯t want my food.

    When it came to her, it felt like all I really had were maybes, but that probably wouldn¡¯t change any time soon. Maybe time to stop thinking about maybes.

    For now, we stayed like this. Close, but not too close, squatting down by the edge of the stream. The sound of flowing water, especially as it struggled through the rocks I used to keep the reeds from drifting off when I made threads. Leaves rustling in the wind, heart pounding in my chest, so loud when I swallowed.

    ¡°Um,¡± I said, the sound just slipping out.

    She turned to look at me. Trying to hold off the panic, I lowered my head and blindly followed the first idea I had.

    So I pointed at the stream. Glancing up, she looked confused. That made two of us. But then a thought came to me and I reached down, cupping one hand. Barely any water in my palm, I pointed at it, asking, ¡°Hyraj?¡±

    Maybe she understood, maybe she didn¡¯t. Either way, she said, ¡°Oult.¡±

    An easy word for once, I repeated it. ¡°Oult.¡±

    She smiled and said, ¡°Pris.¡±

    Did that mean ¡°yes¡±?

    I felt a headache tingling, probably for the best I drank that water. If only I had some painkillers too¡­.

    Regardless of how I felt after only learning two words, she decided I wanted to learn more. So I did. I mean, was I going to tell her acht? No way. Whatever she wanted to do, I¡¯d do it.

    That didn¡¯t mean I would be good at it.

    ¡°Hichjalt,¡± she said, aggressively pointing at what I¡¯d called a carrot. Her sharper tone might have had something to do with my failing to say it right after trying like ten times already. This language seemed to really care about throaty sounds and I could barely tell the difference, even when she emphasised them.

    Maybe getting bored of teaching me words, she sighed, then tried something else. She pointed at me, then at the carrot, then waited.

    Oh, there was something I wouldn¡¯t do. ¡°Acht,¡± I said, shaking my head.

    ¡°Louise,¡± she said, pointing at me, then pointed at the carrot.

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    But I refused. Maybe there was no harm in it, maybe I should have just gone along with her. She would probably learn English faster than I learned her language. I didn¡¯t want to waste her time, though. Didn¡¯t want to waste mine.

    So I said, ¡°Acht,¡± again.

    She pursed her lips and, for a moment, I worried I had ruined everything, that she would go back to her camp and ignore me. But she didn¡¯t. Thankfully, she didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Hich,¡± she said, slow and clear.

    We spent the rest of the day practising words, feeling painfully long. ¡°Yes¡± and ¡°no¡± stuck in my head easily enough, but the rest, well, I needed more time to stick them in. She sighed a lot, her thin lips very expressive despite how little they moved, or so I¡¯d learned.

    But I was happy. To talk to someone after months, even so little¡ªI felt like a person again. While the same routine, over and over, had keep me numb enough to keep going, Hyraj reminded me why people lived in villages and town and even cities. Why a plant needed the sun.

    I didn¡¯t think about it too much, not when she was still teaching me new words. However, the sky grew darker and the wind colder and, any moment now, I expected her to leave me for her camp.

    ¡°Hichjalt,¡± she said, the word both familiar and alien to me.

    Well, I didn¡¯t need to know what it was to repeat it. ¡°Hijchalt,¡± I said, hoping the extra confidence would cover up any mistakes.

    She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

    ¡°Hichjalt, grumkle,¡± she said and kept saying more, but I was still stuck on the first two.

    Did she really expect me to repeat them all? I hesitated, wondering if two would be enough to keep her from getting upset.

    Before I even spoke, she sighed again and then pointed at the rocky outcrop. Frowning, I tried to see what she was pointing at, belatedly realising she meant my larder. Still unsure what she meant, I looked at her and said, ¡°Yes?¡± in her language.

    Apparently waiting for that, she strode over and I followed, hard to keep up without jogging.

    Once there, she sort of gestured with her chin to the larder. I guessed she wanted to remind me of the names for foods¡ªah, hichjalt was carrot. Smiling over remembering that, I dutifully opened the larder for her. She was quite polite to not open it herself, I thought, already thinking she was raised well for her elegant handwriting and, well, general elegance.

    Made me all the more curious what she was doing out here by herself, but she was ready for it, her backpack full of useful things.

    On the other hand, my larder was just full of food. She glanced over it and started collecting some¡ªtwo of every vegetable, it looked like. Her arms full, she turned around and strode to the fire pit. I hesitated a moment, then shut the larder and followed her, jogging to catch up.

    She wasn¡¯t done. After putting the food down on my chair, she went over to her camp for something. A pot. It wasn¡¯t huge or even large, but a generous size for the one person she was. She had some other things in the pot too that I only saw once she put it down by the chair and took off the lid.

    Something about how she moved, I knew she didn¡¯t want me to interfere. Had helped in the kitchen enough to know. How she didn¡¯t glance at me, kept everything close to herself, focused.

    That was fine; I was mesmerised just following everything she did.

    First, she filled the pot with magic water, then she put on leather gloves¡ªa thin leather and a good fit, not at all clumsy with them on. Next, she washed the food one by one, using a cloth to scrub them and resting them on another cloth afterwards.

    Once finished, she emptied out the water and put some more in. Taking a trip to her backpack, she brought back four metal stakes which she stabbed into the middle of the fire pit, then balanced the pot on top.

    Guessing the next step, I broke from my trance enough to bring over some reeds. She didn¡¯t look upset when I offered them. ¡°Felsinneo,¡± she said, a softness to her voice that made me think it must mean ¡°thank you¡±.

    I smiled back.

    Her gaze slid down, unhurried, and she arranged the reeds under the pot, setting the last aflame with her magic, then placing it in a good spot to catch the rest. I would have done it differently, but didn¡¯t want to interfere. Her way was probably correct when using sticks and branches.

    Water set to heat, she put the lid on and then turned her attention back to the food. Or rather, the ingredients, a knife in hand. It was more like a small cleaver, the blunt side thick, and she used a piece of leather as a chopping board. The carrots went on, her knife came down, chopping them up into dice-sized cubes. The rest suffered similar fates, all cut to the same sort of size¡ªexcept the peas which were just removed from their pods.

    Pot not that full of water, it was already about to boil when she opened the lid and slid everything in. Again, I wasn¡¯t going to complain, but I could only think everything was going to end up a mushy mess.

    Of course, I would still happily eat it¡­.

    So long since I had seen a pot of water boil, I watched it, a bubble coming up here, a stream of tiny bubbles there. How funny it was that I could feel so envious over a metal pot. Maybe not this kind of stew, but idea after idea fluttered through my thoughts of what I could cook with it. Porridge, for starters, finally get a good use out of all the grain I kept.

    Lost in thought, idly stirring the pot with a large, metal spoon, other end wrapped in leather to hold, I didn¡¯t notice her go off, only noticed when she came back. Picking up her knife again, she had a large lump of something brown in her other hand. I stared for a moment, confused, almost like a piece of wood, a grain to it.

    Then I realised.

    ¡°Acht!¡± I said, lurching to my feet.

    Her swing faltered, coming to a stop atop the dried meat. She looked at me, not upset, but with a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

    ¡°Louise no,¡± I said in her language, pointing at the meat. ¡°Louise no.¡±

    Her face scrunched up for a moment, the first time I had seen her make such a confused expression, but she eventually put down the knife. Holding up the dried meat, she asked, ¡°Louise acht helvith?¡±

    I didn¡¯t know if that meant meat or maybe it was like pork and beef and meant a certain kind of meat. Regardless, I didn¡¯t want to eat it. Instinctual.

    ¡°Louise no meat,¡± I said, trying to copy her.

    No clue how well I did, but she understood. Taking it with her, she stood up and took it back to her backpack. I started to feel bad the moment she started walking. She was the cook, she was going to eat it too, it wasn¡¯t like I had never eaten meat before.

    But the more I beat myself up over it, the more I pictured that slab of meat and felt my stomach turn. If it wasn¡¯t a stew, I could have ignored her eating it¡­ but it was a stew.

    As much of a mess as I felt, she looked normal when she came back. Maybe vegetarians weren¡¯t unusual here¡­ or she was too polite.

    Nothing else came up for the rest of the cooking. She had metal bowls and spoons for us to use, not the fanciest, but I had spent a few weeks eating off a rock using my fingers, so wasn¡¯t really one to talk.

    And it tasted like vegetables that had been left in boiling water until they turned to mush along with a soup that tasted like, well, the water used to boil vegetables until they turned to mush. I didn¡¯t have the words to complain even if I had wanted to.

    The sun set, fire burning low, just the two of us in this world. I didn¡¯t know if she would still be here in the morning. At least for now, she was.

    At least for now.

 Ch. 15 Intensive learning

    I woke up at dawn, pushing myself up before the dreams had even faded. One breath, two, then everything that had happened yesterday flooded back to me. Crawling out, my heart pounded, not daring to hope she was still here, yet I couldn¡¯t imagine what I would do if she had already left.

    In such a rush, I shoved the door enough to send it clattering. Outside, I shot up, gaze snapping over to her camp.

    She wasn¡¯t there¡ªmy heart clenched¡ªbut her backpack was¡ªmy heart relaxed, albeit aching over that brief moment of, well, fright? I wasn¡¯t sure how else to describe it. Growing up like I did, I lacked a lot of words for expressing how I felt. No clue how to describe the sharp pain of thinking someone had left when you wanted them to stay. A fright seemed closest.

    At the orphanage, it had always been an ache. Adoptions weren¡¯t as sudden as waking up and they were gone, instead this slow period of knowing what was coming, then waking up one day to find it was finally time. You got to spend the day putting on a smile and congratulating them, telling them how happy you were for them. No matter how I felt, that was what I had to do, what I had always done.

    Lost in melancholic thoughts, a nearby crack snapped me out of it, turning to the sound. Like yesterday¡ªhow long ago yesterday felt¡ªit was Hyraj, emerging from the forest in her dark clothes, not quite as stained with dirt as yesterday. Different clothes.

    After so long wearing the same thing every day, I forgot people usually had more than one outfit.

    I raised my hand in a wave, already smiling. ¡°Hyraj!¡±

    She returned my wave in that odd way she had when greeting me yesterday, elbow bent and hand sticking up like a wave, but she didn¡¯t actually wave, holding it like a salute. ¡°Louise,¡± she said, clear voice cutting through the stream¡¯s trickling and distant birds twittering.

    I fought the urge to run over to her, awkwardly standing where I was with fidgeting hands. That was my goal from now on: think first. I didn¡¯t need to run over, so I didn¡¯t, letting her walk over.

    She didn¡¯t walk over to me, though. Went back to her camp.

    An uncomfortable feeling swirled around my chest, smile strained, but it wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d done anything wrong. Thinking it over more, I realised I probably felt like that because I had eaten a lot yesterday.

    I fretted for a moment over whether to excuse myself, but she hadn¡¯t told me she was leaving, not like we, well, had any connection. So I went off and did my business and that honestly did help me feel better.

    Coming back to the camp, I wondered if we would have breakfast together. Breakfast wasn¡¯t as serious as dinner. At least, I was pretty sure that was right. Maybe it was different here.

    Face scrunched up, I reminded myself to stop thinking like that. Did me no good.

    If I wasn¡¯t sure about breakfast¡­ if I wanted to have breakfast with her, I should ask. But I didn¡¯t want to make her cook again. Struggling over what to do, I arrived back at my camp and mindlessly walked to the larder out of habit.

    Fortunately, I had sort of come up with something by now, opening up the larder. Between thatching my room and making kindling, I had grown a lot of wheat. With how awkward it was to cook, I hadn¡¯t eaten much of it either, a reed basket full of kernels. One of the meals I had thought of after seeing her pot was porridge. A good breakfast food.

    So I picked up the basket, hands underneath to support the weight¡ªI didn¡¯t have that much faith in my weaving skills. Walking over to her, she noticed me almost right away. Good awareness.

    Once I was closer, I tried to say, ¡°Water,¡± in her language, hoping I remembered.

    Her lips pursed for a second before she replied, ¡°Oult?¡±

    ¡°Yes, water,¡± I said, hearing her say it refreshing my memory.

    Now her eyes narrowed and she rose to her feet. Her gaze fell to the basket, seeing what was inside. I presumed she knew what it was because it was one of the words she had taught me yesterday. I didn¡¯t remember the word, but I remembered she¡¯d taught it to me.

    Her expression still not easing up, I thought she might not understand, so put the basket down for now. Gesturing, I pretended to hit the kernels and then said, ¡°Water,¡± while pretending to stir them.

    That seemed to make some sense to her, the wrinkle between her brow flattening out. She squatted down and went into her backpack. Not just the pot, she took out the leather piece she¡¯d used as a cutting board and the knife that was like a small cleaver, as well as the large metal spoon with a leather grip that she had used to scoop out the stewed vegetables.

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    We walked over to the fire pit together. While she filled the pot, I brought over a bunch of reeds. She tried to take them from me, but I didn¡¯t let her, feeling braver since I had taken the initiative. So I laid out the reeds the way I thought was best and then rushed to prepare the wheat, leaving her to light it.

    If she had any complaints, she didn¡¯t tell me and I was too scared to look. Busied myself using the flat side of her knife to squash the kernels, picking out the seeds from the chaff, pretty quick from all the practice.

    By the time I finished, the water was boiling and so I poured in the seeds. It was at this point I realised I had no clue if this was how porridge was made. With oats, maybe it would work, but ¡°wheat¡±?

    I took in a deep breath and glanced at Hyraj. If I had done something stupid, at least she didn¡¯t seem to know either, staring at the pot, maybe curious.

    Not like I could take the seeds out, I just stirred. It looked bad at the start, but, after a minute or so, the seeds started to swell. A few minutes and it looked pretty much like porridge. Very runny, though, so I kept stirring and let more water boil off.

    Focused on that, I didn¡¯t notice when she¡¯d left to get us bowls and spoons. Seeing them there when I turned around, though, I smiled. It felt so nice to not be alone.

    I served up and we sat close, her using one of the rocks I¡¯d moved over to be a windbreak as a chair. Bowl hot, I rested it on my reed plate, while she had a folded cloth on her lap, using the corner of it to hold her bowl steady. She seemed comfortable with the arrangement, like she¡¯d eaten that way many times before.

    Again, I was left wondering how long she¡¯d been out here, blowing on my first spoon of porridge. Once I felt like it was cool enough, I tentatively tried it. Hot, but not burning hot, so I put in the whole spoon.

    It tasted like you¡¯d imagine porridge with no milk, sugar, butter, or even salt would taste. Almost like cardboard¡ªnot that I remembered ever eating paper or cardboard. Still, it was something new, hopefully with a lot of vitamins and minerals and carbs.

    Afterwards, she insisted on cleaning up. That was fair since, last night, I had taken on the job. Most things metal, she rinsed them in the stream water and then used fire magic to sterilise them. At least, I guessed that was what she was doing, no reason I could think of otherwise. Guess I was lucky I hadn¡¯t been sick yet.

    Such a slow, comfortable start to the day, something so nice about sharing a meal with someone¡­ that I had forgotten entirely what would be coming next.

    ¡°Unt felpouns orst Hyraj,¡± she said, pointing at herself, then said something similar-but-different while pointing at me, obviously swapping my name for hers.

    Vocabulary was bad enough, but grammar too? She repeated it a couple times and, my mind spinning, I guessed it meant something like: ¡°My name is.¡± It could have also been, ¡°Is name my,¡± though? Learning French had taught me that other languages could be very different.

    Still, I wasn¡¯t going to get anywhere if I spent all day doubting myself. ¡°Unt felpouns orst Louise,¡± I said, thankful there weren¡¯t any throaty sounds.

    She clapped¡­ like I was a child. What was worse was that I actually did feel proud of myself.

    Once she started testing me on the words she¡¯d taught me yesterday, that pride shrivelled up. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, she gave me a long look that made my heart pound, feeling oh so very judged. In the end, she let out a sigh and stood up.

    ¡°Reeds?¡± she asked, that one of the easier words that had sunk in.

    ¡°Reeds,¡± I said back to her.

    ¡°No,¡± she said, then said another word, one I hadn¡¯t heard before. It took a gesture from her where she was pointing at the stream for me to realise that word probably meant ¡°where¡±.

    Pointing, I said, ¡°Where reeds,¡± and set off walking¡ªshe had probably asked for a reason. Sure enough, she inspected my reed farm once we got there. When she went to draw her sword, though, I had to stop her: ¡°No.¡±

    She was a good listener, keeping her sword at her side as she turned to me.

    I picked out a group of them that had grown seeds and sort of gestured at them for her. She caught on, taking her sword to them. A very sharp sword. Like they were made of jelly, her sword cut right through, no swing, no sawing, just a slide as she pushed it forwards. Six reeds fell to the ground from that. Another slide and more fell, and more, making a pile about as big as what we¡¯d used, which was maybe why she stopped there.

    A lot faster than using a rock.

    Whether she wanted to ¡°make up¡± for what she¡¯d used or she was curious about my life here, she asked me where other things were, so I showed her my other farms, the inside of my home, where fruit trees grew around here¡ªincluding the ones I¡¯d planted to make an orchard.

    As we went around, she kept drilling the vocabulary into me. Rather than settle with once or twice like yesterday, she made me repeat every word at least ten times, more if I fumbled. Not that I had a problem with that. If anything, it was exactly what I needed and would have done if I had a textbook or dictionary for it.

    Still hard, though, my head a mess by lunchtime. The situation only grew more dire after eating: she decided I could learn to read too.

    Her book had a small print, but the characters were clear enough, black ink with a hint of maroon when it caught the light, and I was relieved that a lot of the letters looked the same. It wasn¡¯t like Chinese with thousands of complicated symbols.

    The way she taught me these letters, they each had their own sound. I guessed there would probably be more complicated stuff once we were done with the alphabet¡ªlike ¡°ch¡±, for starters. To my surprise, that didn¡¯t seem the case? There were more letters than in English and that included the throaty sounds. The words she read to me were all, well, written as they were spoken. ¡°Acht¡± was made up of the letters ¡°a¡±, ¡°ch¡±, ¡°t¡±.

    It wasn¡¯t easy to remember everything so quickly, but she was patient with me, at first reminding me of the letters when I hesitated, then more coaxing, pointing at words I knew to help me remember myself.

    My days had felt so long before, dragging out my routine to keep me away from my thoughts. Now, the day still felt so long, hours lasting forever as we sat beneath the tree, side by side, softly speaking as the wind whistled, leaves rustled, the stream flowing.

    Such a long day, but I wouldn¡¯t hate many more like it.

 Ch. 16 Getting to know each other

    One day after another, Hyraj relentlessly taught me. Not that I tried to run away or anything, but, whenever I thought we were having a break, she would come up with some word or phrase for me to memorise. The only peace I had around her was eating our meals.

    Oh, we were both so stubborn over cooking. Like it was a game. She wouldn¡¯t let me help prepare when she cooked, so I didn¡¯t let her help me, childish how I leant over the cutting board like she wasn¡¯t even allowed to look.

    How fun being childish was¡ªno wonder children did it so much.

    I wished I could say the first dinner was a one-off, but she had, um, a pragmatic view of cooking? Or rather, a fear of germs that seemed like OCD to me. I wasn¡¯t a doctor, though, so probably not, and someone travelling alone in deserted forests probably should have been afraid of getting sick.

    That said, vegetables didn¡¯t need to be boiled into mush or burnt into charcoal over the fire to make them safe to eat. I tried to teach her that, but she seemed to have no issue eating her own cooking. Well, she at least ate the stuff I cooked, so I only had to suffer her dinners every other day.

    A week passed, more and more words sticking in my head and the basic grammar she taught me easy to follow. Close enough to English grammar for most things. The only part that kept tripping me up was how ¡°double negatives¡± didn¡¯t become positives, like: ¡°I don¡¯t not eat meat,¡± which meant, ¡°I really don¡¯t eat meat.¡± Anyway, she liked to use them a lot and I often misunderstood.

    Other than that, I could kind of talk with her, basic things. Ask, ¡°How are you?¡± and answer, ¡°I¡¯m hungry,¡± or, ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡± Stuff about our life here. At least, that was the stuff that stuck in my head.

    It was hard, but it was easy, silly as that sounds. There weren¡¯t tests or homework or detentions, I just had to remember. However long it took, however many times I forgot the same word, I just had to memorise it again and again until I didn¡¯t forget it.

    For some people, that would probably be like torture. For me, well, it was perfect.

    Idle thoughts while I washed my clothes, Hyraj taking some time to read. I had asked her if she wanted to wash clothes together, but apparently not, walking off as soon as I¡¯d finished speaking.

    Just that¡ªlooking up at the sky¡ªthere probably wouldn¡¯t be time afterwards for her. Dark clouds loomed, wind picking up. I scrubbed my legs as fast as I could, eager to dry off by the fire before the rain started, snug inside my home.

    That left me feeling guilty, gaze drifting over to Hyraj. She had a straw duvet thing she used for a mattress and a woolly blanket to keep her warm, but that could only do so much. A light rain had passed over a few days ago and she had stuck under her tree. I worried that she¡¯d do the same, even if there was lightning. Even if there wasn¡¯t, none of the trees around here were big enough to keep her dry, wind might even steal her blanket while she slept.

    For now, all I could do was rush. Worry about myself.

    I sat by the fire with my underwear, trousers, and vest, drying those first. My trousers took longer, but the rest dried fairly quick, thin as they were. So I was half-dressed when the first drops fell. While it was only spitting, I stayed by the fire, trying not to flinch every time a cold drop fell on my legs or head. Eventually, it grew to a drizzle; that was when I put on my trousers and covered the fire and headed into my home.

    Before I closed the door, I took a last look at Hyraj. She still sat beneath the tree, back to its trunk, backpack next to her, book in hand. I hoped the rain would stay gentle.

    It did not.

    Curled up on my jumper, I listened to the wind howl, thatched roof rustling, fortunately well strapped down from my previous experiences with stormy weather. Rain pounded down, drumming so loud, bleeding through my door when the wind blew it that way. I thought I would probably need to build up the outside wall again after this, no doubt being eroded right now.

    Those kinds of thoughts could only distract me from thinking about Hyraj for so long.

    She hated help, I knew. She hated me trying to help her cook, she had hated me trying to fix the braiding she tried, had refused to let me touch her reed weaving. I couldn¡¯t even stoke the fire while she was busy preparing the ingredients without her glancing at me with a scowl.

    That didn¡¯t mean it was easy for me to ignore my desire to help her. I wanted to so badly, so used to fussing over the younger girls, while the older girls acted just like her and hated being treated like children.

    Right now, I just wanted her to be safe. Not that the rain would kill her, but there was more to being safe than whether or not you died, and she wasn¡¯t safe. Tense, no sleep, cold, all until the wind died down and rain stopped.

    It ate at me. I couldn¡¯t relax, constantly fidgeting like my body was trying to go help her. Heart pounding, aching, not used to watching people suffer and doing nothing.

    Finally, I gave in. Just a peek, I thought, crawling to the door. Weaving pushed down, I squinted out the gap. The wind blew, rain like a waterfall, so thick I could barely see a thing. But the things I could see were enough: her under the tree, curled up, corner of her blanket flapping, ponytail whipping around.

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    Thump, thump, heart so tight every heartbeat was a struggle. I began to feel sick, stomach clenching too. Every single part of my body beyond upset at seeing her like that while I was safe inside.

    It hurt.

    I couldn¡¯t take it, I couldn¡¯t, and I couldn¡¯t go back and close my eyes and pretend I hadn¡¯t seen anything. Fumbling the knots, I untied part of the door¡ªnot my first experience with storms. Not even a whole side, just enough for me to squeeze out.

    The rain hit me immediately, icy cold, stinging, a constant stream of pain across my arms. As I shuffled the rest of me out, it only hurt more, eyes clenched shut in a constant wince, the drumming on my head making it nearly impossible to open them.

    But I had to, so I did. Blinking all the way, moving as much by memory as sight, I staggered across my camp to her tree.

    For once, she didn¡¯t notice me. I knew because she jumped when I touched her, her eyes shooting open, even wider than usual, watery. Who knew if there were tears on her face, damp with bits of rain.

    None of that mattered. I grabbed her hand and pulled. An ice-cold hand. She didn¡¯t move, so I pulled harder, pulled with all my strength, all my weight, shifted her, and my pulling dragged her over onto her hands and knees, yet she still fought me, clutching her backpack and blanket, stuck there.

    So damn stubborn.

    There were tears on my face, tears I¡¯d started crying before even leaving my home and tears I was crying right this second. She stared at me and I stared at her. Every word I wanted to scream at her were English words, mind a mess, but a word from her language soon came to me. Not the perfect word, maybe not even a good one.

    I pointed at her, then at my heart, and I said, ¡°Pain.¡± Shouted it, loud enough for her to hear over the bellowing wind.

    Maybe she understood, maybe it was the pain in my voice she heard, but she gave up, stood up. Holding her hand, I dragged her through the rain, practically shoved her through the hole I¡¯d opened up into my home before wriggling in myself.

    Just from my short adventure, the straw had been blown around inside, I was soaked, so cold I shivered. But one look at her and I didn¡¯t feel so cold any more, poor thing white as a sheet. Probably. It was hard to tell in the room¡¯s gloom, I just knew how cold her hand felt when I¡¯d grabbed it.

    My heart still raced, breaths too, but looking after someone was natural for me, my mind clear as it pulled together the stray words I knew.

    ¡°Hyraj no water clothes,¡± I said, pointing at her backpack.

    ¡°What?¡± she said, voice strained as it fought against the noise outside.

    Pointing at her this time, I said, ¡°Water clothes up, no water clothes.¡±

    It took her longer than usual to catch on. Opening her backpack, she took out some clothes, but didn¡¯t start changing.

    ¡°Louise look at the door,¡± she said¡ªI guessed she said, only recognising: ¡°Louse look door¡±.

    I wondered why until I realised she was shy. Nothing new to me, most of the girls at the orphanage getting like that as they grew older. So I turned to the door and listened to the howling wind and drumming rain and the muffled rustling of clothes.

    Eventually, she said, ¡°Louise look me.¡±

    So I turned to her, smiling.

    ¡°Louise pain where?¡± she asked, face scrunched up and lips pursed.

    I was confused, then it clicked: she thought I was hurt? That was why I went to get her, that was why she came with me?

    It almost made me laugh, but I didn¡¯t, trying to find the words to express the complicated way I had felt. Something I could barely put into words for myself in my native language.

    ¡°Louise see cold Hyraj, Louise pain here,¡± I said, pointing at my heart. Had to say it fairly loud, our voices easily lost to the noise coming from outside. And my hand trembled as much from emotion as from the cold. So recent, my body still remembered the ache.

    She went to speak only to stop herself. After a few seconds of silence, she pointed at the floor next to her and said, ¡°Louise here.¡±

    I thought she was asking me if I lived here or something, but that sounded so stupid.

    Only when she added to it, saying, ¡°Louise here now,¡± did I understand.

    Still confused, but I shuffled over and sat next to her. Before I could ask why, she answered, draping her blanket around the both of us, pulling me closer as she pulled it tight.

    For a while, we said nothing, wind howling and rain drumming and my heart thumping in my chest. Even though the excitement was over, I couldn¡¯t calm down.

    Then she spoke and my whole body stilled to listen. ¡°Hyraj no cold now, Louise no pain, okay?¡±

    As if listening to her, my heartbeats softened. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Although the wind eventually died down, the rain never did, both of us nestled in my room as we ate fruit¡ªshe still wouldn¡¯t try the sprouts¡ªand some of her rations, a dry, dirt-like bread how it crumbled in my mouth.

    And we talked. Rather than teach me words to do with our everyday life, she struggled and sighed and came up with creative ways to teach me words like ¡°mother¡± and ¡°magic¡± and even ¡°childish¡±. However, the story she told with those words wasn¡¯t a pleasant one, if only for the tone of her voice, fragile. I had never heard her sound fragile before.

    I still couldn¡¯t follow everything she said. What I gathered was that her parents were unhappy with her for some reason and called it childish, maybe meaning something she would grow out of? Anyway, because of that, she left. Months ago it seemed.

    I had shown her my calendar and she had drawn up theirs, something like five seasons of three months of twenty-four days? It almost came up to the same number of days in a year that I was used to, but I hadn¡¯t checked the total, not every month the same length.

    Well, in her story, she had left and apparently camped in forests and sometimes bought more rations. Whatever else she said she had done, I couldn¡¯t understand, by now her teaching side lost to her monologue.

    As for me, all I could really get across to her was that I had no parents. ¡°Parents¡­ die?¡± she asked, sounding so sincere.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Parents¡­ far?¡± she asked.

    Fighting back the smile, I said, ¡°No.¡±

    It took a while for her to exhaust all the other possibilities and come to a conclusion that she said with the deepest sadness to her voice: ¡°Parents no want Louise?¡±

    I could finally say, ¡°Yes. Parents no not-want Louise,¡± using that double-negative quirk to really make sure she understood.

    Silence followed, her face stuck with a pout and a wrinkle on her brow. Eventually, she asked, ¡°Louise sad?¡±

    ¡°Louise no sad. Louise small small, Louise seed,¡± I said, thinking seed was a good substitute for baby.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she muttered. A phrase that was in her book a lot, apparently something people often said.

    The rain drummed and we talked, wrapped in her blanket, warmer than I had ever felt since coming here. Perhaps since ever.

 Ch. 17 A magic touch

    After that stormy day together in my room, it was like nothing had changed, but ¡°like nothing¡± didn¡¯t mean ¡°nothing¡±. She still insisted on sleeping under the tree and wouldn¡¯t let me help her cook and bombarded me with words to learn. However, the stubbornness she had carried around before eased up. It was hard to put into words, more like a feeling, how I felt around her. I didn¡¯t feel¡­ unwelcome. Like it was okay for me to sit next to her when we ate or walk beside her when we went around.

    Whatever the change, our daily life stayed the same. We woke up and dealt with nature¡¯s call, I brushed my teeth with ash while she had some kind of paste and toothbrush, then she taught me words all day, breaks for meals. More and more words, grammar, dragged into the swamp that was tenses and how sentences were different for first-person and so on.

    As nice as the language had been to learn so far, it turned out that verbs were different depending on gender: one for not-people, one for men, one for women, and a polite one that you used if you didn¡¯t know the person. At least, that was how I understood it and she hadn¡¯t corrected me when using it like that. Having learned some French before, I found some comfort in objects and animals not being gendered.

    Although I wasn¡¯t the fastest learner, I honestly tried. The more that actually stuck in my head, the easier it was to stick more in, sticking them together. Remembering a table with all the different tenses of verbs was difficult, but I could remember a few sentences easily enough. ¡°I was hungry, I am hungry, I will be hungry.¡± That sort of thing.

    That she taught me all around the camp and the nearby forest, sometimes I remembered where I learned something more than I remembered what I learned. The sound of the stream when I¡¯d learned ¡°where¡± or the warm sunset when I¡¯d learned ¡°moon¡±. Some words, I remembered her lips, how they moved when saying the word, like ¡°family¡±. A beautiful word that started and ended with a smile.

    For all I learned, I wasn¡¯t much good at speaking it. Listening or reading, I could understand the verbs easily enough, but always messed up which one to use when I had to choose.

    Still, it was already enough that¡­ if she left¡­ I could find a village and actually talk to the people there. Not very well, but I wouldn¡¯t be some crazy woman speaking in tongues. So I was thankful to her for that. Thankful for her company, thankful for her letting me borrow some of her things to cook, thankful for the meals she cooked for me.

    I hoped I had the words to tell her that before she eventually did decide to move on. Until she did, I dared not even try to ask her, afraid the only thing keeping her here was that she had forgotten to carry on travelling.

    So we went, day by day, another week, two passing¡ªher weeks with only six days. In her calendar, it was the twenty-first day of the fourth month¡­ she thought. Without a tree to keep a tally on, she wasn¡¯t sure if she had missed a day or counted twice since leaving the last village.

    An interesting thing, her way of tallying was to make a square with one diagonal; for days, you could do a second diagonal: a square with an x inside. I started doing it like that too.

    Overwhelmed at the start, lots of interesting things had slipped past me. Well, interesting was pushing it, but things. The forks she had were three-pronged; when I noticed, I thought it was because she was travelling, but I asked her and she told me this was normal, only some forks with four for certain foods. To keep her hair in a ponytail, she had a hair clip that was like a bow¡ªan archery bow. She pulled back the ¡°string¡± and slipped her hair through, then it sprung back and clamped her hair in place.

    A similar world, yet vastly different. That was without considering magic or those jelly creatures.

    Something similar I was happy to find was that the people here also celebrated birthdays. ¡°In the first month, on the twelfth day, nineteen years ago,¡± Hyraj said.

    It took me a while to give mine, easier once I remembered I had already worked out Hatty¡¯s birthday, so I just had to count from there. ¡°Thirteen month, twenty-five day,¡± I said, rubbing my forehead. ¡°Ah, eighteen year ago.¡±

    ¡°Eighteen¡­¡± she muttered, lips pursed for a moment before our eyes met and she relaxed. It looked like she had something to say, but didn¡¯t say it. Maybe something I couldn¡¯t understand yet.

    The conversation my innocent question had started already at an end, we fell into silence, which was unusual for the morning. Some evenings, she seemed to take pity on me and would read her book alone until dinnertime. Otherwise, well, she had endless patience for teaching me.

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    But now there was silence. Not uncomfortable, but unnerving. I wondered if I had reminded her of her family and upset her.

    It did me no good to overthink these things, so I focused on the weaving. However, I only pulled one flattened reed through before she stopped me, her hand touching mine when I went to get the next reed. Looking up at her, she had a smile. Well, as close to a smile as she gave, more in her eyes than her mouth.

    ¡°This,¡± she said, pulling back her hand, fingertips sliding across my hand and feeling hot as they did. Distracted by that, I was slow to copy her as she made a loop with her thumbs and forefingers, something I had seen her do before when casting magic.

    Excited by that, I kept glancing between my hands and hers, trying to get each of my fingers into the exact same position as hers.

    One second passed, two¡­. I knew it wouldn¡¯t be easy to explain, but, if she didn¡¯t know how, why did she choose now? Seconds after seconds trickling past until she finally spoke.

    But all she said was, ¡°This,¡± and started moving her fingers.

    Focusing again, I watched and tried to copy. Her thumbs and forefingers slid along, overlapping, shrinking the circle in the middle, so that was what I did. Slow and steady, just about everything she did unhurried. Slowly, curling my fingers when my hands couldn¡¯t move any closer, hole the size of a coin and¡ªI couldn¡¯t curl my fingers any more?

    Looking at her, she also still had a circle. Our gazes met as I glanced up and she showed me that smile again.

    ¡°Squeeze, squash,¡± she said, her words simpler for me when it wasn¡¯t a language lesson.

    I didn¡¯t know what I was squashing. It reminded me of, like, a trick. That there was something about my body that meant I couldn¡¯t curl my fingers all the way when my hands were in this position.

    But she hadn¡¯t tricked or teased me before, so I kept trying. It wasn¡¯t like there was something hard in the way and, when I tensed, the circle did shrink, it just pushed back when I stopped tensing. So I took in a deep breath and tried, strained, whole body tense as I put my all into it.

    Smaller, growing smaller and smaller, just a pea-sized hole and¡ª

    It popped, loud and sharp, like a gunshot with the TV turned low, giving me such a fright I jumped back, throwing my hands apart. Took me a second to realise my eyes were closed. Opening them, I stared down at where my hands had been and there, swirling in an unfelt breeze, was like a mist, glittering every colour imaginable¡ªand probably colours that couldn¡¯t be imagined¡ªas the sun filtered through it.

    Then it left, not blown away, but melting as if it was fog or ice crystals hanging in the air.

    Once the last trace of it was gone, I felt a rush of excitement, giddy, immediately looking at Hyraj with a smile so wide it hurt. ¡°Magic!¡± I said.

    She let out a sigh, her head tilted to the side, then she said, ¡°Magic.¡±

    I wanted to do it again, so used to learning things by repetition, but I caught myself and waited for her teaching. Waited, waiting as the seconds passed.

    ¡°This,¡± she said, holding just one hand out in a half-circle.

    Frowning, I copied her. She wasted no time and brought her hand to mine, making one circle between both of us, and I felt a tingle. Such a tiny feeling, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was imagining it.

    The next moment, I didn¡¯t have the luxury to think about it, a flame appearing in the circle our hands made. Small, barely feeling the heat, but a real fire¡ªno, a magical fire. It didn¡¯t burn in ambers and crimsons or even the ghostly blue of a gas flame, kind of shimmered like that magic fog.

    That confused me since, well, I had seen her make fire that looked like real fire, only difference that it didn¡¯t leave soot or ash behind.

    After a few seconds, the flame disappeared as suddenly as it came. ¡°How magic feel?¡± she asked, pulling back her hand and breaking the circle.

    Confused, I said, ¡°Hot?¡±

    She sighed again, this time more exasperated. ¡°This,¡± she said, her hand coming back.

    Focused this time, I felt the tingle when our forefingers and thumbs touched. Tried to follow it. Almost electric, a buzz, running a little deeper than my skin, and it grew as the magic flame appeared again. Ignoring the heat, closed my eyes to keep my focus on this feeling.

    ¡°Metal,¡± I said, the best word I knew for it, yet it probably sounded stupid without knowing about electricity and wires.

    ¡°Metal?¡± she muttered.

    I wished I knew the word for tingle or buzz or anything close. ¡°Hot and cold and circle,¡± I said, still doing my best with what little I had.

    ¡°That it is?¡±

    Smiling, I couldn¡¯t think of a better answer she could have given.

    We did it a few more times, Hyraj very aware how best to teach me by now, and then she moved on to the water magic. Again, it was different, not making a stream of falling water, but a ball of magic water that glittered, the way it seemed to move like there were tiny waves travelling across it.

    The strange sensation running through my forefinger and thumb was similar. A tingle, a buzz, so similar that I couldn¡¯t tell a difference. Maybe there wasn¡¯t even supposed to be one.

    ¡°How magic feel?¡± she asked.

    I didn¡¯t know the word for ¡°same¡±, so just said the same thing: ¡°Metal. Hot and cold and circle.¡±

    She stared at me, her eyes a little narrowed and lips a little thin. How she normally looked. But, right now, we were so close, just a step away from each other, her eyes so big. I had forgotten how pretty they were, like a tropical sea circled her pupil.

    Breaking me out of my daze, she squeezed my hand, held it. ¡°Louise magic, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, not sure how else to answer that question.

    However, there was something funny about how she¡¯d said it: I was magic.

 Ch. 18 More to magic

    After introducing me to magic, Hyraj didn¡¯t let up on teaching me her language. If anything, she worked me harder, making time to do more of those magic exercises. There was the first one where we touched fingertips and another one where I made a ring with both hands and she did the same, putting her hands on top of mine.

    With the second one, she would summon the magic fire or water, then take her hands away and the magic would linger for a bit before fading. I felt it more this way. A buzzing, a kind of spinning, like there were millions of tiny whirlpools, a bit like when you sat funny and your leg started to prickle.

    There was also a¡­ pressure? Like how I¡¯d ¡°popped¡± the magic the first time, when she took away her hand, I felt the magic push against me and try to break the ring. Surreal. Magnets repelling each other, or leaning into the wind on a blustery day.

    Three days of practising that and she gave me the next step.

    Her hands felt so warm against mine, hotter than the magic flame flickering in the centre of the ring, then she eased away, leaving just that ball of fire. ¡°Little squeeze,¡± she whispered.

    Not expecting her to speak, it took me a second to understand what she¡¯d said. So I started bringing my thumbs and forefingers closer, ring squashing into an oval, and¡ª

    ¡°No. First this,¡± she said and, glancing over, I saw she had forefingers and thumbs overlapping, sliding them back and forth to make the ring bigger and smaller.

    Another second for me to understand, then I copied her. The ¡°pinching¡± had been easy, like the magic was clay, but this felt impossible. I managed a little before it just wouldn¡¯t go any more. If I let up at all, it pushed me back beyond the starting point, still trying to break the ring.

    So I strained, arms and shoulders tense as I tried to use my whole body for it. Too focused on myself to care about the magic. My lungs burned, unconsciously holding my breath, heart pounding, loud in my ears. Maybe I closed my eyes, maybe I concentrated so much I couldn¡¯t see.

    And I finally broke, hands jerking apart as I gulped in breath after breath, my whole body trembling as if it didn¡¯t know what to do now it wasn¡¯t tensed up. Between blinks, I watched the magic fire fizzle away.

    After a long few seconds to recover, I turned to her, unsure what expression I would see. Maybe I disappointed her, maybe that was supposed to happen. I didn¡¯t know. Her face told me nothing, though. A blank expression and a gaze that lingered on my hands.

    ¡°Louise did okay?¡± I quietly asked.

    She broke from her stare and, unhurried, her gaze came up to look me in the eye. ¡°Louise did okay,¡± she said.

    A weight off my shoulders, my heart beat easier, apparently more tense over this than I¡¯d realised.

    ¡°Louise see magic?¡± she asked.

    Relieved too soon, I froze up, trying to remember if I had and only drawing a blank.

    That silence all the answer she needed, she said, ¡°Again,¡± and raised her hands.

    I scrunched up my face, trying to clear my mind and not really succeeding. Didn¡¯t want to keep her waiting, though, so gave up, raising my hands.

    We both made rings and she summoned the magic fire again, leaving it with me as she stepped back. Again, I felt the buzz, felt the push. Again, I slid my hands closer, shrinking the ring, only managing a little before it pushed back enough to stop me.

    But I didn¡¯t lose myself in trying to push.

    A deep breath, then I tried to squeeze the ring with just my arms. Not much happened, barely made it smaller, but I watched the magic. It flickered and flared, not quite there, like a trick of the eye how it caught the light, sort of reminding me of how the air wobbled above radiators and heaters.

    Still, I kept pushing, arms beginning to ache. They hadn¡¯t exactly had time to rest up. Maybe my imagination, the magic seemed to flicker more. A fiery thread trapped in a swirling vortex of air. It danced and twisted and wrapped around itself, going through hot hues, sometimes barely visible amongst the writhing magic, but always there.

    The longer I held, even without pushing in, the thicker that thread grew. At first as thin as sewing thread and, at the end¡ªwhen my arms couldn¡¯t take it, falling down¡ªit was about as thick as a worm.

    I had no clue if that had happened last time, but I saw it happen this time.

    ¡°Louise see magic?¡± Hyraj asked.

    ¡°Louise see magic,¡± I whispered, watching the ¡°worm¡± of magic fade away.

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    Maybe taking into consideration how tired my arms were, she ended the lesson there. Of course, she had another lesson lined up, making me practise the different tenses and genders of ¡°see¡± until I couldn¡¯t see straight.

    It didn¡¯t help that my mind was full of thoughts about the magic thread. As much as I tried to focus, I ended up wondering what it meant, what it was. Even without the thread, the magic fire had felt hot, so was the thread actually not fire magic? If she made magic water, would the thread come out blue? Was the rest of the magic made of threads as well and I just couldn¡¯t see them?

    Hyraj sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Let us eat,¡± she said, striding off.

    Lost in thought, it took me a moment to jog after her. ¡°Ah, sorry, sorry,¡± I said, thinking I had upset her. She was trying so hard and I had messed up so much¡­.

    She didn¡¯t stop or even slow, her long legs making it hard for me to keep up. I really must have annoyed her this time for her to not be unhurried. What made it worse was that it was her day to cook, so I could only bring over reeds for her.

    Worse still, magic still filled my mind, my gaze fixated on her hand as she picked up the reed to ignite it. I understood what happened better now. Guessed that, making a ring with her fingers, she summoned a magic fire inside the reed, making it hot enough to catch fire. Or maybe she summoned real fire and it caught on the reed.

    A buzz in the air, so slight I swore I imagined it, then fire burst out from the end of the reed, crackling, her hand sliding down before it burned her. Pot over the fire, she made a ring with both hands¡ªbuzzing¡ªand water poured out. Real water, not the magic water she¡¯d made for me to ¡°hold¡±.

    I had to wonder if I really felt that buzz or I just wanted to. Our days so busy, I hadn¡¯t really thought about why she was teaching me magic, why I wanted to learn it.

    Well, it was certainly useful. Being able to start a fire so quickly without tools was definitely something I wanted to learn. And being able to make water¡ªI wouldn¡¯t have to live by the spring or a river. There was probably more that magic could do, stuff that she either hadn¡¯t needed to use yet or didn¡¯t want to show me or couldn¡¯t do herself. Magic to make wind or ice or even more fantastical things like clay and metal. There probably were a bunch of rules I didn¡¯t know, but steel wasn¡¯t really any more complicated than water.

    Back when the accident happened and I spoke to the goddess¡­ I hadn¡¯t realised what I was getting into. How hard every day would be. Maybe she didn¡¯t know either, expecting me to go find a village. It didn¡¯t really matter what either of us expected. This was my new life, this magic what I wanted to learn. I wanted to make my life easier.

    But it was also¡­ I wanted to make Hyraj proud. Or maybe happy fit better. I just didn¡¯t want her to feel like she was wasting her time, that I was messing around. Because I was trying my hardest and I appreciated her effort so much. That she wanted to teach me this, I wanted to learn it.

    Part of me worried I only felt like this because I was so lonely. It wasn¡¯t really, like, healthy that I woke up every morning scared she had left, that I felt so pressured to do my best, pushing through any headaches, ignoring how exhausted my brain felt at the end of every day.

    But it was hard to think about because this was good for me. I didn¡¯t want to break my motivation, every day making it easier for me to eventually ¡°join society¡±. If I knew she was going to stay here for a year, or even just a month, I could relax, but I didn¡¯t know when she would leave and didn¡¯t dare ask.

    The fire burned, water boiled, and she stirred the vegetables.

    If I ignored everything else, I loved this moment. It was like we were family. If she would let me help, it would have been even better, but you couldn¡¯t have everything you wanted. Still, I loved this. Something I had always known I would never have, something I never dared to dream of having. This moment of peace as someone cooked something for us to eat together.

    The children at the orphanage had been my family, but it had been a loud and rowdy family, full of bickering and fights, not always love. There were too many of us with very different personalities and, well, very big problems. A broken family, held together by the pain we all shared at having to call that place our home. That we had nowhere else and no one else.

    Right now, Hyraj and I were here because we wanted to be. Chose to be.

    That was probably why I was willing to do whatever she asked me, why I worked so hard. Desperate for these moments. Desperate.

    Smiling to myself, I had to admit that no word suited me better. All my life, I had been so very desperate, never knowing what for. Desperate for praise, desperate to avoid being told off, desperate to be needed. Now, desperate to not be alone.

    Yes, we had been a broken family of broken people, including me.

    Soon enough, dinner was served. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, trying to keep my weird mood out of my voice.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± she said.

    What had been my stone chair was now a stone bench, the two of us side by side, a small gap between us. She didn¡¯t have to sit next to me, but she did. I ate the food she cooked out of the bowl she shared, spoonful by spoonful, the mushy texture and bland taste sweeter tonight than any day before.

    ¡°Louise hungry today?¡± she asked, laughter in her voice.

    ¡°No, Hyraj good food,¡± I said, turning to her with a smile.

    She stared for a moment, apparently not prepared for that response, then she smiled back. A smile that barely touched her lips, but showed in her eyes. ¡°Louise good girl.¡±

    I ducked my head, overcome with shyness at those words. Still as desperate for praise as I ever was. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. Nothing else I could think to say.

    Only a little left to eat, I finished up and realised why she¡¯d said what she had, her bowl still half full. Stuck between keeping her company and getting started on washing up, I chose to wait.

    As I did, I hummed, my messy thoughts of the past bringing me back. No one had ever sung lullabies for me, so I didn¡¯t know a better one than twinkle twinkle little star. The stream trickled, her spoon clinked, fire crackled, wind whistled, leaves rustled, and I hummed.

    After finishing a loop, about to start again, she said, ¡°That¡¯s a beautiful song.¡±

    I burst out laughing, the sort of thing I would have never heard in my old world. All the gloom wiped away, blinking back such happy tears, smiling so wide it hurt.

    ¡°Did I say something wrong?¡± she asked¡ªI guessed she asked, only understanding half. Even before, I just guessed she called the song beautiful, couldn¡¯t imagine she was complimenting my voice.

    ¡°No, Hyraj not wrong. Beautiful sound,¡± I said, using what words came to mind.

    Silence for a long moment, the funniness fading away, then she asked, ¡°Again, please.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, and then I hummed.

    I was broken and maybe she was too. It didn¡¯t matter. For now, this family I pretended we were was enough.

 Ch. 19 What magic is

    The next day, after going through the chores and language lessons, Hyraj sat me down by the stream.

    I felt more settled today. My mood had always been like a wave, building up and then crashing down. Thought it was hormones; at least, that was what, like, the world said. Jokes, headlines, teachers. But I was still like this even without my period.

    Anyway, yesterday¡¯s emotions now felt distant. Those feelings that had felt overwhelming now a sigh. Whatever happened, life carried on. I just needed to keep walking forwards.

    The stream flowed and gurgled, loud so close. A quiet loud. Unless there was heavy rain, nothing out here really needed to be talked over. A normal voice would do.

    ¡°Magic is threads,¡± she said.

    I nodded by instinct, but that wasn¡¯t a gesture she knew. Well, it was now because I had done it so much, in her culture a rude thing to move your head when talking or being talked to. She hadn¡¯t told me much, only to tilt my head forward if I ever met someone important.

    ¡°When you squeeze, the threads join,¡± she said; I knew enough to make sense of that, but what she said next was gibberish to me. Words I didn¡¯t know.

    She looked over, a sigh slipping out.

    ¡°When the threads join¡­ magic becomes not magic,¡± she said, a little slower and louder.

    I thought over what ¡°not magic¡± meant and guessed it meant real. Because that thread had been different, I just didn¡¯t know how. Well, that was what this lesson was for, right?

    ¡°Magic like dream, not magic like rock?¡± I said, the awkward comparison I came up with.

    After a moment, she did a gesture with her hand, tapping her thumb against her other fingers; it kind of looked like a silent, one-handed clap, but was how she nodded. Shaking your head was like a shooing gesture using only your wrist, arm staying still.

    ¡°Dream is not real, rock is real,¡± she said, using the word that had lost me before. ¡°When the threads join, magic becomes real.¡±

    It still didn¡¯t quite make sense to me. ¡°Not real magic is hot?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Is it?¡±

    She leaned over and plucked a blade of grass in one hand, then made a ring with her other. A tiny fire appeared. She held the grass above it and I expected to see it steam and shrivel up and eventually catch fire, but I didn¡¯t see that at all. As if there was a breeze, it sort of squirmed, that was all.

    Nothing actually happened to it until she lowered it into the fire itself. Although hard to see well, it looked like it sort of fell apart, colouring the ball with a green tinge for a second or so, then there was nothing.

    I swallowed the lump in my throat.

    Trying to keep my voice level, I asked, ¡°Magic¡­ eat me?¡±

    She snorted. Not a loud one, but she definitely snorted¡ªthe closest I had ever heard her to laughing. Apparently, I¡¯d asked something stupid. Cheeks feeling hot, I looked away, shy.

    ¡°The magic won¡¯t eat you. Magic eats¡­ carrots, onions, those things. You and me¡­ pain. See?¡±

    At that last word, I turned back in time to see her reach out to the magic fire with her other hand. My body sort of seized up, wanting to stop her like if I saw a child reaching for something hot, yet knowing not to touch her, that she was an adult and knew what she was doing.

    So I watched, frozen, as her hand came close to the ball of flames. She didn¡¯t wince, but I could see how tense her face grew. Not a small pain. All she did was touch the edge of the fire, then jerked back her hand, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out with a shudder.

    ¡°See? Not eaten,¡± she said, showing me her hand.

    I wanted to hold it up to my face to make sure it was fine, but held back. What I could tell at a glance was that it looked very clean, no trace of any dust or dirt, which wasn¡¯t necessarily magic. She liked to keep clean when she could.

    But that her hand was so clean made the redness of her pale skin all the clearer. I didn¡¯t know if that meant anything, though. It looked sore, like a burn that needed to be run under cold water, but she didn¡¯t flinch when I touched it.

    ¡°Not eaten,¡± I whispered.

    For a moment, I was overwhelmed with wanting to kiss her finger, so used to doing it for the younger kids whenever they hurt themselves. I didn¡¯t do it, but I wanted to. Hated the thought of her hurting.

    Softly holding her finger, I said, ¡°Hyraj no pain, okay?¡±

    Couldn¡¯t look her in the eye, afraid I¡¯d tear up. So I just held her finger and waited. It wasn¡¯t like I could make her promise, after all.

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    After a long few seconds, she said, ¡°Okay.¡±

    I let out a sigh, let go of her hand, let my hand fall down, relieved.

    She cleared her throat, then picked up where she had left off. ¡°When magic is real, you can¡­ make fire or water. It is like braiding, but not. How you make clothes by making¡­ rings of thread,¡± she said, illustrating by making a circle with each hand, interlocked. A chain.

    Or rather, knitting? ¡°Yes, I know that.¡±

    Her hands relaxed, her right hand making the ¡°nodding¡± gesture again. Really, she had probably done that a lot before and I hadn¡¯t noticed, not paying attention to her hands. Now I knew, I did notice her do it often.

    ¡°For first, you can make the thread into one ring. More rings is¡­. One ring first,¡± she said, maybe unsure how to explain or deciding it wasn¡¯t necessary for me to know.

    There I went trying to guess her thoughts again. Never going to learn, was I?

    Whatever the reason, that was the end of her lecture and, hands out, we moved on to the practical. I felt more confident about it today, even though I had no clue if I would do at all well. She¡¯d told me what to do and what to expect and that was more than she had done so far.

    Not that I was complaining.

    So I made a ring with both hands and so did she, then she summoned a ball of magic fire, leaving it in my care. Before squashing it, I just felt it. It wasn¡¯t hot. I knew that, so tried to feel it. The buzz, the prickle, the pressure¡­ what was the heat? Was it pain? A new feeling that my brain just assumed was like something similar I had felt before?

    I had no reason to think magic was at all like a wire, but I knew a wire heated up because of resistance. Maybe it was like that. Magic flowed through me and bumped and rubbed against whatever it flowed through, making heat.

    Whether I was right or wrong, I couldn¡¯t know, so I moved on from those thoughts. She had told me magic was threads and squeezing them together made them real. That was why, when I shrunk the ring, I could see a wriggling thread. The longer I squeezed, the more threads squashed together?

    Focusing, I breathed out and then pushed my hands together, not with all my strength, but enough to make them budge. The ring was barely smaller, but it was smaller.

    I held my hands there and waited. Second after second, trying to keep my breathing normal. Seconds¡­ and then I caught a glimpse of something real. Impossibly thin, flickering in and out of sight as it danced around, but there.

    Before I let the excitement get to me, I remembered the next ¡°step¡±: I was supposed to turn the thread into a ring¡­ somehow.

    For now, I just stared at it and stared and hoped something would eventually come to mind. It didn¡¯t, though, at least not before the magic faded away. Yesterday, my muscles had given out before the magic had. Today, the magic stuck around for quite a while, feeling like a good minute. And as it faded, it became easier to squeeze, but that didn¡¯t make the thread of real magic any bigger.

    ¡°Louise try more,¡± Hyraj said.

    She didn¡¯t sound happy or upset, didn¡¯t look it, just patiently teaching me at the pace I managed.

    So I learned at the pace I could. A slow, meandering pace, day after day where we spent the evening by the stream, a ball of magic hovering between my hands, thin thread dancing. I tried to feel everything I could and looked closely only to find nothing more to it.

    Still, every evening, she summoned that ball of magic for me, neither complaining nor teaching me more.

    Almost a week passed and all I had to show for it was that I could make the thread a little thicker. What she wanted me to do, I wasn¡¯t any closer. At no point had I felt like I was even moving the thread at all¡ªnever mind making it into a circle.

    Well, I doubted she enjoyed watching me fail so much that she wasn¡¯t helping me on purpose, so I guessed there was nothing more to it. Something I just had to discover. I hated that, like being at school again and getting back a bad test result. Failing at something I didn¡¯t know how to do better and that no one could teach me to do better.

    But there was no test, not here. She didn¡¯t tell me I could do better, didn¡¯t say we would try something else today and come back to that another time, just sat down with me, doing the same thing over and over until we were hungry.

    So I kept trying.

    The stream trickled, leaves rustled, my own breaths louder than the wind as I stayed focused. So focused that, Hyraj jumping to her feet, I fell over. Before I could even gasp, she pulled me up and pushed me toward the camp.

    ¡°Run!¡± she said¡ªI guessed she said. She was in front of me the next moment and dragging me forward, her hand squeezing mine so tight it hurt. But I ran, soon the one dragging her.

    I didn¡¯t question her. Trusted her. Flashes of a truck, of Hatty. Ran, heart pounding, pulse so loud in my ears that I hoped there was nothing I needed to listen out for. Ran like the woman who had always been so unhurried had told me to.

    What had felt like such a short walk down became such a distance back up, not even sure we were going there. My room wouldn¡¯t stop anything scary. She had her sword on her. Was I missing something?

    I was.

    We reached the camp and, not knowing where to go, I fell back a pace, let go of her hand as she surged past me towards her backpack, tied to a branch so nothing rifled through it while we were gone. She didn¡¯t bother untying it, simply snapped the whole branch as she dragged it down with her weight, lifting off the ground a moment.

    Still hanging off the broken branch, she yanked it open and tossed out everything at the top until she reached what she wanted.

    I stopped close to her, saw the strange thing in her hand, and then heard what I hadn¡¯t heard before, a guttural growl that rumbled through the ground more than the air. My body wanted to freeze up, mind blanking, but flickers of Hatty were like fire in my veins, keeping me moving.

    So I turned and saw the creature, the thing which left all the animals of the forest so skittish. Like a horse, but its neck and legs were shorter, covered in a mattered fur the colour of dried blood, maybe dyed with it. Stained tusks stuck out from the corners of its mouth, completely straight. It scratched at the ground, not with a hoof, but more like a paw, and it let out a loud snort.

    It wasn¡¯t terrifying like a dragon or certain other mythical creatures. However, it still scared me. I hadn¡¯t seen any wild animal bigger than a squirrel or fox, nothing that would face a human, ready to charge. A very real fear like seeing a man with a knife down a dark alley.

    Then a flash of light, crimson lightning, a bright rope that launched from behind me to the beast in the blink of an eye, buzzing, a crack like a whip. The next moment, the creature howled, smoke rising from blackened fur, that lightning already gone and yet burned into my sight.

    Another moment and the animal fled, bounding off in zig-zagging leaps as if trying to put as many trees and bushes between us as it could. Maybe it was.

    Finally, I turned back to Hyraj, saw her standing there with narrowed eyes and a thin mouth, still but for her deep breaths. In her hand that now hung down at her side was a wand. At least, it was long and round and used for magic, so I called it a wand, but the dark colour of it gleamed like metal, a grainy black, sort of like TV static.

    This was magic.

 Ch. 20 Human

    After the beast fled, Hyraj stood there for a good minute before she let down her guard, keeping her wand in hand the whole time. Not even glancing at me, she walked over to the fire pit and sat on the stone bench there.

    I didn¡¯t know what to think. There wasn¡¯t relief that the creature had been scared off, no fear of Hyraj, just a numbness. Things had happened and I knew too little to even try to understand.

    So I walked over and sat next to her, saying nothing. Out the corner of my eye, I saw she still held the wand tightly, tense.

    Silence, stream trickling, and that was all. No whistling wind or rustling leaves, birds silent if there at all. No, the birds had probably fled as well, scared off by that beast or by the magic.

    One minute, two, who knew how long had passed before she finally spoke, her voice soft. Not fragile, but soft.

    ¡°Carrots, onions, they are plants. Plants eat magic. Animals eat plants. Animals full of magic. We eat plants. We full of magic. Magic eats plants, but we too full of magic. Big fire to eat a tree. Big magic to eat animals. Bigger magic to eat us.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t rambling, but the simple way she spoke and the pauses between sentences made me think she was coming up with it as she went. Not her usual way to explain things.

    Raising the wand, she kept the tip pointed down, but held it for me to see.

    ¡°This is wand. Made of special metal. I make ring, wand makes magic go. That animal¡­ very magic. Can make lots of pain. I feel it.¡±

    I listened, following along as best I could. Didn¡¯t know if the word she used before metal meant ¡°special¡± or if it was the name for a kind of metal, though, these kinds of words the worst for me. Something I couldn¡¯t stick to other words already stuck in my head.

    Her lesson stopped there, but the magic didn¡¯t. Reaching out with the wand, she pointed it at the pot and then a burst of cerulean light shot out, over in an instant, yet so bright I still saw it when I blinked. Belatedly, I thought to stand up and look in the pot.

    Full of water.

    It didn¡¯t take her long to fill it up by ¡°hand¡±, the stream of water she made bigger than what came out of a tap, but this had been instant. Not to mention, she only filled it up a little for cooking and it was completely full now.

    I had no reason to think she had taken longer on purpose before. No, the wand let her do more. So much more.

    Plants ate magic, then we ate plants. It reminded me of food chains in biology, especially biomass, how one fox ate ten rabbits who grazed on a hundred grass¡ªhow a small amount of pesticide on the grass ended up being concentrated in a single fox.

    Like a huge fire was needed to burn a tree, a huge magic was needed to ¡°eat¡± us. Never mind the ball of magic, even Hyraj¡¯s bolt of fire only seemed to burn that creature¡¯s fur. But it was still enough to scare it off. Probably not used to its prey fighting back like that, so it went to find something easier.

    Something she hadn¡¯t said¡­ animals eat plants, then we eat animals. I knew nothing about all this. Maybe it was like ¡°poison¡± and eating animals meant you had even more magic inside, maybe you could only have so much, any extra wasted.

    Guessing did me no good. If only I learned her language faster, had the words to ask, knew the words so she could tell me.

    So I went back to what she had said to think about that¡ªand something stuck out to me. ¡°Hyraj feel animal very magic?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, then swapped the wand to her other hand and held out her now empty hand. ¡°Louise feel magic?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure what she wanted me to do, but there was a hand being held out, so I put my hand on top. The moment we touched, I felt a tingling, her hand so warm, almost hot.

    ¡°This is magic?¡± I asked.

    She said nothing, held my hand, her touch almost prickling, every movement like little shocks on my palm. I thought it should have felt ticklish, but it didn¡¯t. Such an unusual sensation that I focused on it more and more as everything else faded away.

    Then she let go and it felt so sudden, not that she yanked her hand away or anything. I was just so focused. Used to that heat, it also felt cold¡­.

    The real reason: it had just been so long since I¡¯d held someone¡¯s hand or given them a hug. Almost three months? Well, if I didn¡¯t count when there wasn¡¯t something else going on¡ªlike a storm or a wild beast.

    Anyway, I missed that. Holding the girls¡¯ hands as we walked to school, giving them a cuddle when they felt sad, braiding their hair in the morning. I hadn¡¯t realised how much I¡¯d missed it until now, almost overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and grab her hand again.

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    But I didn¡¯t.

    That didn¡¯t meant I was going to forget my feelings, though. I thought and thought and cobbled together bits and pieces.

    ¡°Hyraj, I can braid your head thread?¡± I asked, hoping I had the grammar right¡ªand that ¡°head thread¡± made sense for hair.

    After a moment, she said a word while touching her hair. Never missing the chance to teach me another word.

    ¡°I can braid your hair?¡± I asked, softly smiling.

    Her hand lingered up by her head and she silently clapped with it before saying, ¡°Yes.¡±

    Standing behind her, the first step was to undo her hair clip. I had seen her put the ¡°bow¡± in before, but not close up, so I sort of assumed it worked like I expected. With my right hand, I picked at the string until I had a grip on it, then pushed with my thumb, opening it up; my left hand held her hair in place as I pulled the bow off, hopefully not pulling on her hair. She didn¡¯t flinch or say anything, a sigh of relief slipping out of me.

    I idly combed her hair with my fingers, admiring it. For how long she had been in the wild, it was well-kept. Thick, blonde hair, smooth to the touch, flowing past her shoulders, but not down to the middle of her back. No knots, I guessed she also brushed it at night or in the morning when I wasn¡¯t around.

    As much as I would have liked to play with it all day, I didn¡¯t want to test her patience. So I gathered it into a ponytail, fiddling to get the starting position right, then split it into three bunches, ready to braid.

    A simple braid. From the outside, over into the middle, left, then right, then left, then right. I felt clumsy doing it, used to doing young girls¡¯ hair and then the reed thread, her hair much thicker than both. But it was an easy task as long as I focused and didn¡¯t rush.

    And I hummed as I braided, that silly lullaby she found so beautiful.

    Neither a long nor a short time later, I finished, again fiddling with the ¡°bow¡±, this time securing the end of the braid. I liked to put a hair clip at the base of braids as well, but that was mostly so the little ones still had a ponytail if the braid came loose. Life involved a lot of running about at that age.

    Her bow on, my hands lingered a moment longer. I felt so much better. Something familiar, something intimate, something to drive away the loneliness for a while longer.

    Then I forced myself to step back and, sensing that, she reached out to touch the braid, pulling it over her shoulder to inspect it. ¡°Louise is good at braiding,¡± she said.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, unsure what else to say. New to receiving compliments.

    From there, we drifted back into our routine. However, I noticed that, for the rest of the day, she kept her wand in her hand. The next day, we stayed near the camp, same for the day after.

    Over those days, I made no progress despite how much I needed to. It hadn¡¯t sunk in until I was all alone in my room that I had almost died again. That, this time, my death would have had no meaning.

    Without magic, I couldn¡¯t stay out here alone. The stupid little axe I¡¯d made wasn¡¯t going to do anything if that ¡°horse¡± came back or something else like it came along. I was just like the jelly creature, a snack.

    Even if I did learn, though, I had no wand. There was a reason Hyraj had kept it in her backpack until now, probably expensive or rare or both. Something she didn¡¯t want other people to know about¡ªincluding me. Now that I did, she used it for filling the pot and lighting the fire, very skilled.

    At least, I guessed she was. Despite how powerful her magic could be with the wand, she only filled the pot as much as needed, only started small fires, not burning up all the reeds at once. Thin threads of magic.

    Wand or no wand, however skilled or not she was, I was definitely far away from being anywhere as good as her. Sitting naked by the stream while lathered up in ash paste, I idly made a ring with my hands. Only now did I realise I couldn¡¯t even summon the magic. She always put her hands over mine, summoning it for me.

    Oh well. Letting out a long breath, deflating, I folded in half, dejectedly scooping up water and pouring it over my legs. Little by little, I washed off the ash. Another thing I hadn¡¯t thought of before, the water she made for me to drink was warm, would be nice for bathing. Well, if I could do it myself, I could have just sat in front of the fire, summoning water as I needed it.

    But I still wouldn¡¯t be able to protect myself.

    Like an ache, that thought kept coming back. It honestly should have upset me. I loved my life here so much and I now knew I had to leave it behind, so why was I fine? I had no answer, so I just kept going. Finished washing and then went to sit in front of the fire that still burned from cooking breakfast.

    One way or another, my life was going to change again, go back to something like it was before, yet very different. I didn¡¯t know if there were orphanages in this world I could go work at. Maybe I needed to be able to do magic for jobs here.

    Once I was dressed, Hyraj walked over. I had guessed by now that she wasn¡¯t comfortable with nudity. Not everyone grew up with such little privacy, too few bathrooms.

    ¡°I think Louise will learn magic soon. You¡¯re a good girl,¡± she said, patting my hand.

    ¡°Hyraj good girl too. Hyraj is a very good girl,¡± I said, sandwiching her hand with my other one.

    She let out a breath of laughter, not really trying to pull away her hand.

    However, my mood went the other way, that little praise I gave her opening the way to the thanks I owed her. ¡°Louise is¡ªI am very thanks for Hyraj. You give me lots of¡­ words and magic, and I am very thanks. Very, very, very thanks,¡± I said, tearing up.

    I wished I had all the words to tell her how much what she had done meant to me, but I only had ¡°very¡± and ¡°thanks¡±.

    Squeezing her hand between mine, I whispered, ¡°Very thanks,¡± one last time, then let go of her.

    Too embarrassed to look her in the eye, I turned to the dying fire. Filled my head with the sight of it and the sound and the smell and the warmth.

    Then her hand came, touching my chin. Just touching, asking, not demanding. And I gave in, turning back to look at her. She showed me a smile that touched her lips and her eyes with unshed tears really did look like tropical seas.

    After a few seconds, though, those tears receded, mouth flat, leaving me wondering if I really had seen them at all.

    She said something to me then, words I didn¡¯t know. They weren¡¯t explained either. So I memorised them, this secret she wanted me to keep. As if giving me time to do so, she spoke only again after a minute, using words I understood this time.

    ¡°Louise go with me?¡±

 Ch. 21 Preparation

    I hadn¡¯t ever considered that Hyraj would want me to go with her when she finally left. I¡¯d thought about asking her if I could, but didn¡¯t want to remind her she was travelling, so, if I did ask to go with, it would have been when she was leaving.

    Something distant that I kept at the edge of my mind.

    Until now.

    The question coming out of nowhere for me, I took a moment to answer. ¡°Go where?¡± I asked, almost hoping I had misunderstood, hoping I hadn¡¯t.

    ¡°Go travels,¡± she said. I thought she said. The same word she¡¯d used that stormy day when telling me about how she left her parents.

    I couldn¡¯t put to words the flood of relief I felt, knowing I wouldn¡¯t be alone. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice level.

    We didn¡¯t leave that instant, didn¡¯t even start planning to leave right then. Instead, we carried on the day like it was any other, including the magic lesson. Sat by the spring, she put her hands on top of mine, warm, prickling, and summoned a ball of magic.

    Except that she didn¡¯t take her hands away. Confused by that, it took me a moment to realise it was water magic today.

    ¡°Take the thread and make it into a ring.¡± As she spoke, a watery thread appeared in the ball, but it didn¡¯t wriggle, pulled taut. Then it began to bend, making a perfect circle as it went. The moment both ends touched, it was like the whole ball turned into water, already falling, landing on the ground between us in a splash.

    I stared at the wet patch, stunned. A blink and I would have missed the magic. So many thoughts, all trying to be thought at the same time.

    ¡°Louise try.¡±

    Before I was ready, she summoned another ball of magic, leaving me flustered as I checked my hands still made a ring. Letting out a long breath, I stared at the magic. She had made it look so easy. Without even shrinking the ring, she had made a thread appear and held it straight and then made a perfect circle out of it.

    Well, she had probably practised a lot more than me, maybe had a tutor. Not that I thought her teaching was bad, just that¡­.

    Pushing away those pointless thoughts, I focused on the magic, tried again and again to do anything. So another evening passed without me making any progress.

    As if her asking me to go with her was a hypothetical question, she didn¡¯t mention it at all the next day either, or the next, almost a week passing like normal.

    After finishing the daily chores and having lunch, we sat under the big tree. She flattened reeds and I wove them. Something I¡¯d had in mind since she arrived, spurred on by her question, I wanted to make a squarish ¡°pot¡± to carry on my back. So I tied together a frame with sticks and thin rope and had some thicker rope ready for the straps, the weaving all that was left.

    Well, I wanted to reinforce it with more thread on the outside, especially the bottom. Once we were travelling, I didn¡¯t want it to break and annoy Hyraj. Not that I had anything worth carrying with us. Food, I guessed. Her rations had been long finished, the dried meat something she had sometimes stewed after taking the mushy vegetables out for me.

    I didn¡¯t know how long the vegetables lasted, but I guessed they would be fine for a few days, not to mention we could forage as we went.

    Went where, I didn¡¯t know. No clue how long it would take. If I thought she knew, I might have asked her, but I doubted she did. Something about what she had told me made it seem like she was just wandering. After all, my camp wasn¡¯t exactly along a road, was it?

    So I tried not to worry about things like that, instead focused on what I could do. Magic, not so much, but weaving, yes.

    As we busied ourselves with this work, we talked, how she kept teaching me words these days. Nothing exciting. ¡°This stone is heavy,¡± she said, holding it in one hand, a reed seed in the other. ¡°This seed is light.¡± I dutifully repeated the new words, swapping ¡°this¡± for ¡°that¡±, a smile on my face. Like she was reading a book for babies. I didn¡¯t mind, not really much better than a toddler.

    After putting down the stone and seed, she sort of stopped, not flattening another reed or teaching me something else. I wondered if she needed the toilet, the only reason she usually ever stopped.

    ¡°We should leave when the next rain comes,¡± she said, then carried on her work.

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    My turn to pause, sorting through her sentence and the wave of emotions that followed. Not as many as I had expected, though, barely reaching me. This life I had loved now so empty without her that it wasn¡¯t even worth missing.

    To wake up alone, eat alone, work alone, sleep alone, then do it all again, day after day, nothing but silence for company¡­.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    Always ready to teach, she taught me words for the weather, explained that this was the ¡°summer¡± season where the rain usually fell heavily once a week, dry in-between. After she finished, I realised it was kind of weird for her to tell me that much. Our calendars were different, but, if I was from this world, I would have known what the seasons were like¡­.

    Well, she probably hadn¡¯t thought about it and just kept talking. No way she knew I was from another world.

    Come evening, rather than another magic lesson, we harvested all the wheat and left it to dry out. I had been growing a lot to use the straw for kindling, but her magic had meant I didn¡¯t need to do that, so a lot of wheat had been waiting, fully-grown.

    In the morning, we harvested a lot of beans too. My idea. Sprouting wasn¡¯t the only thing to do with them, but we probably didn¡¯t have time for them to dry out naturally. Fortunately, we had fire, so we just needed a way to make it not cooking-hot. Rocks were what I came up with. We heated up a huge rock and then flipped it upside down, leaving the peas in her metal pan and bowls on top of the rock. Once it cooled down, we heated it again, in the end a couple hours enough time to make the batch of peas look dried.

    I chewed one to make sure and we gave it some more time, the next one I tried feeling dried through. Her pot and bowls only so big, we blanched and dried a couple more batches over the rest of the day¡ªas well as doing other chores. Not like we had to watch it the whole time.

    As for the other stuff, I wasn¡¯t sure if it could be dried, except for the fruit, but fruit was easy enough to spot walking through the forest.

    The next couple days, we kept an eye on the sky for rain clouds. None yet. It felt like ages since the last rain, ¡°about every week¡± maybe a very loose time. Still, it gave the wheat time to dry out, so we threshed it and separated out the chaff¡ªto keep. We needed to keep the beans and wheat dry, so I thought the chaff would make good ¡°sawdust¡± to soak up moisture.

    It was as that night fell that clouds loomed and distant thunder rumbled. We emptied out the larder, leaving only my reed backpack inside with the dried beans and wheat seeds and chaff. Everything else, we cooked or buried¡ªdidn¡¯t want to attract animals even if it was our last night here.

    A feast before we left. Thankfully, I was in charge of it, so we had roasted carrots and ¡°grilled¡± asparagus, onions, and bell peppers, mustard leaves for flavour. The charring and caramelising something I tried to remember, knowing it would be a lot of pea stews and porridge and boiled ¡°forage¡± from now on.

    With a carrot on her fork, Hyraj said, ¡°Louise is good at cooking,¡± and took a bite.

    I covered my mouth, afraid the smile stretching it would let some food out. Carefully chewing, I finished and swallowed, only then replying. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    The fire crackled, our cutlery clinked, blowing wind rustling leaves and almost howling, dragging clouds up the mountain to where we sat. A cold wind, fire hot, warm with her at my side. Something so nice about having company when the weather was like this.

    We ate until we were full and then a bit more, or at least I did. Still hated wasting food. Rain not yet here, she washed up and I stacked up the fire with more reeds. We were going to take some dried reeds with us, but the rest could burn, no point leaving them there.

    Having such a large fire felt strange, wasteful. However, once I got over that feeling, I liked it. The days were warm, especially with my layers of clothes, but it was kind of only warm, not hot. Even in the sunshine, it wasn¡¯t the same as sitting by the fire and feeling my skin prickle from the heat.

    Similar, but different, to the prickle of magic.

    Overflowing with warm feelings, I hummed the beautiful tune of twinkle twinkle little star. Better still, now knowing it well, she hummed along, a quiet duet amongst the growing wind and the fire that crackled and spat more than usual and the dinging of water on metal as she washed up.

    Eventually, the rain began to fall. Just spitting, there was no need to rush, Hyraj unhurried as she took her things back to her backpack. I started walking to my room, expecting her to come join me there.

    It was only when I saw her take out her mattress thing that I realised we hadn¡¯t actually agreed on sleeping together. After all, since that storm, the other rainy nights weren¡¯t that bad, so she had slept under the tree for them.

    I hesitated, still very much afraid of upsetting her. The little courage I¡¯d found since meeting her had been focused on trying to cook more so she cooked less. Now¡­ I thought we were closer, that her wanting me to travel with her meant something.

    Using up the last of my courage, I took the first step towards her and let momentum do the rest. Step after step until I happened to end up in front of her.

    Of course, she had noticed me coming at some point, probably the second I started walking her way. She sat there, blanket in her arms, staring up at me with narrowed eyes and thin lips that didn¡¯t look quite so scary as they had.

    No, her expressions hadn¡¯t ever really scared me. Maybe because it had been so long since I¡¯d seen someone, I had always found her beautiful, hard to put into words. Like a model, that aloof expression.

    Anyway, I had never been scared of her, only scared of upsetting her. Now was no different.

    ¡°Sleep with me,¡± I said, holding out my hand.

    She kept staring at me, her eyes narrowing. ¡°I will sleep here. The rain will be light,¡± she said.

    I went to shake my head, but caught myself, instead doing the kind of shooing gesture. ¡°You and me eat. You and me work. Now you and me travel and you and me sleep.¡±

    Awkward, but I didn¡¯t know how else to put it, had pushed myself here before I lost my nerve, the rain only going to get heavier. To hide my embarrassment, I shook my hand like it was obvious she should take it.

    One second, two, ten, she kept me waiting and waiting until finally giving an answer.

    Reaching up, she held my hand and said, ¡°Very well.¡±

    The start of our travels together.

 Ch. 22 Leaving the familiar

    The rain poured through the night, not always strong, but always there, drumming on the thatch roof. We lay on the straw with her mattress as a pillow, blanket just wide enough to cover us both. A warmth and safety we wouldn¡¯t know again for who knew how long.

    Morning dawned with a drizzle and trickle, fairly late that the clouds cleared, then our day began. It wasn¡¯t yet midmorning, but still much later than we usually got up. Like it was a usual day, we followed our routine all the way to breakfast, the last of the loose wheat boiled up into porridge.

    Once the bowls were empty, fire put out, I felt the weight of leaving here. Leaving what I knew and heading into a place as unwelcoming as this camp had been when I had first come to this world. No farms of food, no safe crevice from the rain and wind, not even fresh water to drink.

    If not for Hyraj, I had no clue if I would have ever left. Daunting. Maybe I would have made a sled and brought a ton of food and kindling with me, travelling down the mountain, along the river. Maybe even that would have been too scary to try.

    Well, that wasn¡¯t what was going to happen, so thinking about it was a waste of time.

    Standing up, I looked around. I had put in so much effort that it sort of tied me to it. Something like¡­ one of Newton¡¯s laws? That as much as I had shaped this camp, it had shaped me back too. Like how rough my hands were from moving rocks and shredding reeds and braiding.

    Not sentimental, though. Just like I wasn¡¯t sentimental about the orphanage. It was a building that kept me safe and warm and fed, but who I missed were the other children. Not even the staff. The staff hadn¡¯t done anything bad to me or anything, they just paid attention to the children who needed it, which wasn¡¯t me, so I didn¡¯t really¡­ bond with them? Not like I did with the other kids.

    This was a place that kept me safe and warm and fed, but what I would miss was the silence. No one here who needed my help with homework or their hair fixed or wanted a hug or a bedtime story or for me to hold their hand until they fell asleep.

    Funny how I could also miss those things too, the silence I cherished painfully lonely.

    Hyraj packed away the things we used for breakfast and I picked up my ¡°backpack¡±. As well as the dried peas, there was wheat¡ªjust assumed it would keep well, knowing about grain silos¡ªand a bunch of seeds¡ªjust in case we ended up making a proper camp somewhere else. All my reed ropes too, some thin and some thicker and one thick enough for a person to climb¡­ if they didn¡¯t have to climb far, only about as long as I was tall.

    Anyway, my heart was steady, mind clear, ready to leave behind the only place in this world I knew.

    ¡°Louise is¡­ go?¡± Hyraj asked, I guessed her pause because she thought of using a word I wouldn¡¯t know. Strange that she didn¡¯t use it to teach me, but this wasn¡¯t a normal day.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, making the ¡°nodding¡± gesture with my hand. Consciously doing that helped keep me from nodding¡ªwouldn¡¯t want to upset someone important by daring to nod at them.

    No one to say goodbye to, she started walking and I followed, looking straight ahead as we left. Maybe someone else would stumble across it one day and take shelter there. Well, if the room lasted that long. It wouldn¡¯t be long until the ¡°stormy¡± season and I doubted my mud walls would survive.

    Although busy thinking, it was easy to follow behind her, her path avoiding roots and stones and anything else that could trip us up as she strode along. Forest full of large trees that left plenty of space to walk around whatever was in the way.

    Walk we did, hard to follow the time beneath the trees, sun hidden away. Distant birds and our footsteps¡ªmostly hers, not heavy, but firm¡ªwere all that kept us company, no glimpses of animals and barely a breeze, sometimes leaves falling from the swaying canopy above us. It hadn¡¯t felt so empty before and I wondered if it was because the animals could feel her magic.

    It felt like only minutes had passed when she came to a stop, turning to me. ¡°Lunch?¡±

    I took a moment to answer, first thinking it was too early, then realising I was quite tired and a little hungry, so lost in thought I hadn¡¯t noticed.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, again doing the little clap to stop myself from nodding.

    Not really anywhere more comfortable to sit than the ground, we sat under a tree. As we did, I noticed her arms were full of fruit¡ªI had apparently been quite out of it to not notice her picking them. She split them between us, then took out two cups and filled them with water.

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    We ate in silence, wind rustling leaves above our head, distant birdsong. Once we finished, she excused herself for a moment. Not wanting to leave our food and her backpack unattended, I waited for her to come back before excusing myself, better to go now than interrupting our walking.

    When I came back, I expected we would set off right away. We didn¡¯t, though, sitting for a while and talking. About life. Well, nothing that philosophical, just the sorts of things that came up in everyday life. Small talk, really.

    ¡°How did you sleep?¡± she asked again, third time¡¯s the charm.

    ¡°I slept well, thanks,¡± I said, wondering by now if the ¡°thanks¡± she taught me was more of a ¡°thank you¡± or even politer.

    Half an hour passed, maybe an hour, then we finally set off. Rather than the brisk pace of the morning, she walked at the unhurried speed I knew her for. I wondered if she was taking pity on me up until she glanced back and beckoned me forward; the moment I joined her side, she carried on the ¡°lesson¡±.

    Talking, walking, avoiding tripping hazards¡ªI certainly had fun as the afternoon hours trickled by.

    Eventually, it darkened. She kept us going until twilight, only once it became dark in the trees¡¯ shade that we stopped at a clearing and set up camp, but we had gathered firewood and fruits as we walked for the last hour, an armful of each.

    Starting a fire was as easy as always with her around. She pounded the stakes into the ground, balanced the pot on top, and summoned some water. I added a cupful of dried peas for each of us, already reminiscing about the carrots and onions and even the asparagus. Really should have brought some with, even if they only lasted the first few days.

    But I was happy. The warmth of the crackling fire, Hyraj at my side, and the exhaustion of a day well spent. Three things I had come to love in this world.

    While we ate, I looked back the way we¡¯d come. Not something I¡¯d really thought about until now, we had left my camp the opposite side that she had come from, so we were probably following whatever route she had in mind. Across the mountain, not going up or downhill. If we were just going to the nearest village, then following the river would be best, but maybe she had something else in mind.

    Those were questions I could have asked her. I didn¡¯t want to, though, knowing this was a long journey enough for me. It wasn¡¯t like where we went mattered. There was no home or family for me to ever return to in this world, no place I grew up or anywhere at all familiar, only strangers and foreign lands.

    That was fine. I grew up with strangers in a place that wasn¡¯t my home, after all. Wherever we ended up, I would be fine, so there was no need to worry. Especially if she was with me.

    The ¡°pea stew¡± quick to eat, she carried on talking the moment we both finished, idly using magic as she cleaned up. Okay, she could talk and use magic at the same time like it was nothing. As if my struggle with magic wasn¡¯t frustrating enough.

    Anyway, there wasn¡¯t a reason to stay up, so, once she finished cleaning, we put out the fire and went to bed. No straw-carpeted room out here, she put out her mattress thing and we used it like a pillow, her blanket just big enough to cover both of us. A bit of a squeeze to tuck it under us¡ªdidn¡¯t want the wind taking it¡ªbut we were both girls.

    Silence, the leaves rustling, insects chirping, and her breaths. Deep and measured breaths that, the more I listened, the closer to sleep I fell, falling.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± she whispered.

    My eyes shot open, not scared, but jerked back from the edge of sleep. ¡°Goodnight,¡± I whispered back.

    Even though that had woken me up, I just did the same thing, listening to her breaths, and quickly fell back to sleep. I¡¯d forgotten how nice something as simple as a blanket and pillow were. Usually, I woke up once or twice in the night, but not tonight. A good sleep.

    In the morning, we had pretty much the same routine as back at camp, ending with me making porridge. She had been forbidden from porridge duty after burning three breakfasts in a row, apparently fine with the taste. It worked out for the best now since I couldn¡¯t wash up without her help. I cooked, she cleaned.

    Then we set off, still at the slower pace, talking as we went. Not a constant conversation, but a few minutes at a time as she hammered in whatever she was teaching me, the silences in-between usually longer.

    We walked until it was around midday and stopped to eat the fruits we had picked along the way, more since I actually helped today. After eating, she told me about the fruits, which included teaching me the word for diarrhoea¡ªI had no way to know if she taught me a euphemism or the technical term. Whichever it was, ¡°eesdrin¡± was at least easier to remember how to spell.

    Then we set off, walking at her unhurried pace, idly chatting from time to time as the day passed. Evening, we set up camp and had pea stew and went to bed.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± I said.

    She whispered back, ¡°Goodnight.¡±

    A different routine than we had followed back at my camp, but we fell into it easily enough, another day passing in that rhythm, and another, and another.

    We would have kept going like that if not for our food running low. Well, it was about half-empty. We weren¡¯t halfway to our destination, though, so half wasn¡¯t enough.

    Fortunately, I was an experienced forager. It just meant that we had to stop to dig up things now and then. Didn¡¯t find any carrots or onions, maybe the soil not right for them for whatever reason. Hopefully, if we did make another long-term camp somewhere, my seeds would grow.

    What I did find was the asparagus and beans, so we had a fresh pea soup and grilled asparagus. Not entirely satisfied with that, I poked around while she washed up, digging up any old thing, sniffing the leaves¡ªa bit like a dog, I thought to myself, trying not to burst into laughter like a madwoman.

    Still, it was familiar. Reminded me of when I¡¯d first come here, but how nice it was to have someone with me for it, to have something as simple as a metal cup and pot, to be able to start a fire in a second rather than minutes.

    Different to the comfort of life at the camp, but I didn¡¯t hate it.

 Ch. 23 New routines

    A week had passed since we left the camp. With the two of us remembering, we could keep track of the days well enough. Well, this was the seventh day, so a week and a day in her calendar? If we left on Monday¡­ then it would be Monday again for her. Her days of the week were called something different, but you get the idea.

    Anyway, thinking about that over breakfast, I realised that I would normally wash my clothes on this day. Also realised I hadn¡¯t bathed at all since leaving.

    Sneaking a glance at her, she looked fine. Her skin clean, hair brushed out, not at all oily. Then there was me who probably looked like a stray dog. At least I combed my hair with my fingers, so no matting.

    Still, now that I knew, I hated the grimy feeling. But what could I do?

    At the end of breakfast, she started washing up and I distracted myself with looking for food. Pulling up plants. Last night, I had learned a bunch of plants that weren¡¯t food, so my uprooting wasn¡¯t entirely random. For all my effort, I found something like a potato plant where the potatoes were the size of peas.

    A win in my books.

    Bringing back my prize to show her, I was surprised to find her just sitting by the fire. She wasn¡¯t cleaning, hadn¡¯t put the fire out, not busy with something. As always, though, she noticed me coming, looking over with her usual expression.

    ¡°Is there no problems?¡± I asked. How she phrased, ¡°Is something wrong?¡± in her language.

    She shooed with her hand, then patted the ground next to her, so I shuffled over and sat there too. The fire warm, no breeze to be felt, leaves rustling, distant birds twittering. I certainly felt comfortable here, but sitting around wasn¡¯t going to get us any closer to our destination.

    Eventually, she said, ¡°We shall take a rest day.¡±

    ¡°A rest day,¡± I mumbled, the way she phrased it different, but the meaning familiar considering we were sat here doing nothing.

    ¡°Well, I say a rest day, but we won¡¯t be sitting idle. You need to wash your clothes, yes? And I realised that I haven¡¯t been allowing you to bathe. I am very sorry for that, I cannot imagine how uncomfortable you must feel. After that, we can forage, some extra fresh food important to have around as another rain may be coming soon.¡±

    Her monologue came out at her unhurried pace, tone level, yet I heard the sincerity in her apology, making me feel guilty considering I hadn¡¯t realised until today either. I just hoped she hadn¡¯t realised because I smelled that bad¡­.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, no problems,¡± I said, resisting the urge to sniff myself.

    She said nothing to that, instead pointing at the pot beside the fire. Looking there, I noticed there were also clothes, neatly folded. ¡°I warmed that water for you to use and you may borrow those clothes while washing your own.¡±

    Well, she certainly did feel shy about nudity. No wonder she changed clothes while off on her own in the mornings.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, softly smiling.

    We stayed like that for a while longer, then she stood up, added some more wood to the fire, and walked off, saying something about foraging. It wasn¡¯t that she mumbled, I just didn¡¯t quite catch how she phrased it.

    Left alone, there was no reason to put off my ¡°chores¡±, so I pushed myself up and started stripping. It was nicer under the trees, barely a breeze even when the wind shook the canopies above. Had often took my jumper off to keep from getting too hot these days.

    Testing the water, she really had heated it up. Painful when I tested it, but my hand quickly got used to the temperature, so it wasn¡¯t scalding hot or anything. Oh how long it had been since I¡¯d had a hot ¡°bath¡±. Not only that, she¡¯d left soap for me. Looked cheap, but who knew what soap was like in this world, maybe this plain bar worth its weight in gold.

    Whatever the case, I rinsed off with water, then lathered up as little as I could get away with. It felt wonderful. The ash had seemed to work well enough, but it still felt kind of like washing myself with dirt. No breeze, hot water, I barely felt cold either. Just wonderful.

    A last surprise, when I checked the spare clothes, a hand towel was there too. Smiling, I wiped off as much water as I could and then dried off with the towel. Not perfectly dry, but good enough to put on clothes, so I did.

    Her clothes weren¡¯t anything fancy, I thought. A long-sleeved shirt and trousers. They looked like cotton, a plant cloth rather than wool, but felt nice, smooth. Holding them up and turning them around, I realised the stitching was pretty good and that probably meant something if there weren¡¯t sewing machines around. No way to really know, though, so I just put them on.

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    Since she hadn¡¯t included underwear, I washed those first and left them to dry by the fire. No need to worry about the wind blowing them into the fire. Then I worked through my other clothes, using a bit of soap in the water to hopefully clean off the sweat soaked into them.

    They were good clothes. Months of being worn every day and they still looked good as new, what you¡¯d expect from a goddess. I knew about wearing the same clothes a lot too. Hand-me-downs and donations, clothes on the verge of falling apart, but not quite there.

    Once the washing was done, I stared at the water. Soap wasn¡¯t good for plants. Pretty sure it kind of killed them with even a little bit. But there wasn¡¯t a drain here, was there? And I had only used as little as I needed. I hadn¡¯t rinsed the lather off into the pot either, I thought, looking at the damp spot on the ground.

    Nothing else for it, I used a stick to dig the muddy spot into a small hole, then slowly drained the water there. Keep the dead patch as small as possible.

    After that, I stood there, not knowing what to do. My clothes weren¡¯t quite dry enough to change into, but I didn¡¯t want to dirty her clothes by digging up plants. I struggled over what to do before deciding that picking up firewood would be fine, so that was what I did, plodding around the edge of our camp. Had to keep an eye on the fire and our backpacks.

    Checking on my clothes now and then, they eventually dried. I looked down at the borrowed clothes one last time, softly smiling, and changed back into my clothes. Familiar, but fresh. Probably all in my head, but they felt lighter, smoother. Like all that dirt weighed them down and my grimy skin was sticky.

    Still, it was nice to wait until they were entirely dry for once. At the camp, I had felt cold, so I only waited until, like, they were dry enough to be warmer than being naked. If it was a colder day, then I washed them in two goes, but that had always felt like a waste of time and firewood.

    A new routine. How much nicer life was with just a bit of help, I thought, folding her clothes as neatly as she had. I left them and the soap on top of her backpack, not wanting to go into it. It was hers, after all, full of things like that oil lamp and her wand that I shouldn¡¯t touch. Not a shared backpack.

    With that done, I stood there, kind of confused? No idea what to do again. Well, not no idea, but I was sort of stuck by the camp to watch our things. I started by putting the fire out.

    Then, well, I pulled up plants. Found some more pea-potatoes. Peatatoes? Potapeas? Pea-potatoes was probably best unless Hyraj knew what they were. Really, I should have been trying to think of things less in terms of English words, but it was hard, even hearing her say the foreign words bringing to mind the carrots of my old world.

    It was nearly an hour later that she returned. Maybe more like half an hour, time just feeling slow when I was doing nothing that interesting. Anyway, she had firewood in her arms¡ªlots of it.

    ¡°Good working,¡± I said, amusing myself with another of the little quirks of her language.

    She put down the firewood by our backpacks, then looked my way. A moment passed with her staring at me before she said, ¡°Good working,¡± back.

    Just like that, I wanted to crawl into a hole. Maybe I really had smelled and looked terrible.

    Couldn¡¯t meet her gaze, so I busied myself picking up the pea-potatoes I¡¯d found. ¡°See these? You¡ªdo you know them?¡± I asked. Using proper grammar was my speaking focus right now. If we did end up at a village, I wanted to make a good impression and sounding like a toddler wasn¡¯t it.

    She walked over, her feet soon coming into my sight as I stared down at my haul.

    ¡°Is it that?¡± she said, the question version of, ¡°That is it.¡± An idle thing to say while she thought over what she saw. ¡°I cannot say I recognise it like this¡­. Perhaps, when cooked, I may.¡±

    Her manner of speaking had also grown more proper these days, no longer sticking to simple sentences for me. Harder to follow, but, getting familiar with her style, I wasn¡¯t struggling like I had expected to at the start. Different to when I had been learning French. Maybe because I spent so much of the day listening to her speak, not just a few hours a week.

    While I thought over that, she took the pea-potatoes from my hand and, making a ring, rinsed them, her other hand brushing off the dirt. The other reason I called them potatoes was their sort of yellowish colour. She picked at the skin on one, then squashed it between her fingers. At the least, they did look like a starchy vegetable to go with the pea stew.

    ¡°Yes, I may know it mashed,¡± she said, returning them to me. Taking out a handkerchief, she wiped her fingers. ¡°If so then they would be hichkle.¡±

    What she called it locked up my brain, half-carrot, half-peas. Carrot-peas.

    Her handkerchief back in her pocket, she looked at me and, well, my confusion was probably pretty obvious to see. ¡°Hich in carrot means¡­ something that is under dirt, like we bury the seeds,¡± she said, and the word for bury was similar to ¡°hich¡± too. ¡°Kle is like¡­ baby, but it is used for small things that are found or kept close together. Many names for cooked foods use it.¡±

    Always time for a language lesson, I thought with a smile.

    Unfortunately, her lesson made me think of them as baby carrots, which they definitely weren¡¯t. Not everything could work out nicely when comparing languages between two worlds that even had different plants.

    Lesson over, she took another look at the leaves, then we went searching for them. Unlike the other vegetables I had found so far, none of the hichkle plants were flowering or making seeds. No, it seemed like they grew from the hichkle, roots spreading out until the ¡°peas¡± were far enough away for another plant to grow. I¡¯d only actually pulled up a small part of the plant, roots breaking easily.

    Whatever the exact details were, all I knew was that, digging up more of the ground around the plant, there were a lot of loose hichkle. It really helped having her metal stakes to dig.

    So we stocked up on those and fruits and checked other plants, taking us to lunchtime. Despite calling it a rest day, we packed up afterwards, then walked through the afternoon until evening, falling into our usual routine.

    Life was funny like that. You could spend years doing the same thing, over and over, barely changing your routine at all, then just drop it one day and start a new one.

    The sky grew dark, our dinner eaten, and we lay down for bed.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± I said.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± she whispered back, then settled into her even breaths.

    My favourite part of our new routine, no longer alone.

 Ch. 24 Come rain or shine

    After another day of travelling, we woke up to the promise of rain. A little late, but not as late as last time, the winds blew up the mountain and dragged grey clouds with them. It felt different this deep in the forest, how the canopy above shook so much, raining leaves, yet the breeze was so mild by the ground.

    Over breakfast, I wondered if we would stay here for the day. From the glimpses of the sky I caught, it would only be drizzling for a while and we could pretty much walk from tree to tree¡ªhard to avoid trees in a forest, I wasn¡¯t so worried about lightning strikes now, hadn¡¯t been too sure how worried to be in the first place.

    As we finished and she started washing up, my wondering was answered. ¡°Stay here and I shall find a good place nearby to camp through the rain,¡± she said, her unhurried pace and clear voice as helpful as always when telling me a sentence I wasn¡¯t familiar with.

    She had asked me to watch over our things before, had gone to find camps before, and had spoken about the rain, but this was all at once, taking me a moment to understand.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. Another word I thought might be more polite than how I thought of it.

    While I mulled over things like that, she went off, coming back in half an hour with firewood in her arms. I hurried to my feet, feeling guilty, and brought her my backpack to put it in. The open top made it good for keeping sticks and it only had some food in it otherwise, not as heavy as hers with all the metal stuff and clothes.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said and slotted the firewood in, then picked up her backpack. ¡°This way.¡±

    A winding walk, taking us into a patch of older trees, it seemed, bigger with gnarled limbs and thick roots that broke the ground. Few bushes grew here, mostly dirt and rotten branches. My lightning worry returned at the thought of her taking me to the tallest tree around, but that was put to rest when we arrived, what she had found like a willow tree, wide with dangling leaves. It looked like it was a clearing before the tree grew there, woody remains of old bushes in its shade. I couldn¡¯t really say, though, just a thought I had seeing them there.

    What I could say was that she had chosen a great spot. By the trunk, the droopy leaves above looked like they overlapped, hopefully acting like roof tiles. I hadn¡¯t really thought about why it stayed dry under trees before. In the back of my head, there was a geography lesson¡­ denying competition? Maybe they wanted to push the water away from the trunk so nothing could grow there and take away nutrients?

    Shaking my head, I tried to stop thinking idle thoughts. Wasn¡¯t the time.

    We put down our things and, a few words from her, we scouted around for more kindling and fruit. There were some decent pieces of wood and dead bushes around the larger trees, but not much in the way of fruit. A good thing we¡¯d stocked up on hichkle the last couple days.

    Nothing else to do, we kept that up until it started to rain. Even if the canopy covered the sky, all of the rain still had to end up on the ground, pouring through the gaps they did find. And pour it did, apparently skipping right past the drizzling stage.

    ¡°This way!¡± Hyraj said, not shouting, but her voice loud and hurried over the rain, making such a noise as it drummed on the leaves above us.

    I followed in her footsteps, like we were playing a game how we hopped between dry patches. Fortunately, we hadn¡¯t gone far knowing the rain would start, but not far was still enough to end up unpleasantly damp since I wasn¡¯t wearing my jumper. The woolly yarn was sort of waterproof, but my shirt and vest weren¡¯t, happily soaking up the water and sticking to my skin.

    Looking over myself, I sighed. A bunch of splodges where the heavy rain had got me. It wasn¡¯t cold, though, so I sat down by the trunk, knees up and arms around them.

    She had other plans. I watched her use a thick stick to sort of scrape dead leaves away, leaving just dirt, then she summoned water to wet around the edge. Once she grabbed the first piece of firewood, I guessed what she was up to and hastily got up to help.

    Of course, only after adding a few pieces did I remember she very much didn¡¯t like me helping her with things and, glancing at her, I noticed her eyes were certainly narrowed, mouth thin¡­ more than usual. We had spent so much time together, I could at least tell that much.

    But she hadn¡¯t asked me to stop, so I didn¡¯t. Stick by stick, we built our usual-sized fire, another touch of her magic all it took to get it going. Hot. I hadn¡¯t felt cold before, but the prickling heat made me want to sit close enough to catch on fire.

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    Instead, I sat just far enough to not catch on fire, getting nice and comfy on the ground. Dancing flames and drumming rain. It was funny to think that I hadn¡¯t experienced them both together before, a tiny room with a straw roof and straw all over the floor not the best place for a fire.

    Now that I did, I was completely entranced, clicking together why I¡¯d heard people talk about how they loved sitting by the fireplace on a rainy day.

    So entranced I almost jumped when something touched my back, frozen in place until she sat down next to me. It took me another moment to realise that she¡¯d put my jumper over my back, the sleeves hanging down my front. I reached up and tied them into a scarf.

    We sat in silence for a while, maybe a minute, maybe an hour, time losing all meaning since I fell back into a daze. Then she asked, ¡°Did you live there for long?¡±

    My listening better than my speaking, it took me a few seconds to reply. ¡°You saw how long.¡±

    ¡°So that is when you arrived at that place?¡± she said, talking to herself more than me.

    I still replied, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°That is it,¡± she said softly, then spoke up as she spoke to me. ¡°It is just that it would align with the Grahtvith.¡±

    As well as I was doing with understanding her so far, that new word sent me for a loop. I vaguely recognised the second part and remembering that klin¡¯graht was like ¡°hello¡± didn¡¯t help.

    She looked over, then said, ¡°It is¡­ when day and night are as long as each other, and that is when our calendar starts.¡±

    Day and night the same length¡­ so the spring equinox? I didn¡¯t know when that was in my old world, but the solstices¡­ around Christmas and the middle of summer¡­ so halfway between them was¡­ March? Months ago by now, but I had ¡°died¡± towards the end of March.

    I hadn¡¯t believed in magic or witchcraft or anything like that in my old life. No reason to think the equinox or solstice was a more special day than any other. However, it seemed close enough to the right day to use for when I arrived in this world.

    All that thinking not quick, I realised I was being pretty rude, so quickly said, ¡°I think I arrived there at the¡­ Gratvifth?¡±

    ¡°Grahtvith,¡± she said, as patient as ever.

    ¡°Grahtvith,¡± I repeated, a little better at copying than when we had started.

    She poked the fire with a stick, then added it to the pile. ¡°So five months.¡±

    It sounded so long when she said it like that, especially since her months were a week shorter, but four ¡°real¡± months was still a long time too. The days had honestly all blended together, especially by now. I remembered struggling at the start, feeling so overwhelmed until I managed to make that little house, sleeping in a crevice¡­.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I whispered, voice maybe lost amongst the rain, saying it more to myself than her. I had survived four of her months before she arrived, spent a month and a half with her, and now we were here.

    Moving. The world didn¡¯t stop, no matter how much I tried to hold it in place.

    It felt funny to think that when we were sitting still, but even sitting still could be moving, the harmless question she asked changing me forever. Not a big change, but a change nonetheless.

    ¡°Do you do things for Grahtvith?¡± I asked, hoping to change her too.

    ¡°Well, Grahtvith is the first day of sowing, so we¡ª¡±

    Pausing that there, she quickly taught me the verb ¡°to celebrate¡±, tenses and all, then repeated what she had said, continuing on.

    ¡°So we celebrate the day before. Oh, but you asked what things we do, is it that? For most people, it is about vith, giving away things they have made over the year. For older children, giving ¡­ gifts is fairly common too.¡±

    I ¡°nodded¡± along with the clapping gesture, but got stuck on a word she used, so repeated it back to her.

    ¡°That word is like¡­ before mother and father are mother and father, father might give mother a beautiful hat and mother might give father a flower she has grown. Romantic gifts,¡± she said, this time the meaning clearer to me.

    Raising my hand, I clapped for her to see. Her gaze flicked down to my hand, then back to me, a touch of a smile on her face. Just a touch.

    ¡°For older children, well, among the girls, flower squashing is perhaps the most vithful gift. To choose a flower that represents what you wish to say, to take the seed and grow it into a flower, and to squash it so that it lasts through the cold months¡ªevery step is so full of vith.¡±

    The way she spoke of it seemed almost wistful, or maybe just was wistful and I wasn¡¯t used to her being wistful. Either way, it made me curious enough to ask, ¡°Has Hyraj ever¡­ flower squashed?¡±

    She didn¡¯t fidget or scowl or really show any reaction at all. I was disappointed, but had expected as much. It took a lot to shake her.

    ¡°Not as such,¡± she said, lingering there for a moment. ¡°However, I have received some, though I did not dare bring them on this journey. Beautiful squashes.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t great at reading people, but I was getting better at reading her and it seemed like she didn¡¯t want to talk about that more. So I didn¡¯t press her on it.

    The fire crackled, rain poured, and we sat, sometimes in silence, sometimes in conversation. She told me about some of the other ¡°holidays¡±. How, shortly after the winter solstice, they burned a certain wood with a pleasant smell to drive away something like evil spirits, keeping the harvest crops from spoiling.

    How, around the autumn equinox, there were often huge storms that would come through, so they would stay inside and knit. Those eventually started to get called ¡°knitdays¡± and that was where their word for holiday came from, ¡°knit¡± now sort of meaning ¡°free¡±. Like, if someone asked if you wanted some cake, you could say, ¡°That¡¯s a knitted question,¡± because you obviously do.

    Well, there was probably a better way to explain that. A good thing she was better at it than me.

    The rain fell, fire smouldered, damp clothes dry and no wind to chill us. I already missed the warmth before it had even faded, embers still hot. At the least, the smouldering embers still gave me something to stare at, beautiful in their own way. Especially when she stirred them, the burnt sticks falling apart into a glowing ash of countless fiery pinpricks. If they didn¡¯t burn completely, she held her hand close and made a ring, setting them on fire again until they did, only ash left behind.

    A slow day where there was nothing to do but talk, so talk we did.

 Ch. 25 Where they are going

    What had been a new routine soon became natural. We woke up, set off, foraged as we went, and then slept. Never spent more than a day in the same place, yet everywhere looked so familiar. The same trees, the same plants, the same sounds. Not to mention, the ground underneath a large tree felt the same wherever we were.

    However, I never felt frustrated by that, didn¡¯t feel like we weren¡¯t making progress. My speaking still needed a lot of work, taking me a while to reply when we talked. Listening, I reached the point that I sort of heard everything in her language, not translating it to English to understand it, but I had to think of my answers in English to make sure the tense and gender and all that was right.

    So one day, one week passed, ending up under another tree as another rainy day snuck up on us.

    This time, our camp was rather cosy, an uprooted tree leaving behind a huge hole that had gradually filled in from around it, making for a sort of ditch. Another tree had loosely taken its place, keeping us covered, and the sides of the ditch kept away the breeze that made it through the treetops. Almost like a room.

    Rain fell, the fire crackled, and we sometimes talked, sometimes sat there, plenty of time for me to think all sorts of useless things.

    One thing that kept coming to mind as I watched the pot boil was magic. Since leaving, we hadn¡¯t practised. I¡¯d thought at first it was just because we were busy all day walking and then tired in the evening. Once we slowed down, well, I was so focused on our new routine.

    Seeing her start the fire and partly fill the pot with water, it was fresh in my mind today. I tried to resist, thinking there must have been a reason, but no reason came to me. The only thing that made some sense was she was worried about me burning down the forest. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t practise with water magic, though.

    So I pulled together all my courage and said, ¡°Hyraj?¡±

    She hummed in reply, seeming tired, more sluggish than unhurried in how she turned my way.

    I already wanted to forget about it, the thought of asking her to do anything when she was like this making me feel terrible. But it didn¡¯t have to be today, I told myself, another day fine.

    ¡°I was thought¡ª¡± Stopping myself, I took a breath and tried again. ¡°I was thinking, are we not have magic lessons?¡±

    The silence that followed gave me plenty of time to go over what I¡¯d said and cringe over my mistakes. I hadn¡¯t realised how difficult grammar was until I had to actually learn it.

    ¡°Honestly, I thought you had no more¡­ interest in learning. It is a difficult skill for even the most talented. I thought that¡­ no, that is my mistake,¡± she said, the last part muttered to herself. ¡°Whether or not we have more lessons is up to your wishes.¡±

    I felt a bit better hearing that, knowing that she hadn¡¯t given up on me. ¡°I wish to,¡± I said, trying to be clever and use the same word as her.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she softly said and fell into thought for a moment. ¡°Then, rather than carry on what we had been trying, let us begin at the start,¡± she said, her hands settling into a familiar gesture. ¡°Make a ring with both hands and try to¡­ catch the magic. Although it is always there in knotted threads, they may close their hands and have nothing because magic is not real, so they must first be not real too.¡±

    I would have been lying if I said I understood her explanation, but I doubted there could be a better explanation either. Magic wasn¡¯t easy: she had said that, I had learned that.

    Still, I took some time to think over her words. Magic was always there in knotted threads. I remembered the flash when she had scared off the beast, like a twisting and turning string had joined her wand to the beast. Had she sent magic along that string?

    My thoughts drifting, I went back to her lesson. Touching my forefingers together and my thumbs together, I made the ring, strange doing this without her putting magic in for me. There was no warmth, nothing pushing my hands apart. Sure enough, I tried shrinking the circle, no resistance at any point.

    Back to making a ring, I took in a deep breath and let it out. There was something special about making a ring. At least with fingers, not sure if other body parts worked. A loop and threads. I wished I knew more about knitting, remembering her saying something about how magic threads could be knitted together? Maybe that was just linking them.

    Sighing, I thought that focusing really wasn¡¯t a strength of mine.

    So I stared at the ring and thought of how there was magic inside it. There was magic inside me too, magic from all the plants I had eaten. My vith. Plants I hadn¡¯t just grown from seeds, but had even chosen from which plant to take the seeds, shaping them over and over to be more like what I wanted. Larger kernels for the wheat, longer stems for the reeds. Little by little, changing them¡ªlike magic.

    There was magic inside my hands and inside the ring. All I had to do was make the magic in my hands real, and that would make the magic in the ring real. Or maybe making magic real was what I had been trying to do before.

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    Whatever the ¡°truth¡± was, I just knew I had to make my hands feel like they did when she caught the magic for me. That feeling of resistance, warm, making a loop just inside my skin. A magical circuit.

    Now, if only I knew how.

    The rain fell, our dinner cooked, and I stared at my hands until my stomach rumbled, no progress made. Magic lessons never changed.

    I pushed myself up and scooped out the hichkle, one by one, and squashed them in a bowl, working it into a mash with a bit of wheat and water. We didn¡¯t have much to use, but I had tried to make the most of it. My secret ingredient was added at the end: nuts with an almost garlic taste, mild like it had been roasted. Although I couldn¡¯t make the mash creamy, the bursts of garlic kept it from just being a thicker porridge.

    Hyraj was familiar with the flavour, but didn¡¯t know what exactly it was called, I guessed the same way not everyone would know that the nuts in their salad were pine nuts. Anyway, I had found some dry cones under a tree one evening and thought to check out the seeds. Some work to get them, needing a couple days for the cone to dry, then smashed it open and took out the nut, couple days for that to cure, then cracked open the nut.

    It was a common tree in these parts, so I kept a bunch in my backpack, some always ready to add in. Mostly saved them for the mash, though.

    As for tonight, I charred some fresh beans over the fire, then popped out the peas to go with the mash. A simple mix of carbs and protein. We still usually ate fruit for lunch and porridge for breakfast, but there wasn¡¯t much wheat left. No reason we couldn¡¯t have mash for breakfast¡ªexcept for the part of my brain that was very adamant that foods could only be eaten for certain meals. I was working on ignoring that.

    Dinner ready, I served up for us and we ate in silence. Leaves rustled, the fire crackled, and our spoons clinked against the bowls.

    When things were changing, new and exciting, time moved so fast, then slowed down to a crawl once you were used to it, except that was just how you felt. Time always moved at the same speed. Two and a half weeks, we¡¯d been travelling. It felt like yesterday that the first rain fell. Yesterday was a very busy day, but never as busy as tomorrow.

    My thoughts lingered there even after I finished eating and returned to staring at my hands, clinking behind me as Hyraj washed up. What would tomorrow bring?

    I had avoided asking her so far, not really a reason to. Until we arrived somewhere with people, our routine would stay the same, day after day, week after week. However¡­ I was kind of getting curious. ¡°Where¡± still didn¡¯t matter to me who knew nothing of this world, but the why¡ªwhy Hyraj was going there¡ªinterested me.

    After all, I knew why she had started travelling. Sort of. I hadn¡¯t understood much back then and it wasn¡¯t like I could have memorised the entire monologue. One sentence, sure, but she had talked for a good few minutes.

    To prove herself. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was to herself or to her parents, but she was proving herself. My impression, she was probably from a middle-class family, money to raise her well, but not like they could send people out to look for her. At least, I guessed she ran off.

    Where would she go and what would she do there? I wanted to know. Maybe she knew about the family business, so would open a shop. Maybe a distant relative. Maybe there was some exciting thing like a magic tournament¡ªthat is, a tournament where people used magic. A magical tournament would be amazing too, maybe one where it gave the participants super powers to make it more exciting.

    There I went, letting my imagination get the better of me. A deep breath in, a deep breath out, clearing my mind. It wouldn¡¯t stay clear for long, but better than not even trying to focus.

    The leaves rustled, dying fire crackled, and she clinked behind me, washing up. Magic was between my hands, ready to be caught in the ring of magic I tried to make.

    Not today, though, my tide-like focus coming and going, but nothing ever happening. I gave up when I heard her putting everything away.

    It was funny, feeling this not-quite frustration again. Some part of me didn¡¯t quite believe I could do magic. After all, I was no one special. Hyraj clearly was. If this was a story, there was no doubt in my mind that she was the heroine and I was her plucky sidekick¡ªand I didn¡¯t even know what plucky meant.

    She soon joined me, sitting down with a sigh. I wondered if she hadn¡¯t slept well to be this tired. Usually, she had no trouble getting through the day.

    Thinking of that reminded me of something else I¡¯d found while foraging recently. So I scurried off to my backpack and took out a small bag she had lent me. Well, a spare handkerchief that I¡¯d tied up with a reed string.

    With that in hand, I walked back and offered it to her, asking, ¡°Do you like it?¡±

    She looked at me for a moment, then at the bag. Once she took it, I sat down, watching her. Before she even opened it, I could smell the almost familiar fragrance of lavender.

    ¡°This is frinchnef?¡± Taking out a leaf, she sniffed it, her face a little scrunched as she did. Looked quite cute, really. Like a curious puppy. ¡°To think it came from a mere leaf that grows in the forest,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Is it something strange?¡±

    ¡°I have always known this smell as a powder,¡± she said, scrunching up the leaf between her fingers, juices soon staining her. She sniffed it again, then flicked the leaf into the fire. A moment to clean her fingers on a handkerchief before she just held the bag near her nose.

    Smiling, I said, ¡°I¡¯m glad I help you.¡±

    She tittered, not quite a full laugh. ¡°You have. Whenever I cramped up like this at home, I would have my bedding washed with lavender to help me sleep.¡±

    ¡°Do you cramped a lot?¡± I asked, thinking over if I had seen her like this before.

    ¡°Well, we call this moon sickness because it comes as strangely as the moons do, sometimes months passing before it returns,¡± she said, her other hand resting below her stomach. ¡°It only makes sleep less nice for me.¡±

    I went to nod, but caught myself as I raised my head, clapping with my hand instead. Although I had more I wanted to ask, it seemed rude to pry. Thinking of something else to talk about, though, I could only think of more prying questions.

    So I gave in. ¡°Do you have somewhere you are to travel?¡± I quietly asked, almost hoping she wouldn¡¯t hear.

    But she did, her ears very sharp. ¡°Is it that?¡± she said, then hummed a moment. ¡°We have no place in particular to go. We are to travel until the stormy season is near, then go down and see what we find.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said¡ªa sound that meant nothing but a little amusement to her. She hadn¡¯t told me why yet.

    My question answered, all the things I had imagined collapsed down, leaving nothing more to ask. So I sat in silence with her beside me, the scent of lavender mixing with the dying fire¡¯s smoke and the rain¡¯s scent. Fresh and woody and soothing.

    I hoped she slept soundly tonight, knew that I would.

 Ch. 26 Time flies

    In the forest, every day felt so similar, passing by so quick. I couldn¡¯t blame Hyraj for possibly losing track of the day before she¡¯d found my camp. Even with magic lessons again, each day was mostly just walking while looking out for food and firewood.

    One day, one week slipping past, almost a month since we had left. Walking, always walking. I had thought my chores around the camp left me in good shape, but keeping up with Hyraj left me tired. Not exhausted, not like I struggled, but the hard floor never kept me from falling asleep and I always had an appetite.

    Almost a month since we¡¯d left¡­ half a month until the stormy season. It had a name that didn¡¯t mean anything, much like autumn, but Hyraj always called it the stormy season. The other seasons, winter and spring had sort of archaic names. Winter¡¯s came from an old language¡¯s word for the winter solstice, which was still used even though ¡°winter¡± started after the solstice. Spring¡¯s was to do with a certain flower¡¯s first bloom, but no one knew which flower, especially since the calendar had moved around.

    The other two seasons were summer and autumn, their names meaning more like ¡°dry harvest¡± and ¡°wet harvest¡±; the summer crops were harvested after the relatively dry spring, while the other crops were harvested after the wet stormy season.

    Our conversations were often her saying too much and me asking her to say more. After breakfast today, though, she had something short to say: ¡°We shall be heading downwards now.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    So we packed up and started walking, following the gentle slope, a little slower. I didn¡¯t mind that, knowing all too well from walking with children that going downhill was dangerous once you lost your balance.

    Of course, that danger didn¡¯t mean we couldn¡¯t talk, so I asked, ¡°About the harvest, what food is growed?¡± No worrying about grew or grown with this verb.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she said, her unhurried steps careful. ¡°Well, I did not exactly¡­ cook, but I may say what was commonly served in the seasons. For summer, breads and such made from wheat.¡±

    Her monologue continued, listing foods I didn¡¯t know, but they sounded like normal enough vegetables. When it came to the autumn harvest, one crop caught my ear.

    ¡°Ousickle is grown in fields flooded by the heavy rains and comes out as many small seeds. I told you how hichkle has ¡®kle¡¯, yes? Ousickle is the same. If you see a dish with ¡®kle¡¯ on the end, it likely has ousickle in it.¡±

    That sounded like rice to me! ¡°What does it look like in a dish?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I suppose it is often like a pile of seeds, but soft to eat, lacking flavour on its own,¡± she said slowly. ¡°How I would have it is with¡­ helvith.¡± Meat. ¡°I was taught to have some of one and then the other to emphasise the flavour.

    ¡°Oh, but, that isn¡¯t quite what you asked,¡± she said and paused there to sigh. ¡°Other than as-is, I would say it is most served as a side-porridge. Rather than water, a, let¡¯s see¡­ thin soup is used to give it flavour.¡±

    I wondered if ¡°thin soup¡± meant ¡°stock¡±. At the orphanage, we¡¯d only ever had rice with gravy as a side for a roast. Unless you counted breakfast cereals made from rice¡­.

    ¡°Thin soup is helvith?¡± I asked.

    Her silence answered my question, but she eventually did too. ¡°It can be made from animals and called stock. However, I would not worry about any of your food having helvith in it.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know much about this world, but I knew in my old world that, until like fifty years ago, meat was very expensive. After all, it was biomass again: raising animals took more food than if we just ate their food.

    That conversation coming to an end, we walked in silence. The leaves rustled up high, birds twittered in the distance, and our footsteps crunched on dry leaves; about time for another rain.

    The rain didn¡¯t come this day, though. We made some good distance down the mountain. Until now, I hadn¡¯t really gone far up or down, no farther than half a day¡¯s walk so I could spend the other half walking back. Going up, it was steeper, but I went slower, so not too much of a change.

    Maybe it was all in my head, but it felt warmer and easier to breathe when we stopped to make camp. Tempted to take my shirt off and sit by the fire in just my vest. If this world was old-fashioned, well, I knew Hyraj felt uncomfortable with nudity, so I wasn¡¯t going to do it. Thought about not wearing my vest tomorrow, though.

    We sat and we ate and I spent some time staring at my hands. She had talked a little more to reinforce what she¡¯d told me, but it hadn¡¯t helped. I was being asked to wiggle my ears. Something I knew other people could do, but knew I couldn¡¯t, the sort of thing that didn¡¯t just happen because you wanted it to. At least, that was how I saw it. How I saw magic.

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    I thought that I might never be able to do any magic, never mind fantastic things like her, and that was fine. I didn¡¯t need to be special. If I was going to be living on my own in the forest, then it would have helped. But I wasn¡¯t, was I? I wasn¡¯t going to live in the forest and I wasn¡¯t going to live alone.

    So no, it didn¡¯t matter if I couldn¡¯t do magic. But I kept trying and trying. It was embarrassing to admit, but I wanted her to praise me. Like how she smiled when I learned a new word or said something complicated. Every time she told me how hard magic was, I felt like the praise would be even sweeter when I finally did it.

    Was that weird? Or was I weird before, so desperate for praise, but always telling myself I would never be good enough to be praised?

    Every day, who I had been changed so much, looking back at myself with all kinds of different lenses. Lazy or hard-working, dumb or clever, kind or selfish¡ªI could be neither or both, changing by the minute.

    Although I wasn¡¯t as tired as usual, that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t sleep and so sleep I soon did, the day¡¯s routine over.

    In the morning, the routine began all over again. I had washed my clothes on the last rainy day, so it was just me washing today, using the tiniest bit of soap to save the plants and not waste her stuff.

    The warmth was much more noticeable now, almost pleasant even without clothes. I still put them on, just in case she came back, and sat by the fire. Hopefully, I wouldn¡¯t end up sweating enough to need another bath.

    Just kidding. It was warmer, but not so hot yet. Still, I didn¡¯t sit too close, admiring the flames as the heat barely reached.

    Though I could have gone to find her, this was also a precious time when we weren¡¯t together. I liked being around her well enough, but, growing up in the orphanage, I knew how important space was. Like little grievances built up and up with no release except an explosion.

    Well, I didn¡¯t have any grievances with her, but who knew if I annoyed her in little ways.

    The leaves rustled, birds twittered, fire crackled its last crackles, and eventually footsteps crunched through the leaves. I turned to look, unsurprised to see it was her and her unhurried pace, a few fruits in her arms.

    She sat down next to me and said, ¡°Have some.¡±

    I took one, took a bite, then winced. ¡°Sour,¡± I mumbled with my hand covering my mouth.

    ¡°That is it.¡±

    She used that phrase to mean all kinds of things, but my favourite way she used it was like that, as if saying, ¡°Did I tell you it was sweet?¡± The closest she came to a joke.

    Still, I ate it all. The taste wasn¡¯t like it was off. She did too, taking small bites with more narrowed eyes and a thinner mouth, apparently not a fan of the taste. Kind of cute. Reminded me of kids reluctantly eating the vegetables, afraid of being told off.

    Once she finished, we set off on a long, meandering walk down. Hardly noticeable, but the trees bunched closer and were mostly like pine trees now. I was fine with that, more of the garlic cones to pick up as we went. The air felt thicker too, humid, maybe the warmth keeping more of the recent rain in the air. What breeze did blow down below the trees wasn¡¯t as refreshing as it had been either.

    Small changes that grew as the day went on, maybe all in my head, but I hadn¡¯t noticed anything like it before.

    Sitting around the fire, there wasn¡¯t much point in asking her about it. I knew the air was thinner the higher up you went, gravity pulling it down. Just hadn¡¯t realised how high up we apparently were, or how much elevation actually mattered, the slope so gentle¡­.

    Another evening of cooking, eating, and staring at my hands. Another peaceful sleep beneath the trees, albeit not as close to her as I used to sleep. Too warm for that.

    Morning came and we went, walking down. My thoughts these days were about what life was like in villages here and today was no different. It was just¡­.

    ¡°Do cottages have ovens?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I cannot say.¡±

    She had said that a lot, but it didn¡¯t surprise me she didn¡¯t know about how ¡°poor¡± people lived.

    So we walked and I had a lot of questions in my head, keeping me occupied, step after step. The ground wasn¡¯t always a slope now. At least, not a slope downwards. It sometimes flattened, sometimes sloped to the sides, sometimes up for a little bit. Still mostly down, though.

    I wondered if we¡¯d find a river soon. Something I hadn¡¯t thought about until following the stream by the camp, water had to go down. Like, once a stream started, it had to go all the way to the ocean. You could only get around it by walking all the way up or crossing it.

    But rivers also liked to join together, so, if you followed a river down, you¡¯d definitely end up stuck between two rivers eventually. Hopefully, one would be easy to cross. If not, you had to go up and around.

    My new worry. That, after walking all this way, we would get trapped by rivers and have to go back up.

    What I should have been more worried about was the rain that we were expecting. It thankfully started falling in the afternoon, so we hadn¡¯t wasted a whole day. Used to it by now, we didn¡¯t even say anything, just found a nice spot beneath a tree. More cramped than we were used to, the trees more narrow down here, but enough to keep us dry without a wind to blow the rain under.

    Like last time, I used this break to wash my clothes and she unhurriedly scurried off.

    I wondered what our routine would be like once we found a village. If I would still cook and she would still wash up, if we would take turns doing all the washing or split it between us like now, if we would both work or if I would be stuck at home, sewing and knitting to pass the days.

    Well, I would have to learn how to knit first¡­.

    When she returned, I was back in my fresh clothes, her things neatly on top of her backpack, and she had some fruit in her arms. Not sour this time.

    I thought about asking her what our future would be like, curious how she saw it. But I didn¡¯t ask. The more I had thought about it, the more an old voice spoke up, saying, ¡°What if she doesn¡¯t want to stay together?¡±

    Maybe she was being kind and bringing me to civilisation, but not so kind to babysit me afterwards. Maybe she only wanted me to come along to make it safer and easier to get through the forest. I didn¡¯t know and, if I asked her, that wonderful little future I had imagined might have come crashing down.

    So I didn¡¯t ask, but I slept a little closer to her when night came.

 Ch. 27 Civilisation

    I hadn¡¯t understood what the stormy season really meant until the morning. Even after starting in the afternoon and going all through the night, it still drizzled in the morning, ground marshy. With the building heat, I couldn¡¯t imagine how unbearable the humidity would soon be. No vest today.

    Watching the drops falling down between the trees, I asked, ¡°Will we wait for rain to stop?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer immediately. ¡°We would rather walk through this than a downpour if we do not find somewhere to stay before the next rain,¡± she said, no worry in her voice despite what she¡¯d said. Always unhurried, always calm¡ªexcept when there was reason not to be.

    ¡°That is it,¡± I said. A habit I had started because I found it quite cute whenever she said it. As common as it was in her language, to me, thinking of it in English, it sounded childish. Like intentionally saying a phrase wrong.

    Of course, she didn¡¯t care. It was a normal thing for her to hear. So it was a secret ¡°joke¡±, just for me.

    Nothing else to say on the matter, she put out the fire, then readied to leave. I sighed, staring at the ashes for a moment. Our wheat had finally run out. I had rationed the last of it to make hichkle mash for breakfast, more sense to have carbs in the morning, but that was over. Didn¡¯t want to have garlic in it, so it was completely plain hichkle mash from now on.

    Picking up my backpack basket, I followed her, heart heavy. The wheat hadn¡¯t really added much to the mash, but, when I had tried plain mash before, it ended up thin, which felt wrong to me. Although I was sure I would get used to it, it was hard to not put my old expectations of food onto the stuff in this world.

    Finally clearing the silly thoughts, I focused on walking, the sounds loud today as we squelched and the rain dripped into puddles, insects noisier too, maybe safe from birds for now.

    A gentle slope, but that didn¡¯t mean it was easy, my foot often trying to slip out from under me. After struggling with that, I watched how Hyraj walked with shorter steps, her posture more relaxed than usual, and tried to copy. The shorter steps obviously helped a lot, making me feel stupid for not realising sooner. As for posture¡­ it took me a while to feel the difference, sort of keeping my arms low, but not slouching.

    I wondered where she¡¯d learned this¡ªif she had learned this. For all I knew, it came naturally to her, gifted at these subtle kinds of sporty things. Maybe athletic fit better? If she had proper shoes, I was sure she could be a cross-country runner.

    So my thoughts drifted, not needing to focus as much, and the morning passed. After a short break to eat some fruit and drink water and do what needed to be done after drinking a lot of water, we set off again.

    Oh we stopped a lot to drink water these hot, muggy days.

    The drizzle didn¡¯t quite want to give up until the afternoon, almost a full day, clouds finally breaking, sunshine trickling through. If this was only the start of the stormy season, I understood why she didn¡¯t want to wait. But then¡­ we had spent so long walking across¡ªcouldn¡¯t we have come down sooner?

    A question I didn¡¯t want to ask her, either the answer obvious or maybe the question would come off as judging or rude. Not every question needed to be asked.

    Finding firewood was tricky, everything on the floor soaked, but there were enough dead branches on trees to grill some beans, stuffing the garlic nuts in for flavour. A small dinner compared to what I¡¯d eaten back at my camp, but it was enough. Or rather, like potatoes, hichkle seemed full of calories, a good portion in the morning keeping me going the whole day.

    So we had a small dinner, settled down on the dry spot under the tree, and slept. Who knew how many more nights we would sleep like that.

    Another day, the same routine, ground still muddy and air still muggy. As much as a ¡°rush¡± as we were in, I was glad she still gave me time to wash. If not, well, she was the one who would have to suffer the sweaty stink¡­.

    Maybe not entirely selfless of her to let me bathe.

    Anyway, we walked and walked, then walked some more. After lunch, we were ready to walk the rest of the day. So we set off, walking and walking, not much talking, quieter since the rain fell. The ground wasn¡¯t too muddy by now, but there were patches and¡ª

    ¡°Stop.¡±

    I tried, but my heart pounded, her sudden command bringing me back to when the weird horse-beast stalked us. She hadn¡¯t told me to run this time¡­.

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    Listening, it wasn¡¯t unnaturally quiet either. Distant birds still twittered. She didn¡¯t reach for her wand, instead standing still. Standing and looking.

    I followed where, not seeing anything at first, taking a good few seconds to realise sticks didn¡¯t pile themselves up like that.

    ¡°We should be close to somewhere,¡± she said and carried on.

    Part of me felt drawn to investigate the camp, but it wasn¡¯t like we were hunting down criminals or anything like that, just travellers. No reason to think whoever had made that fire was a criminal either.

    So we carried on walking, but there was more weight to every step now. My heart thumped with thoughts of being separated and hopes of being together. It wasn¡¯t just that she was the only person I knew here, or that she¡¯d shown me a lot of kindness, but that I liked her.

    It felt awkward to put it so bluntly, but it was true. She put up with me and all my weird quirks and not because she had to rely on me. Like, it wasn¡¯t a coincidence I had no friends. That I spent my free time at school alone and at the orphanage looking after the little ones.

    Maybe she had her own reasons, maybe she didn¡¯t like me, but it was nice being around someone who politely tolerated me.

    So I walked with that weight in every step. We walked, no other real signs of people as went. There were snapped sticks and sort of foraged bushes, but nothing as blatant as the fire, no footprints either. Must have camped there before the rain.

    Evening came, our travelling stopped. I half-heartedly stared at my hands while I cooked, not trying to do magic¡ªhad to keep turning the beans so they wouldn¡¯t burn over the fire¡ªbut thinking I wouldn¡¯t be able to concentrate at all when I did try.

    If she noticed I was distracted, she didn¡¯t mention it. Why would she? This wasn¡¯t the kind of thing we talked about, more like student and teacher than friends. Her interest only started after seeing I could do maths.

    Ah, maybe that was what this was all about. If she was going to start a business, she needed someone who could do the accounting, and I was so indebted to her, of course I would do it for free as long as I had a bed and food.

    She wouldn¡¯t be wrong thinking that. I was used to paying for kindness with usefulness.

    ¡°Louise.¡±

    A single word, stern, and I snapped out of the state I was working myself into. In front of me, the pods were brown with the smell of burning in the air. I jerked them away, one falling off the fork, landing in the fire. Not thinking, I reached out and¡ª

    She grabbed my hand, held it tight, painful. But that pain cut through the haze and calmed me. We stayed like that for a while; I was in no rush to ask her to let go, something comforting about having my hand squeezed like that. No wonder the kids liked it.

    ¡°Are you that excited to find a village?¡± she asked, no humour in her voice or blame. Level as always, unhurried.

    But I wanted to laugh at how badly she had misunderstood my mood. Couldn¡¯t, though. As funny as it was, it only brought out a smile, my mood apparently much darker than I¡¯d realised.

    ¡°Is it that?¡± I muttered. Her hand let go of me and it was all I could do to not grab it right back. I swallowed the urge, breathed out. ¡°There are many things I don¡¯t know and it is lots to think about.¡±

    ¡°Then do not think about them,¡± she said. No humour in her voice, no blame, just her unhurried sincerity for her genuine advice.

    A single laugh slipped out, then the wave of humour was swallowed by the darkness. ¡°I wished it was simple that.¡± Even before I finished, I cringed at how I¡¯d mangled the sentence.

    ¡°It is that simple. What is not known may be learned, what good happens may be cherished, what bad happens may be reacted to with grace and dignity,¡± she said.

    ¡°Is that¡­ something your family saying?¡± I said, ill-equipped to ask the question I wanted to.

    She shooed with her hand. ¡°Have you truly come from such a distant place that you do not even know the Jichin Canon?¡± she asked, and I wasn¡¯t entirely sure if I was supposed to answer.

    But I did. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, clapping my hand.

    Silence followed. She reached over and took a fork from me, a silent signal to eat, so I did. One pod had fallen, but I cooked four at a time. While she ate her second one, I cooked more, careful to only lightly char them this time. Needed to steam the peas a bit and soften the garlic nuts.

    After we finished eating, not much to wash up, she sat with me by the fire. I pretended to try and do magic, too out of it to actually try. Nothing happened and yet I felt so tired. Drained.

    ¡°What is not known may be learned,¡± she said. I froze up, confused, but she carried on with the other two lines, then said, ¡°Repeat them after me. What is¡­.¡±

    I lowered my hands and dutifully did as told, the lines simple enough to remember. ¡°¡­ with grace and dignity.¡±

    ¡°Very good. Try and memorise them,¡± she said, giving my hand a pat, then she stood up to make our bed.

    I sat there and dutifully repeated the sentences to myself, over and over, ignoring the rustling of her movements, the crackle of the fire, the smell of smoke in the air. Memorising wasn¡¯t easy for me, but I could easily try until I burned the words into my head.

    Over and over as I lay beside her, hot, but unwilling to sleep farther away, knowing we might soon be apart. Cherishing the good, reacting to the bad with grace and dignity.

    Who knew how many times I repeated those sentences before I fell asleep, but I slept well once I did, comforted.

    In the morning, it was just another day. The same routine. Walking, walking on and on, down the slope. The scenery always changed, always looked the same. At the least, it wasn¡¯t muddy now, easy to walk. Still muggy, though. We drank a lot more water than we did before.

    One hour, two, who knew, time all about glimpses through the canopy to see if the sun was above us or if it grew dark with sunset. We walked and walked through the trees.

    Until the trees finally broke, a field and a road in front of us.

    It took me a long moment to realise, not like we hadn¡¯t come across clearing before or rocky patches where trees struggled to grow. A field, hoed or tilled or whatever it was called, lines of dirt where something had been planted. Reddish dirt, something I hadn¡¯t thought about since back at the camp. The top layer might have looked brown, maybe from dead leaves and stuff, but it had a rusty look underneath.

    ¡°We should be close,¡± Hyraj said and started walking.

    I followed.

 Ch. 28 Not home

    It was not a good road, just dirt, but it was funny how something natural could be such a clear sign of civilisation. Even the field had no fence, just a patch of cleared ground. The unnatural absence of nature the sign. After all, it wasn¡¯t like a squirrel would chop down this patch of trees, nor would deer stomp along the same path, over and over, until grass didn¡¯t dare grow.

    We walked, quicker now there was no slope, no roots, no mud. I walked beside her, close with how narrow the road was. It was sometimes wider, sometimes narrow, not always even.

    I thought it would take a while to get to the village. In my head, fields were these huge, sprawling things that covered the whole countryside. Needed to make enough food for everyone for the whole year.

    But this was a different world, many things about it different to what I knew. Although the field was large, it had an end, maybe an hour¡¯s walk at a brisk pace. At the end of it, a village.

    Sort of.

    The forest on one side, empty field on the other, and a signpost at its corner. Once we reached it, it pointed down the slope where a wider road ran, sandwiched between this field and another. Far off in the distance, some blocky things that I thought must be houses.

    ¡°Huckfild,¡± Hyaj muttered.

    Confused by the unfamiliar word, I turned, saw her looking at the sign. Ah, the village¡¯s name. ¡°We¡¯re going there?¡±

    ¡°That it is,¡± she said, taking the first step.

    After stopping for even just this brief moment, it felt so hard to move again. I forced myself to go before she noticed and I started repeating the apparently religious mantra she¡¯d taught me. At least, I thought it was a mantra?

    However, before I¡¯d even managed to think it once, she began lecturing me. ¡°Fild is an ending that means¡­ a farming village¡ª¡± She paused her explanation there to teach me the verb ¡°to manage¡±, then carried on. ¡°A farming village managed by a family. At least, that was how it began and it hasn¡¯t grown large enough to¡­ be given another name.¡±

    She went on to explain some other kinds of villages, but my attention kept drifting to the distant buildings which grew that little bigger with every step.

    We walked, quicker now there was a slope, nothing on it to trip us, not muddy either. I noticed the grass and weeds weren¡¯t as purplish out here. After spending so much time in the forest, I wasn¡¯t really sure what normal was, though. They were maybe too dark of a green, more like moss than grass. The more I looked, the more I thought I could see tinges of navy blue to them, maybe a trick of the light.

    A sudden silence, I turned and saw Hyraj looking at me. Realising I had stopped listening entirely, a rush of embarrassment swallowed me whole, all I could do to not look away guiltily.

    Rather than chastise me, she softly smiled. ¡°That excited?¡± she asked, whispered¡ªlike she was talking to a child about a secret.

    No room for me to feel indignant after ignoring her like that, I went to shake my head, but caught myself mid-shake. A quick breath, then I shooed with my hand. ¡°Nervous?¡± I said, unsure I remembered the right word, not one we ever used when talking. In fact, I only knew it because it was in the book she used to teach me to read.

    ¡°Is is that?¡± she said, looking ahead again. ¡°Well, there is no need for you to speak. I may arrange everything.¡±

    Focused out of guilt, I dutifully listened as she explained that it would be simplest if she introduced me as her maid. Well, how she explained it sounded less like a servant, but, like, nobility stuff wasn¡¯t something I knew about, so maid it was.

    And while she talked, I forgot to feel anxious. What good luck.

    So we walked and she talked and the village gradually came into view, old houses with thatched roofs, black with grime and bits of moss, patches where parts had been replaced. Cottages, no second storey, but not too small and some looked close enough together to be one house. The walls weren¡¯t made of mud either. Stones and rocks with thick layers of cement between them, also dyed with grime and dirt.

    There was no pattern to how they were arranged, not like they were neatly lined up along a road. There was an open patch in the middle of them all that they loosely made a wobbly oval around, but there were some farther out, maybe twenty in total, or a few more, and some sort of sheds and things that I didn¡¯t think people lived in.

    Eventually, the children playing in the middle noticed us. It was funny seeing it spread, the running about and laughing coming to a stop, a couple running off¡ªto tell an adult, I presumed.

    Everything feeling more real by the step, I wished I could hold her hand right now, missing that comfort.

    By the time we reached the buildings, a few people were waiting and they didn¡¯t look pleased or upset to see us. Maybe cautious? Seemed like they didn¡¯t get many visitors out here. Hyraj came to a stop, so I did too, resisting the urge to hide behind her.

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    It wasn¡¯t like dealing with people scared me, but, well, I had sort of fallen into a childish role, following her without question. I understood now why the little ones often hid behind me whenever I stopped to talk to one of the old grannies in our neighbourhood.

    Who knew what they might ask, that I might say the wrong thing, so talk to Hyraj and ignore me.

    While I holed up in my head, a pair of older women shuffled forwards and started talking to Hyraj. I could loosely follow some of the conversation. At least, on Hyraj¡¯s side. I quickly realised that their accent made it hard for me to follow. While Hyraj said every sound ¡°properly¡±, the women sort of slurred some sounds and a lot of the throaty sounds came out soft, easily confused with ¡°sh¡± and ¡°ch¡±.

    Struggling, I looked up at them to see if watching their mouths would help. It didn¡¯t really. As much as they talked, their mouths barely moved at all and that was maybe why the sounds came out so similar.

    Then something clicked. I stared at their faces and they were like mine, darker, but the same kind of colour. Not just tanned like Spanish or Greek people.

    Entranced, Hyraj had to shake my elbow to pull me out of it. ¡°Would you introduce yourself?¡± she whispered, leaning in.

    Her breath tickled my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. Properly woken up, I breathed in and, recalling her instructions, said, ¡°I am their maid, Louise.¡±

    The two women shared a look before offering small smiles. ¡°My¡¯s Jersha,¡± one said¡ªhow I understood what she had said.

    ¡°My¡¯s Peleh,¡± the other said.

    ¡°Pleased to meet you,¡± I said and, rather than bow or curtsy, I gave a sort of salute. Hyraj¡¯s culture was apparently big on talking with their hands.

    They smiled again, but didn¡¯t return the salute. A rush of embarrassment, I awkwardly lowered my hand, forcing a smile.

    In unspoken agreement, they turned back to Hyraj and continued talking. Again, I didn¡¯t catch much, but noticed they also spoke much quicker than Hyraj and, half the time, they were talking to each other rather than her. I guessed it was something like: ¡°We haven¡¯t had visitors for months, have we Peleh?¡± ¡°Oh no, not since the new year and Bob¡¯s uncle came down with his kids, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    However, Hyraj was never pulled into their pace. Always unhurried. So I understood that they were talking about the nearby villages and somewhere to stay tonight¡ªat least, Hyraj was. That she sometimes had to ask the same question in a different way made me think the women really were only half talking to her.

    Behind them, I noticed the children had crept closer. Not close, but now only like ten paces away, huddled behind a tangled bush. I guessed children didn¡¯t really change no matter the world. Catching some of their eye, I smiled. Oh a couple dove down, one slid over to hide behind the cottage¡¯s corner, a pair of girls (sisters, I thought) giggled and did the one-handed clap like they were nodding? Maybe it wasn¡¯t quite the same as just nodding.

    That ruckus got the attention of the other adults standing around and they went over to shoo away the children, tutting and standing there with their hands on their hips afterwards. Maybe people didn¡¯t change too much either.

    While I was focused on that, Hyraj finished up the conversation and pulled me into a walk, following the two women as they kept chattering. Going past the group of adults, they called on one¡ªFesa, it sounded like, which meant she was called Flower?¡ªand she joined us too.

    ¡°They have a room for us,¡± Hyraj whispered to me.

    ¡°That is it,¡± I said, nothing else coming to mind.

    So we walked, the only interesting thing I noticed that none of the buildings looked special. If there was no church, wasn¡¯t this more of a hamlet? Oh, but, did they even have churches? Anyway, it didn¡¯t matter.

    In front of the houses were bushes that I thought might be herbs or berries, the odd crudely-made chair and bench, and some kids toys and games. Hand-made dolls that looked like carved wood with rags for clothes, wooden balls covered in dirt, a game like tossing horseshoes or maybe darts? Whatever it was, there was a pole in the floor and large darts (or tiny javelins) around it.

    We walked to the far side of the open patch and beyond, going between two cottages. Behind them was a shed. On the large side, but still clearly made with planks of wood, including the roof. There weren¡¯t even glass windows¡ªsomething the cottages did have¡ªjust what looked like a hatch?

    Still, it was better than the ground beneath a tree.

    Hyraj thanked them and I did too, resisting the urge to bow, and we stepped inside. It looked bigger than I¡¯d thought, probably because the walls were so thin. There was a bed inside, made of wood and straw it seemed, with a thick blanket. I touched it, the feeling not like wool. Maybe they used the reeds for fabric or grew something else?

    Other than the bed, there was a small table and a chair for it, apparently a room for one person. Indeed, the bed was a single¡­.

    ¡°I¡¯ll sleep on the floor,¡± I said.

    She opened the window-flap thing and sat down at the table, slipping her backpack off onto the ground, no reaction at all to my statement¡ªexcept that I noticed she clapped her hand. A small relief that I wouldn¡¯t have to ¡°fight¡± her over this.

    But then I wasn¡¯t sure what to do, neither walking nor making a camp and that was all I knew these days. Already by the bed, I took off my backpack and sat down. It wasn¡¯t really cushioning. Warm, though, I thought. The same as Hyraj¡¯s mattress thing. Sleeping on the ground really was a lot colder than sleeping on straw.

    As I fiddled, she just sat there. I looked over and realised her eyes were closed. It hadn¡¯t seemed like a stressful conversation, but I didn¡¯t know what stressed her. Or maybe she was just collecting her thoughts. This was a huge change for us, different worries. I knew that very well and tried to ignore them.

    Well, that seemed to be it given what she said next: ¡°We shall only stay this night.¡±

    ¡°The stormy season?¡± I weakly said, unsure how exactly to phrase what I wanted to say.

    She understood. ¡°Other places should be within a day¡¯s walk,¡± she said, then sighed. ¡°This place is too poor to stay for longer.¡±

    It was blunt, but I could sort of understand. You had to make do when you were in the middle of nowhere. Now, some of her daily comforts were in arm¡¯s reach, so of course she wanted to reach out for them.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    After a moment, she reached into her bag and took out her book, the first time in a while she had the chance to read it. I watched for a bit, something comforting about it. Reminded me of being back at the camp where it had felt like our home. Travelling together was fine, but it wasn¡¯t the same as back then.

    This room wasn¡¯t the same. It wasn¡¯t ours, wasn¡¯t a home. A shelter for the night and nothing more.

 Ch. 29 Moving on

    True to Hyraj¡¯s word, we only stayed that one night. It was a comfortable night. The family who owned the shed cooked for us, maybe exchanged a better word, giving them some of our forage. A warm meal of stewed vegetables and stale bread. Not stale as in, like, growing mould or anything, maybe even just baked in the morning. I knew modern sliced bread had preservatives and stuff to keep it fresh for a week.

    Anyway, we ate alone in the shed, table moved over to the bed for another seat, and we used the outhouse, and borrowed a candle. Altogether, being there was¡­ weird. Not quite like being back in civilisation.

    In the morning, we set off. She thanked them and everything and we started walking. She told me where we were heading, but it was just a name that meant nothing to me: Hichdrej. Of course, she then gave me the meaning.

    ¡°I would say the ¡®Hich¡¯ part comes from the farming communities around here, perhaps a significant exporter of hichjalt and hichkle, while the ¡®drej¡¯ means that it is large enough for a jitern. Ah, that is a small group of people who manage the village.¡±

    So like a village council.

    Her lesson continued as we followed the not-quite-straight path down the slope, fields on either side, air thick and sun hot.

    It was something I hadn¡¯t thought about at all yesterday, but the people of the village I¡¯d seen all wore hats. Mostly like a square of cloth, tied on somehow, trailing down to cover the neck. That made sense if they spent a lot of time outside.

    As for us, well, the goddess didn¡¯t give me a hat, so I had none. Hyraj had spent most of the time under trees; only for meals back at the camp was where she¡¯d spent time under the sun. Not for long at lunchtime, though, breakfast and dinner when she had to wash up.

    Now, she had a hat. Hard to see it well while walking next to her and her being taller, but, from some glances, it looked kind of like a flattened bowler hat. A dark colour, small brim, probably quite firm, keeping a round shape. Oh, but there was a maroon ribbon around it, tied into a bow on the side, near the front. Pretty, but formal.

    My attention slipping, I faced ahead and focused on her lesson which was about the kinds of shops you would find in larger places¡ªor maybe professions was more correct? Stuff like carpenters and blacksmiths. Well, not blacksmiths, apparently a ton of different kinds of people who worked with metal¡­.

    It took a while to pass the first field, nothing to see growing in it. The next field was more interesting with a fence around it, wild grass and weeds growing up it; on the other side, some shoots popped through, but nothing I recognised. That was kind of obvious, not like farmers would grow wild vegetables.

    Once my curiosity died down, it was hard to ignore how tired I felt. Or not tired, but breathless, but not out of breath? My head felt cloudy, body weird. We hadn¡¯t been walking long, though, so asking to stop¡­.

    I pushed myself to keep going. It wasn¡¯t like I couldn¡¯t walk or anything, just that I felt not quite right. One foot after another, step by step, eyes on the floor to make sure I didn¡¯t trip over anything. If I fell down, I wasn¡¯t sure I could get back up.

    One minute, two, three¡ª

    ¡°Louise!¡±

    The sound coming from behind me, I slowed to a stop, then looked beside me, but Hyraj wasn¡¯t there. A panic struggled through the fluff filling my head, the chill that ran through me awfully pleasant, so hot, sweating.

    ¡°Louise!¡±

    Her voice and her hand, touching mine. It pulled me and I followed, feet listening to her, walking over to the shade beneath a rare tree out here. It wasn¡¯t that there were none, but there were a lot less than in the forest, scattered along the edge of the path and the path often weaving around them. A different kind of tree. It wasn¡¯t like an oak with wide leaves or a pine with needles, but more like a palm? A long trunk with no branches, then a bushy top, hard to see the shape of the leaves with the sun behind them.

    Before I could get a good look, she covered my eyes with her hand and pulled me closer to the trunk. Getting sort of rough, she pushed me down and held me there as if expecting me to try and escape.

    I didn¡¯t.

    She hesitantly let go of me and moved back a pace and, after staring at me for a few seconds, slipped off her backpack. With a cup out, she made a ring with her hand, water flowing down, filling it.

    ¡°Drink,¡± she said.

    I didn¡¯t feel thirsty, but she told me to and that moment I¡¯d turned and she wasn¡¯t there was still fresh in my mind, willing to do anything she asked. So I took the cup and reluctantly brought it to my lips, expecting to find the water warm.

    But it wasn¡¯t.

    So cold I almost flinched, I sipped it, a horrible reminder that my teeth were sensitive to the cold, months of not using special toothpaste making it painful, but I drank through the pain. It felt like there was no end to the water in the cup, gulping in air when I finished, wincing, next breath coming out in shudders.

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    Then she rustled, pulling over my attention. She was going into her backpack again. The pain had cleared my head a bit, but I still wasn¡¯t thinking, just reacting. Watching her with curiosity as she took out a coarser cloth, kind of like a muslin hand towel, and some things which were halfway between pins and knitting needles.

    ¡°You truly are helpless,¡± she muttered so softly I thought I wasn¡¯t supposed to hear it. Maybe I hadn¡¯t, making up the sounds as I stared at her lips, thinking they looked dry. How I wished I had a lip balm for her to use, how nice they would look with lip gloss. Never used any myself, but I understood now, lips something people looked at when they talked, so it was nice to decorate them.

    While my strange thoughts meandered, she shuffled behind me and played with my hair. I thought nothing of it, something I had let the little ones do often, practice for doing their own hair.

    It certainly felt like she didn¡¯t know what she was doing. Thinking about it, I had only seen her wear her hair in a ponytail with that clip. I guessed from the feeling she was trying to make a bun¡ªand failing.

    ¡°Let me,¡± I said, the words slipping out in English.

    Still, she understood when my hands came up and she let go. With practised ease, I brushed my hair into a loose ponytail and then started twisting it, twisting the hair and twisting it around, coiling it into a bun. Memories of the little ones practising ballet in the lounge, some big performance on the TV.

    No hair ties or anything, I just held the bun for her to do whatever she was trying to do. After a few seconds, her hand touched mine, took over holding. The towel covered the back of my head, ticklish on my neck as it fluttered around with her movements. Eventually, her hands moved away from my head, everything staying in place.

    My thoughts coming easier now, I reached up and felt the hair pins. Three. One probably would have done fine, I thought, but I didn¡¯t know how to use them. Sort of Chinese-style ones, not like bobby pins.

    Maybe she could tell I was feeling better because she finally spoke to me. ¡°Tell me if the heat is too much,¡± she said, not quite so unhurried and level, a hint of chiding to it.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, my hand coming down to rest on my lap as I bowed my head. Suitably chided.

    She stayed standing behind me for a moment, then walked around to sit beneath the tree a step away from me, yet the narrow trunk meant that was almost the other side of it. ¡°I apologise I cannot offer you a better hat,¡± she said¡ªtaking a moment to point at her own hat and teach me the word.

    Always time for a lesson.

    ¡°Sorry I don¡¯t have my own hat,¡± I said back, awkwardly smiling.

    Before we set off, she had me drink another few cups of water¡ªwarmer this time, now in the frame of mind to explain it to her. Drank so much we barely walked half an hour before I needed to squat behind a bush. But I was grateful, pretty annoyed with myself for getting heatstroke. Every summer, that was always on my mind, making the kids drink their own weight in water, but here I was, so used to the trees¡¯ shade, forgetting the stormy season was still summery.

    Even with her now-frequent stops to drink, her brisk pace kept us moving, one field becoming the next. This one also had a fence and shoots, but they were definitely different plants: the last ones stuck up with a white tip while these ones were purplish and lay on the soil.

    In the sky, the sun rose and rose until it was right above us, shadows small. I wondered if we were going to stop for lunch, but we didn¡¯t have any fruit to eat today. My question was soon answered when we rounded a curve in the path and a village came into sight.

    Something I hadn¡¯t thought about before, a field could only really be so far from a village, right? Farmers didn¡¯t have cars or tractors here, at least from what I¡¯d seen. If the field was half a day¡¯s walk, then they¡¯d have to walk back as soon as they got there. We hadn¡¯t set out right at dawn and half the fields should have ¡°belonged¡± to the other village, so about a quarter¡¯s day walk to get to the end of the field?

    My mind full of useless maths, we walked ever closer. A bigger village, but not really by much, a little more sprawled, some cottages looking newish. The same sort of ¡°greeting¡± played out too. There were some older kids¡ªyoung teens, I thought¡ªat the edge of the village, lounging under a damaged not-palm tree that had fallen over, then grown back up, making a natural bench. They were the ones who called the adults, a gathering there by the time we arrived. It was a trio of older women this time to greet us and eventually arrange a place to stay for Hyraj and me.

    While that went on, I paid more attention to everyone¡¯s hats and hair. I was right in thinking everyone wore something. What the women wore weren¡¯t quite like what I remembered, though, actually sort of bonnets without the big brim? Loose cloth hats that tied under their chins, but also with long backs to cover the neck. As for the boys¡ªthere were no men around¡ªthey had something more like Hyraj¡¯s hat, hard to see when they weren¡¯t standing in front of us. Maybe a starched cap? Their shirts had high collars, maybe to cover their necks, maybe just the fashion. Well, I was only focused on necks because I knew it was easy to forget to put sunscreen on the back of them.

    Belatedly, I noticed they also looked like me. The last village wasn¡¯t just an extended family from somewhere distant. All of them, some a bit darker, some a bit lighter, but a similar shade.

    It felt strange. Not good, not bad, just strange.

    I tried not to focus on it, instead tried to take in as much as I could. After all, the more I knew, the better I could eventually fit in. So I tried to see if the women wore any particular make-up, if they plucked their eyebrows.

    One thing I did notice was that a girl¡¯s bonnet came loose and so she took it off for a moment to fix it. Underneath, it looked like her hair was braided and then folded up, a hair pin like Hyraj had used keeping it in place.

    Our housing was a little different this time, a spare room in an old lady¡¯s cottage. From what I picked up, her only daughter had married out a long time ago, but the old lady kept the room ready in case her daughter came to visit. From our guide¡¯s tone, I guessed that hadn¡¯t ever happened.

    Regardless, the old lady happily greeted us, the young women next door happily cooked for us as well, and our room was nicer than the shed. Far from fancy, but nicer.

    Once the door closed, I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realised I was holding, tension leaving with it. A busy day, it felt like.

    Oh, except it wasn¡¯t the end of the day, was it?

    ¡°Are we going travel more?¡± I asked.

    Hyraj answered my question by how she put down her backpack and slipped her hat into it. ¡°No. Let us rest today, still a few days until any storms should roll in.¡±

    I felt embarrassed again, thinking she was being mindful of me, but it was one thing to think it, another to have her say as much, so I kept my words to myself and settled down on the bed.

    ¡°We shall leave early tomorrow that we reach the next village before midday and rest through the heat, so sleep well tonight.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I whispered, idly clapping my hand.

 Ch. 30 Somewhere almost familiar

    After a rare relaxing day, we set off at dawn. I had a lot on my mind as we walked at Hyraj¡¯s brisk pace. While she had taken the time to read, I had sat with the old lady for a good chunk of the afternoon, listening to her waffle on.

    It was hard to tell if it was because they were getting, well, senile, or if they just didn¡¯t care any more, but old people really liked to say the most outrageous things with a nostalgic smile. She told me how her father would beat her mother until one day when her brother broke her father¡¯s nose and almost strangled him to death; she was seven, watching through the cupboard doors where her mother had her hide to keep safe from her father¡¯s temper.

    That story was followed by how her own husband had proposed, a lanky young lad with a bouquet of frinchnef¡ªlavender¡ªas she was a few months pregnant and it was the only fragrant flower that didn¡¯t make her nauseous. It wasn¡¯t exactly subtle how she only spoke of her mother¡¯s and siblings¡¯ reaction to him asking for permission to marry.

    There were many other stories not quite so extreme, meandering, filled with words I didn¡¯t know, but that was fine. She just wanted to say them, I didn¡¯t need to understand or even listen. That said, I tried. I wanted to know more about what living in this world was like and I wanted her to not be forgotten.

    It was¡­ a sad thing, I thought, how people didn¡¯t like their children talking to old people. Of course, children didn¡¯t need to know the outrageous stories, but there was something good in knowing that no family was perfect or normal or even ordinary. There was an unmarried uncle who lived with his lifelong friend, an older sister who was actually a mother and no one knew who the father was, a cousin who was in jail and would hopefully stay there for good.

    Maybe I was wrong, though. Of course someone without a family would think any family was better than nothing. At the least, all that listening had helped me understand the local accent much better.

    After mulling over everything through the morning, midday approaching, we stopped for a water break and I had one thing on my mind.

    Reaching back, I idly stroked the ¡°bonnet¡± the old lady had given me. Not much different to the muslin-like hand towel Hyraj had made me wear, just with some stitching to make it hat-shaped and two strips to tie under my chin. Underneath it, I had twisted my hair into a bun, but left loose inside the hat since Hyraj¡¯s hair pins were too big to fit.

    ¡°Drink,¡± Hyraj said, offering me a cup.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. Not felsinneo, but just sinneo, something I had picked up from the old lady. Well, she said it with a slight slur. Paying more attention to this sort of thing, I noticed that, if anything, Hyraj said felsinneo with a slight lisp; not all words, just a few of the polite terms she¡¯d taught me. It made me think there was maybe an etiquette thing going on.

    Finishing the cup of water, I pushed the pointless thoughts away and focused up.

    ¡°Hyraj, is it¡­ usual to wear your hair in a certain way?¡± I asked, the word for ¡°normal¡± escaping me.

    ¡°Is it that? Well, I suppose for most it is the butterfly braid,¡± she said, taking a detour to explain the word for butterfly (or what sounded like a butterfly to me). ¡°It is a braid that is folded up, then held in place with a bow, the ribbon making a loop on both sides.¡± She loosely gestured as she spoke as if drawing in the air.

    I resisted the urge to nod along, tapping my forefinger and thumb to help, then fell into thought. We sat for a while, cooling off in the shade.

    Once she felt like we¡¯d rested enough, she stood up, saying, ¡°Carry on.¡±

    ¡°Can I¡ªno, do you want me to¡­ wear your hair in a butterfly braid?¡± I asked.

    She paused in the middle of picking up her backpack, almost funny how she stayed like that with her knees bent and leaning over. After a few seconds, she finished the motion and said, ¡°There is no need.¡±

    But I felt like there was. ¡°I think the people look at you, so I want to help,¡± I said, struggling for the words I knew so intimately, but had never had to explain before. The feeling of being looked at like you weren¡¯t really a person. Whether because of my skin colour or because of being a woman¡ªor because of being so young while leading around a child. The tension, hoping they wouldn¡¯t make a scene, relief once their gaze was gone.

    Another pause, one second passing, two¡ª

    ¡°Very well, then,¡± she whispered and slipped her backpack off again. Before she sat down in front of me, she took off her hat and undid the ribbon on it. ¡°Use this.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    For the second time, I braided her hair, admired how nice it still was. I tied her ponytail with the ribbon, then braided it, then used her strange clip to secure the end and redid the ribbon, trying to make it into the perfect ¡°butterfly¡± bow. A little tug here, a little pull here, getting the wings even.

    Pretty. With her hat back on, it reminded me of the hair buns I saw horse riders wear¡ªthe posh ones. But this looked more childish. Well, not childish, kind of girly. Feminine.

    It didn¡¯t really matter what I thought, so I shuffled back. ¡°Done.¡±

    Her hand came up, feeling it. Unlike last time, she couldn¡¯t pull the braid over her shoulder to glimpse at it, so this was the best she could do. Facing away from me, I couldn¡¯t see her reaction either. Could only hope she liked it.

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    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± Well, it was more like: ¡°I¡¯m thanked.¡± Telling the person you heard them.

    Nothing else to say, we carried on walking.

    It was a more exciting walk today. There were people, mostly men, in the fields. Not only men, maybe three-quarters? Hard to tell. Small plants with bushy leaves grew, like wheat in colour, but they were definitely an underground vegetable, looking like ginger with thick, twisting roots. Covered in dirt, I wasn¡¯t sure on their colour, but I saw glimpses of like beet? A reddish-purple shade.

    ¡°Do you know those vegetables?¡± I asked Hyraj, tugging by her elbow.

    She turned to look, her steps slowing a moment before carrying on as they were. ¡°Those are yorang. They are like hichjalt, but more bitter. That said, I have always had them served sweet,¡± she said.

    Well, I thought of the hichjalt as sweet potatoes, so that made yorang not-sweet potatoes? Joking aside, I wondered if these were maybe the big carby food people ate here. After all, if it was bitter, why did they grow it? Not enough other crops for this time of year?

    While I idly thought, I kept watching. Women and some of the men pulled up the plants and tossed them into a barrel, then a man with something like a forklift-wheelbarrow (no motor or anything) came along to pick the barrel up and wheel it away. Some of them tied the barrel before wheeling it, some of them didn¡¯t¡ªand one of them spilled it. I tried not to laugh, especially at the chorus of groans that drifted over.

    The next field had something similar going on, but there were rows and rows of trellises with vines, I guessed berries growing on them. Again I asked her, lucky that this was another crop she knew about.

    ¡°They are for tea. This is the dry harvest, usually making for an almost sweet drink, but they will be dried in a bake-room first, so it should be a month or so before this particular batch is ready. There will be some batches from earlier in the season, but this last one is most treasured.¡±

    She had told me about tea before, something that most people drank¡ªwhy I thought of it as tea. I hadn¡¯t known it was a dried berry, though. Kind of assumed it was a stewed leaf.

    So I asked, ¡°Could you tell me more about tea¡¯s flavour?¡±

    ¡°That is it,¡± she said, lingering on the last word a moment before continuing. ¡°A mild and soothing taste, with a¡­. Forgive me, my experiences with it are what we are unlikely to encounter, so I should say less on the matter.¡±

    Although I was only more curious for hearing that, I didn¡¯t want to pry. ¡°Okay.¡±

    The end of this field brought us to an even larger village made up of a few roads, even passing a stable on the way in¡ªI didn¡¯t see any animals inside, wondering what this world¡¯s ¡°horses¡± looked like. Not only that, the main road was paved. Cobblestone, but it looked flat enough, much more impressive than the dirt paths we¡¯d followed so far.

    For once, our arrival wasn¡¯t enough to summon the remaining villagers. The people out and about gave us a look or two, but left us alone, maybe because Hyraj walked so confidently despite having never been here before. Still, her confidence was warranted as she took us straight to a bakery.

    Her confidence didn¡¯t end there, going up to the counter, putting down a couple coins, and saying, ¡°Four slices of something fresh.¡±

    The lady behind the counter looked fairly young to me, but she didn¡¯t hesitate at all, taking it in stride. ¡°Four slices it is. Soup? Sandwich?¡±

    ¡°Sandwich,¡± Hyraj said.

    ¡°That is it,¡± the lady said, amusing me to hear someone else say the phrase.

    She asked a few polite questions while cutting slices for us, Hyraj giving polite answers that didn¡¯t really say anything. I had noticed that at the other villages. Hyraj liked to ask what she wanted to ask and get the answers, but little else. Even with me, it felt like all our talking was lessons, hardly anything else.

    I didn¡¯t mind any of that. If she was a man, no doubt people would praise her for being serious and focused and driven. As a woman, they would criticise her for being cold, curt, and self-centred. I had seen it happen enough times.

    Well, we had our bread and we found a spot on the outskirts to eat. Despite what Hyraj had said, we had nothing to put on our breads; the little forage we had left was stuff we needed to cook and making a fire right by a village or on a path was apparently rude. Not like I knew the etiquette for this sort of thing, so I trusted Hyraj¡¯s word.

    I didn¡¯t mind. Water and bread was something I had even had for the odd meal in my old world, sometimes having no appetite.

    So we slowly ate and drank and watched the people come and go, some wheeling in barrels, some wheeling barrels out, and there were some travellers too. Maybe they were merchants, trading things from their large backpacks, maybe people on their way home after working away for a while.

    Eventually, Hyraj decided the worst of the midday heat had passed. We set off on the cobblestone path.

    Unlike the empty roads before, we shared this with the odd person, her pace making sure we overtook those going the same way and we passed some going to the village we¡¯d left. After an hour or so, we encountered our first wagon. A cart pulled by a ¡°horse¡±.

    I had been curious and my curiosity was certainly entertained, the horse somewhat like a skinny rhino, legs thick and short, a stubby horn between its eyes. It also didn¡¯t have fur, leathery skin a dirty brown that, for all I knew, might have been from dirt.

    While it walked with a delicate gait, there was something very obvious about how dangerous it was, tugging along a cart like it weighed nothing, every step deceptively quiet for its size. Even if Hyraj didn¡¯t guide us to the side of the road, I wasn¡¯t going to get close.

    The fields we passed were more tea, all the way until we arrived at the next village in the late afternoon. It was about as large as the last and, after asking a local, Hyraj found us a room at the tavern. As curious as I was about what it would be like at night, I didn¡¯t ask to go down, staying with Hyraj in our small room.

    Another day, another breakfast of ¡°porridge¡±, and we set off. Despite what Hyraj had said before about the large village we were heading to being called Hichdrej because of underground vegetables, it seemed like this was very much a tea-farming area. The only time it wasn¡¯t a field of tea was because it was a bunch of barns that were probably the ¡°bake-rooms¡± she¡¯d mentioned, smoke trailing out their chimneys.

    Over the afternoon, clouds gathered on the horizon and a wind started to blow, cold, especially since I had taken to not wearing my vest. While putting on my jumper helped keep away the chill, it didn¡¯t help my worry, hoping that rain wasn¡¯t for today.

    Hyraj didn¡¯t mention it, but it felt like her pace quickened.

    So we strode, my poor legs burning, road soon busy with farmers heading home, wheelbarrows pushing past us to go back up to the bake-house, very distant rumbles of thunder.

    Funnily enough, it began to feel familiar, reminding me of pushing through the chattering mums hanging outside the junior school, of being swamped in the hallway after a school assembly or between classes in the busier parts of my high school. Something soothing about being surrounded by people after so long alone.

    Then the village came into view, more like a town. Mostly cottages, but there were some more brick-ish buildings, nothing too tall, thatch roofs, lampposts. I had to take another look at those when we reached them, for a moment thinking they might have electricity, but they were probably oil lamps, no bulbs inside.

    Still, looking around at the buildings that would have been right at home in an old English village, it felt almost familiar.

    Almost, but not quite.

 Ch. 31 Settling in

    There wasn¡¯t time for sightseeing. Hyraj led the way and I followed a step behind, careful not to lose her in the loose crowd all making their way home. Like before, she picked out a tavern on the main road, then set us up there. So noisy, I barely heard a word she said to the innkeeper. So tired, I fell asleep quickly, the distant chatter mingling with the growing rain just enough to drown out my idle thoughts.

    In the morning, that rain still fell and fell heavily at that. It didn¡¯t sound so loud in a real room in a real building. I felt kinda sad about that, coming to love the sound of rain in this world. Well, I couldn¡¯t do anything about that, just sat by the window where it was loudest.

    I didn¡¯t know what our plan was now we were here, not really. We were going to stay here for the stormy season and then¡­. Not to mention, what did staying here mean? Were we literally going to sit inside this room for the next three months? I knew she had some money, but was a ¡°hotel¡± that cheap?

    The answers to those questions didn¡¯t matter. I could only do what she told me. Owed her so much, no way someone else would look after me like she did.

    Just like back in my old world.

    While I stewed, she had filled a tub with warm water; at least, I assumed that because she said, ¡°Louise? I filled the tub with warm water for you to bathe.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, turning around with a smile at odds with my churning emotions.

    She left the room and I bathed, scrubbing off the last couple days¡¯ grime. What wouldn¡¯t come off were the fine hairs that had grown out since coming to this world. No razor or wax strips for me. Smiling softly, I felt pretty lucky that the hair didn¡¯t really show on my arms and legs. My clothing covered it all anyway.

    That on my mind, while I was drying my hair, I wondered how long it had grown since coming here. It honestly sucked having it so long, but I hadn¡¯t ever been brave enough to ask for it to be cut short. Never seen someone like me with short hair. From what I¡¯d seen here, that wasn¡¯t going to change.

    Getting my hair as dry as I could, I wound it up and stuck the hat over, then went out to find Hyraj. The downstairs was mostly empty, just a couple of groups at the tables spread out across the room, fire burning, wind whistling down the chimney.

    Hyraj sat at the counter, talking to the innkeeper. I wasn¡¯t really sure if this place counted as an inn or a tavern or if there was even a difference. Anyway, I went to join them.

    The innkeeper gave me a look, Hyraj glanced over, but I just smiled and sat down quietly, so the two continued. It was easy to guess what they were talking about.

    ¡°Thing is, not many come here to stay. The grunch just sleep in the barns or make friends. Wouldn¡¯ earn a penny if they paid for a room,¡± the innkeeper said.

    Hyraj had a hand on the counter and now clapped with it. ¡°There truly is no choice for renting?¡± she asked.

    The innkeeper shooed and said, ¡°If you¡¯re staying, then it¡¯s up to the job. What you looking to do?¡±

    ¡°I thought to right books for the merchant guild. That is it, they have a branch here?¡± Hyraj asked.

    ¡°Books, huh? I say there¡¯s a chance, their apprentices always looking to get to the capital,¡± the innkeeper said, falling into thought. ¡°Ah, that¡¯ll get you a room no doubt, but might take some time. If you want somewhere to stay until then¡­ say, any good with kids?¡±

    ¡°No¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    The innkeeper turned to me, Hyraj too, this time for more than a glimpse. I smiled, a bit embarrassed, but this felt like the perfect opportunity for me to repay Hyraj¡ªat least a little.

    In the end, the rain only stopped midday, so we went to the house after lunch. It wasn¡¯t on the main road or a road off of the main road, but this village seemed fairly well off, even out here the path still made of cobblestone.

    We came to a stop by a house. Whitewashed walls and a thatched roof, a picket fence that covered the two steps or so from the roadside to the front door, flowerbeds overgrown in weeds. A weathered sign on the gate read: Mr Lurchen & Mrs Frinchen. Hyraj¡¯s book had used shortenings for ¡°titles¡±, and the & was just the first letter of their word for ¡°and¡± with an underline; Hyraj had told me that at some point, maybe when talking about shops?

    Anyway, I didn¡¯t think much of the couple being unmarried, then realised maybe wives didn¡¯t change their last names here. It didn¡¯t matter.

    Hyraj knocked, but, even before the door opened, we could hear how¡­ lively it was. Not screaming or shouting, just the familiar sound of a few different conversations happening in the same room, everyone naturally talking louder to be heard.

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    However, that noise suddenly ceased and the door soon creaked open. ¡°Can¡¯I helps?¡± the woman said¡ªMrs Frinchen. A very thick accent and that was the best I could understand what she¡¯d said.

    Hyraj didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°That is it, we are staying at the Tea and Biscuits where the innkeeper mentioned they might be interested in renting a room,¡± she said.

    I was confused for a moment, then remembered Hyraj used ¡°they¡± like a polite ¡°you¡±. Mrs Frinchen understood it correctly, though, her smile going from strained to forced. ¡°Ah, a room?¡± she muttered, her gaze, like, scanning our faces. ¡°Is it that? To say, there¡¯s a room, all right, but¡­.¡±

    Just as she seemed to find the words to carry on, a thump cut through the silence, followed by a whiny cry and two overlapping shouts of, ¡°Wasn¡¯t me!¡±

    Mrs Frinchen closed her eyes, a long sigh slipping out of her as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. I took note of the gesture, something I¡¯d seen a few people do, maybe like how posh ladies covered their mouths when laughing?

    ¡°There¡¯s a room with a lock and two meals, no promises of peace when that lot¡¯s awake,¡± she said, now wearing a defeated smile.

    Looking at Hyraj, she showed no reaction. I still felt compelled to help, so gave her a nudge, smiling. She glanced at me and let out a sigh. ¡°Please,¡± she said to Mrs Frinchen.

    There was a lot going on inside the cottage. The door opened right into the lounge, crammed with mismatched furniture: six wooden chairs, no two looking the same, each with a differently patterned cushion, and a trio of side-tables.

    Those were all on the smaller side too and the reason why was obvious, five young children huddled behind the farthest table. By the look of it, they were ages two to ten, the oldest and the second youngest boys, other three girls. As for the thump we¡¯d heard, the little boy had quite the red eyes.

    That was on the left side, on the right a door to the kitchen and, through a door there, the bathroom. ¡°It was all one big room before the pipes came in, so I¡¯m told,¡± Mrs Frinchen said, gesturing at the taps. ¡°We moved in not that long. Well, near¡¯s ten years now, so they¡¯ll have to tell me if that¡¯s long.¡±

    I chuckled, her tone joking. Maybe it was me overthinking, but it also seemed like she had started speaking more ¡°properly¡± once we were inside¡ªtrying to match Hyraj?

    Anyway, I was impressed by the bathroom. It had a sink and a ¡°shower¡± (really just a pipe that ran up the wall), and a flushing toilet. Rather than porcelain (if that was what they were made of in my old world), the sink and toilet were a mix of wood and metal, not quite the right shape, but there was only so different they could look.

    I was glad the weather was fairly warm, imagining how cold that seat would be in winter¡­.

    Back in the lounge, she pointed out the two doors for the kids rooms, the last one to be our room. Now, I wasn¡¯t the sharpest, but even I noticed that sort of left out, well, where she and her husband slept.

    On cue, she pointed at the roof, a square patch different to its surroundings. ¡°Da and me sleep up, so give us a knock if they need anything at night.¡±

    It was all a bit odd, but really not close to as odd as sleeping in a rocky crevice.

    With the tour over, Hyraj negotiated the rent, leaving me to look around the room. Well, look at the children. As noisy as they had been before we arrived, they stuck to a corner of the room now, whispering to each other. Once they noticed me, the younger ones ducked down, giggling, while the oldest two sort of squinted at me, maybe trying to look scary?

    How cute.

    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure about the older boy. The orphanage had been girls-only, so I only knew about looking after girls. Not that I thought there was, like, a huge difference, but I doubted he would be interested in playing dolls or braiding my hair or anything like that.

    Pulling me out of my thoughts, Hyraj tapped my elbow. As I turned around, Mrs Frinchen walked over to the kids, leaving us alone.

    ¡°That is it, you wish to stay here?¡±

    I nodded before I could doubt myself. The family was desperate, so the price was good, those with money not interested in such a noisy place. At least, that was what the innkeeper had told us and it looked true enough.

    Then I caught myself and stopped nodding. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, trying not to be embarrassed over nodding.

    ¡°That is it.¡±

    That it was.

    We went back to the tavern and picked up our bags, then walked back in silence. I felt like more of an idiot with every step. Just because I was fine with kids, didn¡¯t mean she was. She¡¯d told the innkeeper she wasn¡¯t. This wasn¡¯t helping, was it? It was her money, so I shouldn¡¯t have said anything, let her decide if she wanted to spend more for somewhere quiet.

    By the time we arrived, I was on the verge of apologising and telling her we can stay elsewhere.

    ¡°It should not be for long, so let us make do,¡± she said, cutting through my thoughts.

    I stood there frozen as she knocked and, after a few seconds, the door opened. Mrs Frinchen¡¯s smile looked more natural now. I could imagine why, money the sort of thing it was hard to live without.

    She showed us in and had the children line up, going through their names one at a time¡ªfrom oldest to youngest: Chroj, Fesa, Lallie, Herf, and Yinnie. I wasn¡¯t sure if some of those were more nicknames, Lallie and Yinnie sounding like ones. Fesa I¡¯d heard before, meaning flower, the others not familiar.

    ¡°Any of these rascals cause them any trouble, just come get me and I¡¯ll sort ¡¯em out,¡± Mrs Frinchen said, arms crossed as she stared down her own children¡ªas if daring them to deny it.

    For their part, they all stood up straight and didn¡¯t pull any faces. Well, except the toddler, her biggest sister trying to hold her still.

    ¡°Go settle in, I got the keys here,¡± Mrs Finchen then said, taking just one key off of a big keyring she had tied at her waist, dropping it back in her pocket when she finished. I¡¯d noticed it was a thing around here to make random words plural. Not Hyraj, of course, but other people.

    With the key in hand, Hyraj led the way to our new room. A small room. Not cramped, but there wasn¡¯t space for much more than the bed and desk already in it. About the same as the tavern¡¯s room, really, except there was a shower in the shared bathroom¡ªand the noisy guests were around during the day rather than at night.

    I didn¡¯t know what Hyraj thought of it. Didn¡¯t know if I wanted to know.

    Well, it wouldn¡¯t be for long, apparently, so we just had to make do.

 Ch. 32 Growing Apart

    Our first night at the house wasn¡¯t all that different to being at the tavern. We stayed in the room and, around dusk, Mrs Frinchen brought us a meal. Boiled vegetables and mash. Not terrible, but I still missed our evenings spent grilling veggies over the fire, roasting them in wet leaves.

    Oh well, I wasn¡¯t going to complain. It went down easily enough.

    After that, we sat in silence. She read in the last of the daylight and by the light of her oil lamp. I made a circle with my hands, sometimes trying to do to magic, often losing myself in meandering thoughts that twisted and turned and ended up far away from where I began. Memories of my world, of this world, of moments I couldn¡¯t quite remember, of things I could only remember remembering.

    Then it was time to sleep.

    She had the bed and I lay on her mattress thing, using my jumper for a pillow. I felt lonely. All this time alone with my thoughts made me more aware than ever how messed up I was, how broken.

    I didn¡¯t know how to have a friend. No, a peer. I knew how to lead around children and I knew how to follow adults. But her¡­ I was so scared of her hating me, of losing her, it was like I couldn¡¯t speak my mind. Only dared ask small questions.

    And really, how could someone I barely knew mean that much to me? What made her so special that I couldn¡¯t live without her?

    I didn¡¯t know, yet I truly did feel like that. Thinking about what I would do without her filled me with anxiety, made me feel physically sick, heart tight and breaths shaky. Like I couldn¡¯t just go back to living that quaint life in the forest.

    It was nonsense, I knew. Just¡­ nonsense. Turning onto my side, I looked up at the little I could see of her on the bed: a bump where her shoulder was under the thin blanket. It was hot enough that even that was probably too much, but Hyraj still had it pulled up to her chin. Maybe how she was brought up.

    Now we weren¡¯t moving, I needed to think about what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. Well, I knew already.

    It took me a while to fall asleep.

    In the morning, we had a new routine. Mrs Frinchen made breakfast pretty much at dawn, so we ate first, then I went to shower. It was cold. Not icy cold, but cold enough that I could barely breathe, my lungs too shocked to work. I pushed through, missing the warm water Hyraj had always given me.

    A gift from her I still had was a toothbrush¡ªand some toothpaste¡ªbut I tried not to think about it too much, the bristles very much not made from nylon or some other plastic. It was better than rubbing my teeth with ash.

    Hyraj went into the bathroom after me, so I went to our room, drying my hair. I knew she was going to go out in a bit, apply for a job at the merchant guild or something. Maybe merchant guild wasn¡¯t the right term for it, hard to know when there wasn¡¯t a dictionary, just my guesses. From what she told me, the local businesses sent in their ¡°tax forms¡± and the guild made sure they were correct, then sent them to the tax office in the capital¡­ or something. It was pretty technical and I knew nothing about businesses and taxes and stuff like that.

    Anyway, it sounded like a good job and she would definitely get it.

    Where did that leave me? Well, sitting in this room. I sat there, waiting, and she came back, then eventually left, saying, ¡°Do not wait for me to eat if I do not return.¡±

    I didn¡¯t tell her that I couldn¡¯t eat without her, that Mrs Frinchen had only mentioned two meals and I had no money for lunch. I didn¡¯t ask her if I could go with, knowing I would only get in the way, make things awkward.

    No, I just smiled. ¡°Klin¡¯graht.¡± A greeting and a goodbye, kind of like: ¡°Good day.¡± But it meant more like lucky, my good fortune to meet you and wishing you good fortune until we meet again.

    I keenly understood that meaning today.

    With Hyraj gone, I sat in the room for who knew how long. The feelings swirling around inside me honestly made me feel so pathetic. Like I was a baby, screaming whenever someone but my mum held me. It wasn¡¯t normal. It wasn¡¯t good. It wasn¡¯t fine.

    A crash in the lounge jerked me out of my thoughts, the muffled world coming into focus, hearing the distant chatter of people out on the street, some kind of hammering, and, of course, the whining of a child who had just crashed into something.

    There was more to the world than Hyraj.

    Curious, I walked over and opened the door. Sure enough, little Yinnie was curled up in a ball, Mrs Frinchen squatting down next to her, whispering something.

    The door not silent, Mrs Frinchen paused to glance over. ¡°Sorry, she¡¯s not used to big chair,¡± she said, then went back to consoling the toddler.

    I checked the rest of the room. Chroj, the older boy, wasn¡¯t here, but Fesa was showing Lallie how to knit (or crochet or something else to do with yarn) and Herf was playing catch with himself, using a wooden spoon to see-saw the carved ball into the air.

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    It was strange, peeking in on this family in their everyday life. I felt like I didn¡¯t belong. I knew I didn¡¯t. My brain was telling me to just go back into the room, lock myself away. No need to worry.

    But I didn¡¯t.

    Yinnie calmed down soon, then immediately climbed back onto the small chair she¡¯d fallen off of. Mrs Frinchen stood up, chuckling to herself, and turned around, catching me still watching.

    I felt judged, believed she only put on a polite smile for Hyraj¡¯s money while she complained in her head. Again, that urge to hide, to go back in the room and wait for Hyraj to come back.

    But I didn¡¯t.

    ¡°There something?¡± she said, how she spoke to me sounding more casual than when she spoke with Hyraj. Maybe because Hyraj had told her at some point that I was just a ¡°maid¡±.

    I didn¡¯t really know how to speak as casual, so I just spoke. ¡°That is it¡­ I have nothing to do, but is there¡­ help I can do?¡±

    It felt humiliating to talk to someone else like that, caught between rushing out something I knew wasn¡¯t right and leaving awkward pauses, both making me sound stupid. If only I had practised talking more with Hyraj instead of only following her lessons.

    But I hadn¡¯t.

    So I lied to myself and smiled, acting like it wasn¡¯t strange. Maybe because she was used to toddler gibberish, what I said sounded reasonable and she didn¡¯t look at me like I was stupid, smiling back.

    ¡°No need, not no need,¡± she said¡ªthe double-negative making it more negative quirk of the language. ¡°You just rest.¡±

    She was telling me to go, my mind wanted to go. But I held firm.

    ¡°Well, I can always watch the little ones when time to cook,¡± I said, resisting the urge to look away by idly clapping my hand. Paying more attention to the gesture, it didn¡¯t just mean yes. The person speaking could do it to, like, emphasise what they said.

    After checking Yinnie was sitting properly, Mrs Frinchen turned back to me. ¡°Is it that? It¡¯d be handy, you know. Fesa¡¯s been asking to learn, but can¡¯t go and leave Lallie in charge of those two, can I?¡± she said.

    I laughed, her tone making it sound like a joke.

    ¡°You got, what was it, little ones at home?¡± she asked.

    A flush of embarrassment, apparently ¡°little ones¡± not something people here said. Would have been nice if Hyraj had mentioned that, definitely something I must have said to her at some point¡­ probably. Ignoring it, I said, ¡°Ah, I lived in orphanage. Many no-parents to help looking after,¡± I said, still finding the term for orphan awkward. Especially since half the children at the orphanage still had parents, they just were deemed unfit or didn¡¯t want them or some other reason. Wasn¡¯t the sort of thing you asked about.

    ¡°Oh dear, I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± she said, but this language was much better about it, having a sorry for apologising and a sorry for offering condolences. ¡°It¡¯s far away, right? Where you lived?¡±

    There, it was starting to feel like a conversation. All I had to do was ignore my feelings, pretend I was normal, keep acting. ¡°Yes, very far.¡±

    ¡°Selyo said you¡¯re only learning for a few months? You speak good,¡± Mrs Frinchen said, smiling.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, smiling back¡ªand remembering that word to ask Hyraj about later.

    We chatted a little more, then I left her to look after Yinnie. Climbing up-and-down seemed to be a game toddlers enjoyed in both worlds.

    Back in the room, door closed, I sat on the bed and forced deep breaths in and out. My hands felt so cold, on the verge of trembling. I was a mess. Such a mess. But, when I thought about it, I had gone months without talking to people, then months only talking to Hyraj.

    I was a mess, but maybe it was understandable. All I had to do was tidy myself up now.

    Sort of exhausted from that, I lay on the bed and eventually drifted off into a nap. No clue how much time passed, but falling in and out of sleep, listening to some of the muffled chatter, glimpsing at like hundreds of brief dreams.

    Then a knock on the door jerked me awake, suddenly flooded with relief at Hyraj being back.

    Except Hyraj wouldn¡¯t have knocked.

    ¡°Sweetie, are you up?¡± Mrs Frinchen asked. Well, I wasn¡¯t sure about ¡°sweetie¡±, but it was something older people called young people and it was similar to the word for a type of sweet biscuit.

    Anyway, not the time to think about words. I pushed myself up and said, ¡°Ah, yes?¡±

    ¡°I thought, save you going out for lunch, can you keep look of Yinnie so Fesa and me can cook something up?¡±

    My heart pounded. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, forcing the word out as my throat tried to close up.

    ¡°Good good, when you¡¯re ready.¡±

    I stayed sitting on the bed for a moment, forcing deep breaths, then stood up, ignoring how my vision swam, breathing, waiting for the light-headedness to clear. Once it did, I walked to the door and opened it.

    The lounge hadn¡¯t changed, just where people were. Yinnie and Herf were playing a rolling game, more like fetch since Yinnie couldn¡¯t roll the ball too well, while Lallie was hunched up in a corner, still doing something with yarn. Mrs Frinchen and Fesa hovered by the kitchen doorway, pausing their conversation now I was out.

    ¡°Give us a call if they mess about, but they play nice most days,¡± Mrs Frinchen said, Fesa walking into the kitchen.

    I smiled and nodded. ¡°Okay.¡±

    So she left too, left me with the three kids. Lallie glanced at me before going back to her hobby while the littlest ones carried on like they hadn¡¯t heard anything. Probably hadn¡¯t.

    I did nothing, just stood there and watched. The ball rolled, the two of them laughed, Herf saying, ¡°No no, to me,¡± and, ¡°Watch me,¡± and Yinnie chattering a mix of words and gibberish back.

    They kept playing, so I kept watching. No need to make a fuss. That was until Yinnie really missed the mark, ball rolling all the way over to me.

    Herf had started moving to get it, but, seeing me, froze in place. I softly smiled and lowered myself to the floor, sitting down, then rolled the ball over to him. It reached him, he grabbed it, took another look at me, and rolled it back to Yinnie.

    They carried on, but it was obvious Yinnie had found it funny and kept trying to roll the ball to me again. He did his best, catching it most times, only for Yinnie to laugh even more at how he practically dived to get them. I wasn¡¯t super sure before, but it seemed like all the kids were two years apart, so he was probably four. Good speaking skills, good movement.

    We played like that until lunch was ready. Nothing fancy, just like a hash brown or potato waffle: something starchy shredded up and fried. There was a sort of gravy-sauce drizzled over it and mushy peas on the side.

    I was reminded of talking with Hyraj about soup and stock before. She had said I shouldn¡¯t worry about ¡°meat¡±, so I didn¡¯t ask about the gravy. It tasted salty, maybe because I hadn¡¯t eaten anything with salt for months, but that was quite nice with the rich fritter? That sounded right, fritter¡­.

    Eating in my room, I paused when I heard Mrs Frinchen talking in the lounge. ¡°Was she nice?¡±

    Yinnie giggled and, after a few seconds, Herf said, ¡°I guess so.¡± I could just imagine him pouting as he did.

    I smiled to myself, finding the mushy peas almost sweet today.

 Ch. 33 Different directions

    Hyraj returned in the evening. Like for lunch, I was watching over the little ones while Mrs Frinchen and Fesa cooked, so I was there to greet her right away. She looked the same as always, standing in the doorway. She looked so different. The same her, but with a tiredness I hadn¡¯t seen, like her face was tense.

    ¡°Klin¡¯graht,¡± I said with a small smile.

    She looked past Mrs Frinchen to me, a moment passing before her mouth quirked into the smallest smile. ¡°Klin¡¯graht.¡±

    I felt the urge to step forwards, like I wanted to be close to her, countless questions about her day bubbling up in my head. But I was practising doing the opposite of what my subconscious told me to do, so I stayed where I was.

    She excused herself to the room. I wanted to go with her. I didn¡¯t. Couldn¡¯t. I was watching the little ones, after all. I had my own ¡°job¡±.

    Telling myself that, tricking myself, anything to distract from the distress I felt swell inside me. Every other thought was inevitably about her, reminding me she was just on the other side of the door. How I could just go ask her if she wanted a drink, tell her it wouldn¡¯t be long until dinner¡ªsurely something reasonable like that would be fine?

    I didn¡¯t.

    Even with an afternoon nap, Yinnie was tired, curled up next to her sister as Lallie still fiddled with the yarn. It looked suspiciously like a tangled mess, not that I was one to talk. An adult who couldn¡¯t do it at all critiquing a child¡¯s practice.

    Herf, who didn¡¯t nap, had a familiarly scary appearance, sitting unnaturally still with his eyes forced wide. Children had their stages of tiredness and he was well and truly beyond exhausted. Still, I admired his determination. The little ones I looked after would start to sway or sink forwards, only to shoot back up once they caught themselves nodding off, followed by a very firm declaration that they weren¡¯t sleepy.

    The more time I spent just in the same room as them, the more curious I grew. About the family. I wondered where Mr Lurchen was, what Chroj was up to, why they needed to rent out a room while no one else apparently did.

    It hadn¡¯t really hit me before that this was a real world, full of real people with real problems. The same kinds of problems I knew because, regardless of when or where, there were some problems that always existed. Well, almost anywhere and any time. Not sure ancient cave people had issues with mortgages.

    Lost in thought, I almost jumped when Mrs Frinchen said, ¡°Louise?¡±

    Standing up, I said, ¡°Okay?¡± noticing this family used that instead of ¡°yes¡± for these moments.

    ¡°Come get for you and your Selyo, sure you know best what to like,¡± she said.

    I resisted the urge to nod, clapping. ¡°Okay.¡±

    The meal was a bit more interesting tonight, maybe because, like for lunch, she had Fesa to help. Whatever the reason, it was that starchy mash again, but accompanied by some fried vegetables. There was maybe the ¡°tamed¡± carrot-y plant I¡¯d seen in the one field, some other kind of peas, the other things chopped up to the point I couldn¡¯t tell anything about them but their colour.

    Well, Hyraj hadn¡¯t fussed over eating forage, so I doubted she would mind actual cooking. The hardest part was trying to get a portion size that wasn¡¯t too small and wasn¡¯t too greedy. How I thought of it, Yinnie and Herf would have half a portion, Chroj would have two portions, and everyone else one. Even if that wasn¡¯t completely accurate, it gave me a good guess on how to split it.

    At the least, Mrs Frinchen didn¡¯t give me a funny look on the way out of the kitchen.

    Inside our room, Hyraj looked up and forced another smile. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I just brought it,¡± I mumbled, a little guilty over being thanked for walking across a room.

    With the desk by the bed, her on the chair, we ate, bite by bite. The mash tasted the same as yesterday, but the fried vegetables, oh, they were delicious! Crispy, some of them sweet, some rich, some kind of smooth? And there was a mild spice, reminding me of the mustard leaves I had used to cook.

    I was about to ask Hyraj about it, but I looked up and she looked the same as ever, steadily eating her food. The words died in my mouth, souring the food, but only for that mouthful, the next spoon tasting wonderful again.

    There was so much I wanted to say until I realised she would hear me. It reminded me of kids, how they wanted to blabber on and on about their favourite things, but adults and even other children would tell them to stop¡ªthat no one cared.

    I didn¡¯t know what it was like to have someone care about me, not really. Afraid to presume Hyraj cared and more afraid of asking. I could live with how we were, so there was no need to change it.

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    The lie I had always told myself that ended up with me never having any friends. The lie that had haunted my day, anxious and worried.

    But things like that weren¡¯t easy to change. Hyraj didn¡¯t ever talk over dinner, so I waited until we were both finished. ¡°It tasted nice, didn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. An opinion. I wasn¡¯t just asking her what she thought, put myself out there¡­ a little bit.

    She took a moment to reply, apparently deep in thought? ¡°Indeed.¡±

    A short answer, but she didn¡¯t call me stupid or anything like that. Not that I had expected her to. I just¡­ needed to reinforce it in my head so that, next time I worried what she¡¯d say, I could tell myself, ¡°She didn¡¯t do that last time, did she?¡±

    Taking our plates through, I thought about how strange memories were. So many days had passed in my life, but there were these particular moments that stuck with me, out of my control.

    I¡¯d heard people talk about happy memories while all I could really remember were the bad ones. Times I¡¯d been in trouble, the time an older girl was having a breakdown and I honestly thought she was going to kill herself¡ªI was only like six at the time, she was probably a teen and had just moved in. There was the time I had thought I was going to die, my first swimming lesson at school and I was too scared to tell the teacher I couldn¡¯t swim when everyone else said they could, so I just jumped in and tried my best. Still didn¡¯t know if the teacher or anyone else would have even noticed me drowning.

    Those were the kinds of memories that stuck with me. If I tried, I could kind of remember the little ones¡¯ faces, could imagine how it looked when I brushed their hair in the morning, but I couldn¡¯t say it was a real memory, more a blur. All those mornings overlapping together.

    So I drilled this moment into my head, repeated it like I always had to when it came to learning. If I couldn¡¯t make it a memory, I could memorise it, ready for when my mind tested me next.

    She was tired, the food probably wasn¡¯t as great as the stuff she¡¯d eaten back home, but she still gave me a short, polite answer.

    Coming out of my thoughts, Mrs Frinchen was washing up in the kitchen. It was funny. I had the urge to be helpful, but it was a very selfish urge that only came up when I didn¡¯t really mind the chore. The orphanage had a dishwasher; I would offer to fill it up, but never offered to wash up the things that didn¡¯t go in it.

    However, I was trying to ignore my brain today. ¡°Can I help?¡± I asked, rolling up my sleeves.

    When I made it back to the room, Hyraj was reading. Just that, even after a couple minutes had passed, she hadn¡¯t turned the page. It took another minute for me to gather up all my courage.

    ¡°How was your work?¡± I asked, unsure exactly how awkward that sounded, but sure it did sound awkward.

    Again, she was slow to answer. A few seconds, then her book went down, bookmark slotted in, then another few seconds before she spoke. ¡°That is it. I am on trial¡±¡ªI guessed that was what the word meant¡ª¡°for two weeks. After that, they shall allocate me a room.¡±

    I clapped my hand along. But that didn¡¯t answer my question, did it? I felt like I shouldn¡¯t push, that she was ignoring it on purpose, had said what she wanted to say.

    And I spoke anyway. ¡°The work, was it okay?¡± I said, so eager I messed up the order.

    ¡°It was fine,¡± she said. Short and polite, her tone even, pace unhurried.

    I breathed in, then said, ¡°That is it, what is the work?¡±

    A pause, then she let out a breath of laughter. ¡°Ah, are you curious?¡± she said, more to herself than asking me. ¡°Well, I have so far mostly spent my time copying rules as if a naughty child punished by their tutor. In general, I am to work as a checker who shall ensure that the figures the senior accountant calculates are accurate and precise, which means that the correct rules have been applied and that the correct values have been written down in the calculations.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t expecting quite so detailed an answer, but I wasn¡¯t going to complain. It did seem like I was mostly right about her job. ¡°Is¡­ it time for taxes?¡± I asked, unsure how to phrase it.

    She picked up on that. ¡°The taxation period is now,¡± she said, enunciating the long word that ¡°taxation period¡± squashed down to. ¡°Taxes are collected after each harvesting season for farmers, and then on other businesses at the start of the year. In-between those periods, I should be assisting with census work, which ensures that the village will receive proper funding for public services, such as covering maintenance on the plumbing.¡±

    Interested as I was, it felt like it was becoming another lesson. ¡°Is this¡­ work you like?¡± I asked.

    Maybe she didn¡¯t expect me to ask that, her face showing nothing as she took a moment to respond. ¡°Like or dislike, it is a suitable job for the time being and I am suitable for the job,¡± she said.

    ¡°I want know things you like and dislike,¡± I said.

    There was nothing strange about saying that, I thought, but the way she looked at me, I felt a¡­ pressure. Like she hadn¡¯t really been looking at me before. ¡°Then,¡± she said, holding that word in a gentle tone, ¡°I do not like it nor do I dislike it. Although there are tedious parts to it and I am unsure how I feel about the senior accountant at present, it should be satisfying to work with numbers. I have had only my books to keep me sharp for a while now.¡±

    I listened close, trying to pick out the emotions she didn¡¯t show. Not just learning. Or rather, learning how to have a conversation with a friend.

    We talked a little more like that. I talked a little more, telling her a little about Yinnie and Herf. Didn¡¯t know if she liked kids; if not, then she wouldn¡¯t want to hear stories about them, would she?

    ¡°How fun,¡± she said with a little smile.

    Lots of little and small things. For all books said, people didn¡¯t usually have that big of a reaction. Not much that needed such big reactions.

    That was our new evening routine, the same thing playing out every day for the week. A shorter week, only four days of work and two days rest; Hyraj mentioned it was like how we slept for a third of the day, so our week needed a third for rest.

    The weekend¡¯s morning, she said, ¡°We should buy what we need when we move out next week.¡±

    My heart thumped in my chest, yet I felt like it wasn¡¯t actually pumping any blood. Hands cold, kind of dizzy, but I kept pushing. I wouldn¡¯t change if I didn¡¯t change myself.

    ¡°That is it¡­ I think I¡¯m going to stay here,¡± I said.

    She paused, hand in her backpack. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Swallowing the lump in my throat, all the words I had so carefully prepared now escaped me. But I tried.

    ¡°I¡­ am very thankful for, for everything you have¡­ done for me. So I cannot just¡­ be a toy that sit around a room. Driddle¡ªMrs Frinchen¡ªshe¡¯s been teaching Lallie to knit, and she said she can teach me too, and then I earn some money for rent if I help out a bit too.¡±

    Oh I¡¯d stumbled at the start, then raced at the end, no clue if I had said anything that made sense.

    But I¡¯d said it.

 Ch. 34 Regret

    I didn¡¯t know how I wanted Hyraj to react. Maybe she would quietly accept it, the two of us going our own ways from now on. Maybe she would tell me it was a waste and to just go with her. Maybe she would get angry, upset that I would decide something like this without talking to her.

    It was like I wanted to have my cake and eat it. Wanted her to be upset, but didn¡¯t want to upset her. I knew that was too selfish, though, so I just waited to see how she did react, willing to accept it. That was the least I could do.

    So I waited, watching her as she sat there, hand still in her backpack. Her expression never changed, her tone¡ªwhen she finally did speak¡ªlevel and unhurried.

    ¡°Is it that? Well, I am sure you have carefully considered the matter.¡±

    The weight of all the maybes melted at those words and left behind a hollowness as I found out how unimportant I was to her. Then again, was I one to talk? Would it not have been stranger for her to want to stay with someone who wanted to abandon her?

    There I went, giving myself more worries.

    ¡°I have tried,¡± I whispered, scared to speak normally in case my voice cracked.

    A moment of silence hung for painfully long before she finished fishing out whatever it was she was after in her backpack. ¡°Then, I suppose we shall need to make sure you have whatever it is you need too,¡± she said, standing up.

    I didn¡¯t know how I felt, but I also stood up and followed behind her as she left the house.

    The streets were usually quiet at this time of day, but that had been for the week. Now, children played on the cobblestone road while parents made groups at the side of the road, mostly mothers, but maybe a third fathers? The children made their groups too, some older ones kicking around a ball, some younger ones just chasing each other in circles, some in the middle playing make-believe, huddled together with dolls and wielding sticks like swords.

    It was nice. At the orphanage, there were a lot more children than TVs, so it wasn¡¯t like we could all spend every day off happily watching what we wanted. Until they were five or six or so, the little ones could spend hours playing mums and babies, or sisters. Playing happy families.

    Of course, we weren¡¯t there for that, so we walked over the couple streets to the main road where most of the shops were. I had gone with Fesa before for groceries, but those weren¡¯t quite the places Hyraj was interested in visiting now.

    No, we went to a tailor first, or maybe a seamstress? I had sort of thought those were just, like, the gendered names for the same job, but that was because I hadn¡¯t thought about it before. Although the store was run by a man, he had a female assistant who measured Hyraj while he chatted about (what I guessed were) fabrics and styles. Left to think about the difference between a tailor and seamstress, I wondered if it was what kind of clothing they made and maybe he was a seamstress¡ªa seamster?

    I wasn¡¯t sure how clothing shops worked in my world before sewing machines and all that, so I had no clue if they had ready-made clothes or would make new ones. In the end, it was a bit of both, the man showing off some dresses before taking them back into the back, maybe to adjust them? Whatever the reason, Hyraj walked over to me and I thought that meant it was time to go.

    Turned out, I was wrong.

    ¡°May she take measures of you now?¡± Hyraj asked, gesturing at the woman with the measuring tape.

    I froze up, very much not expecting that. Slowly regaining the ability to speak, I stuttered, saying, ¡°Th-that, um, no, no need.¡±

    Hyraj raised an eyebrow. ¡°You have one set of clothes, what are you to wear when washing them?¡±

    I had nothing to say to that.

    A little later, we left the store for the time being. Dresses weren¡¯t adjusted in a minute. Anyway, she didn¡¯t need much else. Some more oil for her lamp, a set of cutlery from the blacksmith (who just made household things, not swords and armour), nothing else she bought particularly interesting. An hour or so passed before we headed back to the clothing store.

    There were some other customers this time, the manager chatting to them as the assistant measured someone, but he quickly finished that conversation and came over to us. ¡°Ah, our valued customer! Please, we won¡¯t be a moment,¡± he said, then immediately strode off to the door to the back.

    I wondered why he seemed to treat Hyraj so well, noticing the other customers giving us a kind of dirty look? But the reason why he did was pretty obvious when a woman from the back came through with like five dresses. They were nothing fancy, this not a fancy shop in a not fancy village. White-ish, linen-ish cloth that went from wrist to ankle, no real embellishment beyond a pretty bit of sewing around the neckline, a sort of lacy pattern, but sewn into the cloth, no lace attached to it.

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    As well as those, there was also a blouse and like clown trousers? Loose except for the ends. I wondered if those were her pyjamas¡­ up until she handed them to me, asking, ¡°How are they?¡±

    Not for the first time, it took me a moment to realise, only then checking them properly. They honestly felt a bit rough, wrinkled just from holding them. ¡°Great,¡± I said, softly smiling.

    She turned around and paid, the manager including a basket for her to carry the clothes in. Despite me trying to take the basket and the manager trying to give it to me, she carried it. That part of her really hadn¡¯t changed since we were camping out in the woods.

    Outside, we walked¡ªnot back to the house. I wondered if there was something else she still wanted to get, taking us along the main road to the far side of the village I hadn¡¯t been to before. Shops and houses lined the road for a while, then there was a short break of nothing before some other buildings.

    They looked newer, but older, made of bricks that were all the same size, yet covered in grime. No one cared about keeping them clean. They were all two-storey buildings too, some bigger, and we eventually came to one that was rather big indeed. I realised why we were here when I read the sign on the gate in front of it: The Tax Office. Well, that was my interpretation of it now that I knew more about the jobs there.

    ¡°I should be working here and living in the dormitory adjacent,¡± Hyraj said, gesturing at the smaller building beside the office, ¡°if you have need of me.¡±

    I tried not to cry, suddenly reminded of our situation and all the emotions began to rush forward. ¡°And you know where I¡¯ll be if you have need of me,¡± I whispered, afraid my voice would crack if I spoke louder.

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    The long walk back was in silence and I was thankful for that, giving me time to pull myself together. It felt like having more goodbyes in my life actually made the next goodbye even harder. Because I knew goodbye meant goodbye, that no one actually came back if they could help it. Not at the orphanage.

    It was hard to tell myself this time would be different, not when I knew I had nothing to offer her. Still, I put on a smile, held my head up, ready to play pretend for another week.

    Arriving back at the house, I left my new clothes in the room, then went out to watch the little ones while Driddle and Fesa cooked, needed that normalcy right now; Hyraj stayed in the room, saying, ¡°I shall go out for lunch shortly.¡±

    So I sat in the lounge. Chroj was here today, off in the corner whittling with Herf next to him, watching. Chroj was an apprentice carpenter. Well, right now he was more like the apprentice¡¯s apprentice, mostly sweeping and sorting wood; carpentry was usually a family business, so he was doing the jobs the child taking over the business would do at his age. Most of it went over my head, but I didn¡¯t want Driddle thinking I was dumb, so I didn¡¯t ask too much.

    I also knew about Mr Lurchen now. He worked in a town nearby, but nearby meant more than a day¡¯s walk, so he didn¡¯t come home much when his work was in season. She¡¯d told me the job, but I had pretended I knew it when I really had no clue, nothing like any word I¡¯d heard before.

    Their situation was pretty sad. Parents didn¡¯t approve of their marriage, so their families didn¡¯t help even after the first kids were born, so they moved somewhere they could at least make enough money to support themselves. How she spoke, I thought it was normal here for grandparents to help look after the kids, get old clothes and cots from cousins¡ªsome of the stuff I knew went on with families in my world. Well, even at the orphanage, we handed down clothes and toys and stuff.

    Anyway, I understood why they needed to rent and other people here maybe didn¡¯t. Made me feel like, even though I was being kind of selfish to stay here, I was also helping this struggling family. Helped me feel better about it all.

    Idly thinking about that while watching Lallie tease Yinnie with a piece of yarn¡ªvery much making me think of teasing a cat¡ªDriddle popped through, joining me.

    ¡°How was shops with the Selyo? See me surprised you weren¡¯t carrying basket,¡± she said, ending with a chuckle.

    I softly laughed too, but that word¡ªSelyo¡ªlingered in my head. Still hadn¡¯t found a good time to ask Hyraj about it. ¡°It was fine. Oh, she bought me some¡­ sleep clothes,¡± I said, cringing at how I had started to speak before realising I didn¡¯t know the word for pyjamas.

    ¡°Is it that? Must be a lucky day, maybe I¡¯ll get a cheque from Da,¡± she said, her tone still light.

    It rubbed me the wrong way, though. That had happened a few times by now. Something about the way she spoke about Hyraj leaving me feeling like I was missing the joke, but couldn¡¯t see how. It was never something bad, no, just¡­ something.

    She moved on, chatting about other things, and I started to forget the feeling. But then she said, ¡°It¡¯s good you can get away from her. Really, she gives you lefsonsa and thinks you¡¯ll stay with her? Selyosa don¡¯t understand real people.¡±

    And it clicked.

    I didn¡¯t know what to say, what to do, thankful she had at least been too involved in her own rambling to not notice my reaction. Once I could think, I felt the need to escape¡ªright now. It took me a moment to fumble together any words that would work, careful to plan them about before I started speaking this time.

    ¡°Sorry, but I remembered something. Can I check it quick?¡± I said, gesturing at my room.

    ¡°Go on, then. Nothing Fesa can¡¯t handle today,¡± she said, smiling.

    It almost hurt to smile back.

    A blur, one moment I was sitting next to her at the child-sized table, the next I was back in our room, curled up on the floor with my back to the door. One second, two, and I finally noticed a gentle sound.

    ¡°Louise?¡±

    I looked up, seeing Hyraj there. Of all the things in my mind right now, there was one that pounded like a migraine, so I softly asked, ¡°What does ¡®Selyo¡¯ mean?¡±

    Long before she spoke, I saw the answer on her face. The face that never showed anything. All that time looking for her little smiles meant I knew exactly what the opposite of a smile was, like I could see the flash of anger in her eyes.

    I bowed my head, already putting together an apology, should have known better than to even say the word so blatantly, just like I wouldn¡¯t have asked someone in my world about a slur.

    The shortened sorry wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°My apolog¡ª¡±

    Before I could finish that long word, her finger touched my lips, silencing me. I slowly looked up, only to see her step away and sit at the table. For a moment, I wondered if I had imagined it, but there was a taste lingering on my lips. A hand cream I¡¯d seen in her backpack that had a subtle smell like citrus.

    ¡°Shall we go out for lunch?¡± she asked.

    I nodded.

 Ch. 35 History

    Everything after we left the room was a blur until we were on the outskirts of the town, sitting on the edge of a ditch, one of the ¡°palm trees¡± shading us. Maybe she knew I wasn¡¯t hungry because she¡¯d only bought me a small sandwich to eat. Maybe she wasn¡¯t hungry either, hers just as small.

    We ate in silence like always, chewing, endlessly chewing, such a small sandwich taking so long to eat. It wasn¡¯t too dry, had something a bit creamy inside¡ªnot exactly like butter, but maybe some kind of nut butter. I just had to chew so much before I felt like I could swallow it.

    Once we finished, she fished out two metal cups from her bag. Not her backpack, this one maybe from the clothing shop, a fabric bag like a drawstring bag. She filled both cups with water and gave me one.

    I sipped it slowly, appreciating how cool it was in the midday humidity. Cool, but not cold.

    ¡°That is it¡­ the simple answer is that it was a word from the Haben people, who lived on the southern continent of Crisoa. It referred to people who come from the northern continent of Kroustoa, based on their word for sickly pale. As you understand, it is¡­ not exactly a pleasant word to use.¡±

    I listened, tapping my thumb against my finger as I did to keep from nodding. It was habit by now. Once she finished, I thought over what she¡¯d said and then asked, ¡°What is the not-simple answer?¡±

    She chuckled, an empty laugh that turned into a sigh. ¡°Well, it all began three millennia ago¡ªthree thousand years¡ªwhen this island rose from the vast ocean and so a new goddess was born. People from both continents soon migrated here.

    ¡°From the south, most people came from Habere, which was a rather large country nearest to the new island. From the north, it is farther to reach the island and the people came from several different countries along the coast.

    ¡°However, it is¡­ a difficult climate for those from Kroustoa. Their skin will quickly redden as if burned if out in the sun for long, yet their clothes were all made of fabric suited for their cooler climate. After a thousand years, those from Habere made up most of the people living on the island, while those from Crisoa were mostly traders and merchants and people of wealth who wished to avoid the harsh winters of home.

    ¡°So it came to be seen by the Haben descendants that those from Kroustoa were a certain kind of people. That they were devoted to money, strict over trifling details, and flaunted their wealth¡ªto give the important points. One book I read even said that the word was originally an insult they gave to other Haben people who were obsessed with money, as if saying they were infected with Krousten greed.¡±

    Certainly, that was a less simple answer. A believable answer. The sort of thing that probably happened in my world, that I think had happened¡­. Then I caught something she¡¯d said. ¡°That was two thousand years ago?¡± I asked.

    After a pause, she said, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°A long time ago.¡±

    Silence for a while as the wind picked up, branches swaying above. A cool breeze that felt wonderful on this muggy day. Looking up, I saw some hints of clouds in the distance.

    ¡°It is¡­ the nature of history to believe that the chain of people between them and the events wrote, if not the truth, then at least a good attempt at the truth. Even between us, you do not know what I have read, yet you are trusting me to be truthful. That said, what I have told you so far is, in all likelihood, the truth.

    ¡°Now, this matter is something that¡­ I can believe has been misrepresented. That, if you were to ask an educated person from Crisoa, they would tell you a different history. The truth would not even necessarily be what either of us says nor something in-between.¡±

    She paused there, taking a sip of water.

    ¡°Two millennia ago, this land was governed by Habere, they the ones who collected taxes and such. There was¡­ trouble. The climate here could grow cheap food and things not common in Kroustoa, so the merchants made a lot of money. They even paid the farmers more to ensure they could buy more of the harvests. However, this meant the price of food rose in Habere and the Haben merchants who came here began to go out of business.

    ¡°That is, as I understand it, the¡­ wood for the fire. What happened next is unclear. Taxes were raised, farmers were pressured to not sell to Krousten merchants, or so has been written. All I can say for certain is that merchants¡¯ buildings were eventually attacked and their ships were set alight in the docks, killing two crews of forty.

    ¡°In response, several Krousten countries formed a coalition¡±¡ªI thought that was the right word, how she described it reminding me of history lessons¡ª¡°and¡­ invaded the island. A few thousand died, mostly Haben people and those of Haben descent. Habere hadn¡¯t expected a war, so there were no soldiers, only militias.¡± Pretty sure that was the right word too.

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    ¡°In the end, the coalition made a new government for the island. Its purpose is to ensure that merchants can bring goods to Kroustoa. While they might say that is no longer the real purpose of the government here, exports are still a vital part of the economy¡­. Forgive me, I am digressing,¡± she said, ending with a sigh.

    It was a lot to take in and not at all simple. Honestly, it triggered memories of colonialism. Was that just because she was white? After all, what she had told me¡ªwas that enough to say it was like what happened in my world?

    While I wasn¡¯t doing a good job of thinking over that, she gathered her thoughts and finished her lesson.

    ¡°I am sure this government is not perfect; however, I do not believe it to be cruel or unfair. Regardless of their heritage, people live freely. There are certainly valid criticisms to be made and it can be said us of Krousten descent still benefit unduly from the labouring of the Haben descendants, but the peace that has settled here¡­ I do not think it is an oppressive peace.¡±

    My head pounded, difficult to keep up with all the complicated words she used. Not an easy topic. Notions of right and wrong, entwined with the history lessons I had burned into my memory.

    The simplest answer I could come to: If she could walk around without worry, how bad could it be? Even Driddle, no, Mrs Frinchen, she used the ¡°S word¡±, but had let Hyraj rent the room, so she couldn¡¯t have hated Krousten people that much.

    Anything more than that, I didn¡¯t know enough to say¡­.

    ¡°Do you still want to stay there?¡± she asked, whispered.

    Pulled out of my thoughts, I had no answer. Even after a few seconds, there was just this block in my head, torn between how much I didn¡¯t want to see Mrs Frinchen again and how determined I was to try and ¡°grow up¡± and not rely on Hyraj. Because, if not there, where would I live?

    It took a long few seconds for a realisation to hit me. Slowly, I turned to look at Hyraj, saw her face that still gave nothing away. ¡°How are you?¡± I softly asked.

    She smiled that tiny smile of hers. ¡°If you are worried for me, there is no need. I am quite used to such things.¡±

    ¡°Used to it¡­ that means it still hurts, you just don¡¯t show it?¡±

    Even if I could talk to her in English, I wouldn¡¯t have had to right words to say, so I hadn¡¯t bothered to think it out. Well, I actually wanted to say ¡°it doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t hurt¡±, but remembered that it would have come out meaning ¡°it really doesn¡¯t hurt¡±; I didn¡¯t know how to say that yet, still not great with the nuances of her language.

    She didn¡¯t react, but she didn¡¯t speak right away either. Another pause, then she said, ¡°Indeed.¡±

    It took me a moment to realise what that meant¡ªthat she was agreeing with what I¡¯d said. And I wished I knew how to comfort her. I wanted to give her a hug, but doubted she would be comfortable with that. I wanted to say something, but I had already said the important bit, nothing else to say.

    Something small and reasonable, I reached over to pat her hand. She didn¡¯t pull away. Nothing showed on her face, but I hoped it helped¡ªa little.

    Looking at her, it all became stupid. My ¡°growing up¡±. What was the point of not being a burden for her if I hurt her to do it? Like, this wasn¡¯t a choice. I couldn¡¯t want to be her friend and then live with that family.

    ¡°Should we go back to¡­ Tea and Biscuits?¡± I asked, barely managing to remember the tavern¡¯s name.

    Before she answered, a gust blew by and it was cold enough to make me shiver. She turned to where it had come from. ¡°Let us see if my job cannot move me up,¡± she said, talking more to herself than me. ¡°It would be a shame if a storm stopped me from attending work.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what to say to that, so said nothing. She had nothing else to say either, so she stood up, then helped me up, and we set off back to the far side of the village.

    It was a long walk, then a long-ish wait while she went inside. I tried not to think. Right now, I wasn¡¯t going to think anything worth thinking about. Every thought tried to upset me. So I pushed them out, watching the sky, spotting distant clouds. Dark clouds that spanned the whole horizon.

    When Hyraj finally came out, she had a soft smile and, stopping in front of me, showed off a pair of keys. ¡°Let us collect our things,¡± she said.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    I still couldn¡¯t trust my thoughts the whole way back, my emotions a tangled mess. Relief at having a place to stay, worry over what Mrs Frinchen would say about me breaking my word, anxiety from sort of going backwards, back to being her ¡°pet¡± that followed her around for food and a place to sleep. None of it really made sense, so I tried to ignore them as they came up. It was just that, the quieter a place, the louder any sound rang out.

    Arriving at the Lurchen & Frinchen residence, we stopped.

    ¡°I shall go in and explain things,¡± she said, then strode in.

    So busy fighting my thoughts, I didn¡¯t really react until it was too late. Or not too late, but Hyraj was already talking to Mrs Frinchen, a very forced smile on the woman¡¯s face. Then Hyraj was inside, Mrs Frinchen standing in the open doorway.

    She looked over at me.

    I didn¡¯t know what Hyraj had told her, but her expression now wasn¡¯t as sweet as I was used to. It almost hurt. She was an adult and she was disappointed in me, and that hurt. Didn¡¯t matter that I knew I shouldn¡¯t care about disappointing her.

    Maybe¡­ I should have?

    That thought took hold of me and wouldn¡¯t let go, pushing me to walk forwards, just a few steps to get from the road to the door.

    ¡°Guess I was wrong ¡¯bout you,¡± she said. Not, like, harsh or angry, but disappointed. The tone teachers liked to use.

    It nearly worked too, made me freeze up for a second, but then the anger melted me. A cold anger that made me want to cry more than scream or shout. ¡°Hyraj has nothing but kind to me. She give me so much and hate me do anything for her. But you use that S word, and you talk like you know her, but you do not. You don¡¯t not know her.¡±

    I said it quietly, softly, almost like I was pleading with her to change her mind. Almost, but not.

    Before she could reply¡ªif she was even going to¡ªHyraj was back, backpack slung off her shoulder. She walked through and took my hand and started walking, tugging me forward. There was only time for one last glance at Mrs Frinchen.

    But I didn¡¯t look at her, looked forwards instead at Hyraj and pushed my legs a little faster, coming to walk at her side.

 Ch. 36 The eye of the storm

    It had been a long day, starting with me wanting to stay with Mrs Frinchen and her family, ending in a small room in a new place. It was like a dormitory, I thought. Sort of a corridor with bedrooms and then a kitchen and a bathroom at the end. The room only had a bed, desk, and chair. Although the bed was a little wider than a single, I wasn¡¯t going to squash into it with Hyraj and, really, I didn¡¯t mind the floor with her mattress thing.

    Nothing else to see, it didn¡¯t distract me for long and I began to fall into depressing thoughts again. There was a feeling like it was useless to even try. An old feeling, sort of the same one I had all my life before.

    It didn¡¯t matter how hard I studied, I wasn¡¯t going to get into a good university, wasn¡¯t going to get a job much better than working at the orphanage. Making friends didn¡¯t matter, not when I couldn¡¯t go watch movies with them or buy cute clothes or popular music. Trying didn¡¯t matter, so I stopped, just kept up the little I needed to do to be comfortable.

    Thinking about the past, I ended up remembering the goddess and what she¡¯d asked me. Was I satisfied? Well, my answer back then had been no. I had wanted all those things. Friends, a nice phone¡ªfamily. Even now, I wanted to call Hyraj my friend. I wanted a place I could live where I didn¡¯t have to worry about people stealing my things. Parents were something I knew I could never have, but I had thought about being a parent, the time I had spent looking after the little ones making me think about what I would do if I was one. I¡¯d never really fancied a boy, and the whole childbirth thing¡­ scared me, but I¡¯d fantasised about owning a small house and adopting a child¡ªMatilda was my favourite movie for a reason.

    Was I satisfied now? Not really, but it was maybe better. I was trying. I felt like I could maybe reach those things, that I could change. I wasn¡¯t trapped inside the orphanage.

    Besides, more literally, I was comfortable with Hyraj. It wasn¡¯t like I wanted to get away from her, I just wanted to, like, deserve to be her friend. At the camp, I had the food and dried reeds (for fires) to offer. And my little house for stormy weather. Travelling through the forest, I had foraged the vegetables and cooked them for us.

    What could I offer her now?

    I idly stared at her while she read at the desk, her face glowing in the oil lamp¡¯s light. It wasn¡¯t that late, but dark clouds had rolled in, a fierce wind blowing, apparently enough to make the whole building creak.

    She didn¡¯t wear her hat in the room. Hadn¡¯t worn it in the forest, so I guessed she didn¡¯t much like wearing it. It wasn¡¯t that everyone always wore hats, a few I¡¯d seen without, but I guessed it was the culture, just like back in the Victorian era¡ªand probably before then too.

    Well, no hat meant her hair was loose. It looked as clean as ever. Beautiful. I remembered how nice it felt, thick compared to the little ones¡¯ hair. Could run my hands through it all day.

    Just then, the rain started and it made me jump, hitting the window with heavy taps. Almost like the sound of popcorn popping, but a little muffled and louder. Maybe I was just used to the quiet, though, sounding quieter after the shock wore off.

    Curious, I went over and looked outside. It was dark, but the steady glow of the lamp lit enough to show the droplets running down the window, landing with splats. They appeared so suddenly, I kept blinking from the mini-frights.

    ¡°It seems we had good timing,¡± Hyraj said, her voice under the rain, yet clear to me.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, pushing my voice a little louder as I knew mine wasn¡¯t so clear.

    She said no more, so I focused on the rain again. There was something satisfying about darting my eyes around wherever I heard another raindrop fall. A game, just for me. Here, there, up top, down low, to the left, to the¡ª

    Something moved next to me and I very nearly screamed. At the least, my heart gave a painful thump. After a second of holding my breath, I glanced over enough to see it was just Hyraj. I hadn¡¯t heard her put down her book or move her chair or walk over. Well, my fault for being so engrossed in a silly game.

    ¡°Is there something interesting to see?¡± she asked, whispered.

    ¡°Not really.¡± I couldn¡¯t bring myself to admit what I was doing, feeling like it was too childish.

    After a moment, she said, ¡°Is it that?¡± and stayed with me. I sort of hesitated, unsure whether to look at her or the window, but drifted to the window as the silence dragged on.

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    We stood there, just looking at the rain on the window. Minutes slipping by, maybe an hour, hard to keep track.

    Eventually, there was a knock on our door. ¡°Dinner lady!¡± What the person said literally meant that, so I guessed that was her job.

    ¡°Two,¡± Hyraj said, raising her voice.

    ¡°Two,¡± the woman said back, then her muffled sound of footsteps moved on.

    I turned to Hyraj. ¡°They cook for you here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That is it, this job is usually for young men with an education, so cooking is not something they know,¡± she said.

    I tapped my thumb along, then muttered, ¡°That is it,¡± and turned back to the window. It was nice having something to distract me, keep me from thinking. Raindrops fell and time passed.

    Dinner, when it was served, wasn¡¯t too different from what Mrs Frinchen (and Fesa) made. Vegetables fried into a fritter thing, a nutty mash, but also with a soup¡­ kind of? It was quite thick, similar to yoghurt.

    Mrs Frinchen had cooked a bit different, probably because her kids were young, but I¡¯d noticed some things from the other places we¡¯d stayed. Dinner was usually fried vegetables and a mash and maybe something else. The fried vegetables were usually seasoned with something like ginger, a bit spicy, and the mash was usually creamy, like a very thick porridge.

    So it was a bit different tonight, but the creamy soup was about the same as mash anyway, and the mash tasted nice, reminding me of the ¡°garlic¡± mash I made in the forest. Three distinct flavours, different textures.

    I watched Hyraj for a moment. She always ate in the same way with these things, having one bit of one thing, swallowing it, then having a bite of the next. As if she measured it out, she always finished the different things at the same time. I realised now it was probably taught to her¡­. Etiquette, right?

    How Mrs Frinchen and her family ate was different. They had big spoons and scooped up two or three different things, not always the same amounts. I ate like Hyraj out of habit, thinking it was the polite way to eat here, but, tonight, I thought it was probably cultural.

    After all, Hyraj wasn¡¯t really a local here, was she? No¡­ she was, there were just different kinds of ¡°local¡±. She had spoken very carefully about it all, but she had clearly said she was of ¡°Krousten descent¡± and stuff like that. This was her home, not some place in Kroustoa.

    I knew too well what it was like being asked questions like, ¡°Where do you come from?¡± when all I knew was the country I called home.

    Those thoughts souring the food, I pushed them away. Food was supposed to taste good. So I carefully cut off some of the fritter and scooped up some of the soup, then chewed it all together. Oh, it was good, soup making the fritter not too rich, fritter making the soup not too plain. A milder flavour, but it was a lot of flavour. The mash and fritter, their flavours went together so nicely, same way garlic and chilli did. With the mash and soup, it was like the soup melted the mash on my tongue, spreading the soothing flavour around. All of them together was amazing, a gentle taste that, when I chewed, gave bursts of flavour.

    I wanted to tell Hyraj all about it, but, when I looked at her, still eating as she always did, the words died on my tongue. Was now really the best time to tell her she¡ªand maybe her entire culture¡ªwas eating wrong? Well, her people probably cooked meals differently. But still, today felt like a bad day to tell her to change.

    After dinner, out of habit, we settled down to sleep. The end of a long day. I was emotionally exhausted, drifting off quickly to the rain drumming on the window and howling wind.

    In the morning, I woke up to tinkling rain. It was still quite heavy, but, without the wind, it didn¡¯t sound as loud, didn¡¯t splat against the window as much. Gloomy, sun stuck behind thick clouds.

    I didn¡¯t know what the time was, but I didn¡¯t need to. Knowing I wasn¡¯t tired was enough. Sitting up, I glanced at the bed. Hyraj sat there, curtain a little drawn, hazy light falling on her as she read. Except that she noticed me immediately, slotting in her bookmark.

    ¡°I have work soon. Will you have breakfast now or later?¡± she asked.

    ¡°With you,¡± I said, then thought for a moment. ¡°Is it not¡­ weekend?¡±

    She softly smiled. ¡°To ask for a favour, a favour should be repaid.¡±

    I didn¡¯t understand at first, but then it sunk in where we were. Still, I had the instinctual urge to argue, or maybe whine was a better word. Wanted to remind her of the storm, even though she¡¯d said something like moving in here was so the weather wouldn¡¯t keep her from working.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    She went to shower first, then I did, no one else up at this hour¡ªexcept the cook. The same woman as last night. Like at Mrs Frinchen¡¯s, the bathroom was a concrete floor with a grate that drained outside, presumably on a slight angle so the water went that way, water pouring out an open pipe when the shower was turned on. The toilet and sink were in another room, this shower-room like a long closet. Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t as windy as last night, cold enough with just the chilly water and slight breeze that came in through the grate.

    Coming back to the room, idly drying my hair with the towel, I found Hyraj sitting at the desk again, reading. Always reading. She¡¯d mentioned that it was all she had to keep her mind sharp or something, the exact words escaping me. That this work would be good at keeping her brain busy.

    Her hair still looked damp, a shame there weren¡¯t hair dryers. Oh it was a nightmare getting the little ones to stay still while I dried their hair. Here, I couldn¡¯t imagine how much worse it was, towels not doing quite enough.

    Lost in those thoughts, I came up behind her and went to touch her hair. Thankfully, I stopped myself before I did, but the urge remained. How I wanted to dry it, brush it.

    All at once, a dozen thoughts bombarded me, crashing into each other and settling into a very weird shape. Weird, but¡­ compelling. It took me a moment to find the courage, then I said, ¡°Would it¡­ help if I braided your hair?¡±

    She thought for a moment, saying nothing as she slotted in her bookmark and closed her book. ¡°I suppose it would.¡±

    A burst of giddiness filled me up and I hung my towel on the hook on the back of the door, then started on her hair. Something small, not at all important, but it helped.

 Ch. 37 Brown hair

    It felt lonely without Hyraj. Amidst the sound of rain, I heard the other people living here wander through the hall, but I wanted to avoid them if possible. What happened with Mrs Frinchen was still fresh in my mind. Maybe it was immature, but I wasn¡¯t really much of an adult yet, was I? All those years looking after the little ones didn¡¯t help me grow up.

    However, staying cooped up in that room was going to drive me crazy even if I could watch the rain. So, around midday, I shuffled down to the kitchen, listening for anyone else around. Fortunately, it was just the cook there.

    She was a middle-aged woman, black hair with grey streaks poking out the sides of her sort of maid¡¯s cap, skin a darkish brown not too different from mine. Her dress covered her from neck to ankles, would have gone down to her wrists if she hadn¡¯t rolled them up. It looked like the same fabric as the pyjamas Hyraj bought me. A bit scratchy, but a nice fabric for the muggy heat, not sticking to my skin or leaving me feeling sweaty.

    ¡°Lunch is an hour, I¡¯m just¡ª¡± Turning around, she paused seeing me, a crinkle on her brow. ¡°Ah, new niece¡±¡ªshe literally said niece, but it was what older people called young women¡ª¡°you¡¯re with the miss, eh? Soup and bread for lunch, two bowls?¡±

    ¡°Oh, ah¡­ she is working? I don¡¯t know, will she come back for lunch?¡±

    She shooed with her hand. ¡°Nah, they feed ¡¯em over there. So just one?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, tapping my finger, then remembered why I was here. ¡°I¡­. Can I help?¡±

    A snort of laughter escaped her, clicking her tongue after. ¡°That is it, help, eh? They know, for all my years, never a customer want to help,¡± she said. ¡°Well, there¡¯s some small things.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t lying. The first job she gave me was washing hichkle, tub full of pea-potatoes  still on the ¡°vine¡±, covered in dirt. Still, it was better than being left in the room with only my thoughts for company.

    While I worked, I also watched, learned. There was a chest freezer in the room, maybe more of a fridge? However cold it was inside, it seemed expensive, chained to the wall with a metal loop. I hadn¡¯t seen any other sign of electricity, so wondered if it was magic. And it definitely did cool things, one of my tasks to chop up some of the hichjalt they grew on the farms, which was cold to the touch.

    Her cooking was interesting too. She used a fruit that tasted like tomato, but was like an orange with a thick peel and in slices inside, and I recognised something like the onions I¡¯d grown, but bigger and egg-shaped. Tomato, onion, carrot, potatoes¡ªthey all sounded good for a soup.

    But there was more to it than throwing those all in together. She cooked the onions in boiling water for a couple of minutes, then pur¨¦ed them and the tomatoes using a piece of cloth, squishing them through (well, she made me do that part).

    Then there was the ¡°stove¡±. I hadn¡¯t helped Mrs Frinchen cook, so this was my first time seeing one being used. It didn¡¯t look like it had an oven part, but the front did open to put coal (probably charcoal?) inside. The top then had circles of metal where she put the pot on to boil.

    When it came to the next step, though, she used another stove that had a hole in the top, flames flickering through it. With a wok, she cooked some spices first¡ªseeds and I definitely smelled the garlic-like smell¡ªbefore adding the pur¨¦e. That still wasn¡¯t the end, mixing in other spices after a few minutes. Moving it to the other stove to simmer, she took out another wok. I couldn¡¯t see well from behind her, but she fried the hichkle and hichjalt for a bit, a sweet smell in the air, then added some kind of batter she kept in a huge jug, pushing it together in the wok to make a fritter-looking thing.

    They seemed to really like vegetable fritters here.

    Whether or not she¡¯d baked the bread herself, I didn¡¯t know; either way, once done with the fritters, she cut up a loaf into wedges. No one else had done that, so I wondered if it was her style or maybe how it was done for this soup or soups in general.

    Eating back in my room, I liked the meal. A lot of flavour. I still wasn¡¯t sure why the wedge- shaped bread, though.

    Once I finished, I went through and helped her wash up and, later in the afternoon, helped her cook again. Simple tasks that didn¡¯t really matter, but I was happy just to watch. When Hyraj came back in the evening, well, she looked tired, so I left her to relax.

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    That became my routine. In the morning, I braided Hyraj¡¯s hair, then helped the cook with lunch and dinner.

    Quiet days. Like the cook knew, she didn¡¯t say much more than giving me tasks. Still didn¡¯t know her name. Hyraj spoke a little, but more like she was checking I was fine, that I didn¡¯t need something. From the little I asked her, I just knew that work was very busy now she wasn¡¯t on her trial period.

    Two days, three, four passed since we¡¯d come here, still rain falling. Not as heavy as the first night, but it picked up at times, sometimes barely a trickle or even stopping for a couple hours. Really was the stormy season.

    The days of the week didn¡¯t mean anything to me, their names as weird as my world¡¯s were. Still, waking up on ¡°Saturday¡±, I had a happy thought about Hyraj having the day off.

    Just that, as I sat up, I saw her dressed for work, brushing her hair. ¡°Weekend?¡± I awkwardly said, best my sleepy brain could do.

    ¡°There is a little more work to do before the deadline,¡± she said, then stilled, resting the brush on her lap. ¡°That is it¡­ would you come with me today?¡±

    I blinked, then immediately said, ¡°Yes,¡± no questions necessary. If she wanted me to go, I knew she had a good reason.

    She clapped with one hand and went back to brushing her hair, but I went over, taking the brush from her. For the few minutes it took, she sat still and I braided, then lifted it up and kept it in place with a smaller hair pin she¡¯d bought, ready to sit snugly under her hat.

    ¡°There we go,¡± I said.

    She chuckled. I wondered why, but she soon explained, saying, ¡°You do have a way of saying some things.¡±

    A blush threatened to come over me, cheeks hot. I hadn¡¯t ever thought so much about those kinds of phrases as I did these days, but some still came out, sounding funny to her. ¡°I¡¯ll just get ready quick,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°No need to rush, the building is hardly going to run off,¡± she said.

    I chuckled, but still rushed. There wasn¡¯t much for me to do and I was fine with just bundling up my hair, a bit of twisting enough to get it sitting nicely my hat, then my jumper over the top to keep the rain off my shirt; a shawl kept my head dry and the trousers were kinda woolly too, not really getting wet.

    Ready, we set off on the long walk¡­ to the next building along the street. An iron fence (or another iron-looking metal) surrounded it, gate tied open. Probably clanged a lot in this wind. We strode through, a drizzle not enough for Hyraj to hurry, then stopped under a small canopy sort of thing? Like, the overhang above the door. There was space for the both of us to brush off the water and a metal grate on the floor for cleaning shoes, bits of mud clinging to it.

    She knocked on the door while we dried ourselves. Soon, a nasally voice came from inside, saying, ¡°To whom am I speaking?¡±

    ¡°Miss Hyraj and acquaintance.¡±

    Not just unhurried and level, she spoke with¡­ authority? I didn¡¯t know how to explain it. Maybe the person inside knew what I meant, door opening. ¡°Acquaintance, is it?¡± the man said¡ªan old man, hair quite grey even though his face wasn¡¯t too wrinkled.

    ¡°I thought to introduce her to Mr Arl,¡± Hyraj said.

    Oh that made me curious, but I said nothing, just smiled, while those two finished their chat. Inside was like a reception, an open room with seats and a counter. A small room. What I noticed was the wooden floor, something the places I¡¯d been so far hadn¡¯t had. Maybe the clothing shop?

    ¡°Then, if we would be excused,¡± Hyraj said.

    ¡°Go on, go on,¡± he muttered, shuffling over to a chair.

    Hyraj led the way through one of the doors into a much larger room¡ªalmost all of the first floor, it looked like. But it was like an office? On the left and right sides, wooden panels broke up the space into cubicles with desks and shelving units with boxes? In the middle, there were large tables with chairs around; one had real mugs¡ªnot made of wood or metal¡ªand a jug with steam spiralling up from the spout. There were maybe some biscuits too? It was all very new to me and I could only tell so much by looking.

    There didn¡¯t seem to be anyone else here yet, which didn¡¯t surprise me considering we¡¯d left as soon as we¡¯d woken up, not even having breakfast, and it was the weekend. It turned out I was wrong, though.

    A heavy sigh cut through the room¡¯s silence. ¡°Sisi, I need that pen back.¡±

    ¡°Mr Arl, Miss Sisi, good day,¡± Hyraj said, speaking louder¡ªor maybe it was the room.

    A scraping sound, then a man appeared from inside one of the cubicles. ¡°Miss Hyraj, good day,¡± he said, smile not covering up how tired he looked. His gaze that set on Hyraj then turned to me. ¡°And to them.¡±

    I took a moment, still not too sure with greetings. ¡°Good day.¡± Copying them was fine, right?

    After saying that, movement by him caught my eye. Peeking around the corner was a young girl. By her height, I guessed five. Couldn¡¯t tell much else about her since her brown hair covered her face. Still, my heart just melted!

    Hyraj touched my elbow, getting my attention, then spoke softly. ¡°Mr Arl has to bring his daughter for certain reasons and I thought you might like to meet her.¡±

    Well, she was right. Falling into old habits easily, I squatted down and said, ¡°Hello. Was your name Sisi? Mine is Louise, but you can call me Loulou if that¡¯s hard to say.¡±

    She disappeared around the corner for a moment, then peeked out from behind Mr Arl¡ªher dad as Hyraj had said.

    Kids could be very shy at that age, so I didn¡¯t take it personally. Not to mention, even if Hyraj didn¡¯t tell me anything, I had a good guess about what was going on.

    I stood back up and Hyraj whispered to me, ¡°There should be time for you to have breakfast if you return now.¡±

    Thoughts swirled around my head, but I went along with her, giving Sisi one last look and a little wave. ¡°It was nice to have met you,¡± I said.

    A short walk back to the dormitory, but long enough for me to think about how she had brown hair¡ªnot black¡ªand how her hands weren¡¯t the same brown as her father¡¯s, not as pale as Hyraj¡¯s.

 Ch. 38 Baby steps

    After meeting Mr Arl and Sisi, I thankfully didn¡¯t have to wait until evening to talk to Hyraj. She returned after lunch¡ªdry, the rain finally stopping, streaks of sunlight poking through. I was helping the cook clean up, so heard her arrive and quickly put together some leftovers for her.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, then ate in silence. I knew she didn¡¯t like to talk while eating, so I wasn¡¯t going to ask her questions until she was finished.

    How many questions I had.

    For now, I just watched her eat. It was an interesting dish today. I could only guess, but the main part of it was like curdled bean milk? The cook had strained them and then fried them with some spices before putting them into like a pita bread with a ¡°blended¡± tomato and onion sauce she¡¯d simmered. Honestly, it was both very similar and very different to scrambled eggs on toast with tomato sauce. Sort of like you took the recipe and ran it through a thesaurus.

    The way Hyraj ate it, well, it was just like I had imagined she would. Eating it by myself earlier, I had wondered. Sure enough, she cut bits of the bread and scooped on more filling if it was lacking.

    Whether or not she liked, I couldn¡¯t tell. Thought it was because of her upbringing. She didn¡¯t eat faster or slower, didn¡¯t ask for more or leave some on her plate. In control of herself. I admired that, really. Like she wasn¡¯t being pushed around by the currents of life. A rock, steady and sturdy¡ªenough to keep me from being pulled under.

    With a clink, she put her cutlery down. A three-pronged fork and a knife that was like a ruler? Rectangular, the serrated edge not rounded, just the corners and holding part. And she put them down crossing, not next to each other.

    Busy distracting myself with those thoughts, of course she spoke first. ¡°That is it¡­ you said at the inn that you are good with children?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    She adjusted her position, turning more towards me than her plate. ¡°Mr Arl¡­ it would not be correct to call him my boss; however, I have been tasked with assisting him. As you saw, his daughter¡­ does not assist him in his work.¡±

    I chuckled, not often she made jokes and it was such a cute joke too.

    She waited a moment, then continued. ¡°While I would not like to talk of others without their presence¡±¡ªwhat a polite way to say gossip¡ª¡°you should know that his wife passed almost a year ago. They did have a nanny for Sisi who continued to work after that, but there was an incident recently and now he does not. Not only that, neither father nor daughter is too keen on being apart, so she has been coming into work with him.¡±

    I listened close, the humour I¡¯d felt quickly dying. She seemed to stop there, so I asked, ¡°Why?¡± A wrinkle appeared on her brow, so I asked more clearly. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡±

    She made a small gesture with her hand, sort of going from a fist to fingers spread apart, which I thought was like saying you understood based on how she¡¯d used it before. ¡°Forgive me, my mind is so full of thoughts of work these days. Is it that? Oh yes, the matter at hand. I mentioned to Mr Arl you may be interested in being a nanny.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t exactly surprising, but I hadn¡¯t really expected that answer.

    ¡°For now, you would be helping him to watch her at work,¡± she said. ¡°Once she is comfortable with you, then it would be at his house while he works.¡±

    Well, that was great, wasn¡¯t it? I wanted a job and this was probably the only job I could do. Still, something didn¡¯t sit right with me¡­. ¡°If you told me earlier, I would have stayed,¡± I said, trying to figure it out.

    Her small smile melted away, telling me I had hit close to whatever it was. ¡°You noticed her hair, did you not?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Yes? What about it?¡± I asked.

    She offered a sad smile. ¡°He wished to see your reaction upon meeting her before discussing it further. Some people, while perfectly polite with either those like me or those like him, become¡­ irrational about children like her.¡±

    I wished I didn¡¯t know what she meant, but I did. There¡¯d even been a child who ended up at the orphanage because both pairs of grandparents didn¡¯t want to take her in. Thankfully, her aunt managed to move to a bigger house for her, but I still remembered her crying in Mrs Jacob¡¯s arms, asking why her grandparents hated her.

    ¡°My reaction was fine, then?¡± I said, trying to push away those memories.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I smiled, not really meaning it. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t¡­ promise I will do it good. But I can try.¡± After thinking for a moment, I asked, ¡°Can we buy something small tomorrow? I¡¯ll give you money back.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said.

    After her busy week, I let her otherwise enjoy the rest of her weekend in peace. Could always practise magic when her work settled down and helping the cook kept me busy too. A lot to learn about cooking here, especially since, in my old world, my cooking was mostly just putting things into the oven and dishing up portions¡­.

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    Then it was ¡°Monday¡±.

    Getting ready, I felt giddy. A real job. Finally, I was going to take my first step¡­ even though babysitting was something, like, fourteen-year-olds could do back in my world. It didn¡¯t matter, though. Baby steps.

    Final hair pin in Hyraj¡¯s hair, I stepped back. ¡°Finished.¡±

    She stood up, putting on her hat as she did. ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t appreciated how well-made the road was the other day, but, going to a shop yesterday, realised that the world beyond the roads were a marsh. Somehow, the cobblestone roads were fine; I wondered if they were actually huge pieces of rock hammered into the ground.

    However they were made, I was glad I could cross the road easily and understood why the metal grate by the building¡¯s front door had so much mud in it. The receptionist let us in, making small talk with Hyraj as he did, her short answers apparently not coming off as curt to him.

    Despite the early hour, there were already a few other people in the main room. That included Mr Arl who, despite the day off, didn¡¯t look any more rested than when I saw him last. I hoped he didn¡¯t have to come in yesterday as well.

    Not just Mr Arl, but Sisi too.

    It took a bit of time to get to them, Hyraj introducing me to a couple other co-workers on the way, or was one of them her supervisor? What she said was more about explaining what I was doing here anyway.

    When we reached Mr Arl¡¯s cubicle, he said a tired, ¡°Good day, Miss Hyraj, Miss Louise.¡±

    ¡°Good day, Mr Arl,¡± we said back, almost in unison.

    For names, married people were usually addressed by surname as Mr or Mrs unless you knew them and were, like, at their house. Single people were called by their first names with Miss or, well, Master? Maybe Sir fit better, matching how short it was in their language. Children were just called by name.

    With that in mind, I leaned to the side to pick out Sisi, finally spotting her on the far side of the desk, maybe more shy with other people around the office. ¡°Good day, Sisi,¡± I whispered¡ªa loud whisper to reach her.

    She shuffled back behind the desk.

    ¡°Miss Hyraj has discussed this with you?¡± Mr Arl asked.

    I pulled my thoughts together, wanting to give a good impression, my sentences sometimes sloppy. ¡°That is it, I will try my best.¡±

    He gave me a long look, then moved his gaze to the side¡ªto Hyraj. ¡°She certainly is earnest.¡±

    There was nothing else important to say now and the work was still urgent, so Mr Arl went back to it while I settled at one of the large tables in the middle of the room. Chair sideways, I could see into his cubicle easily enough, watching Sisi. A sort of skill I had developed, I was good at doing one thing, but noticing as soon as a kid moved. Like if they were watching TV and I was doing homework, or if I was helping cook and one of them came in.

    That skill came in handy now. While Sisi stayed over by her dad, I took out a pair of sticks and a ball of yarn. Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure if this was the same as knitting, but it used two sticks and turned yarn into clothes, so I called it knitting.

    Mrs Frinchen had showed me the basics¡­ like, twice. Over a week ago. Still, I fiddled away, eventually getting somewhere with it. Once I had the first row of loops on one stick, I just had to take a minute to remember how to use the second stick to actually knit¡­.

    Thankfully, I didn¡¯t turn the whole yarn into a giant knot, managing to remember enough to do it. I made mistakes and probably made more mistakes I didn¡¯t notice, but it looked like knitting.

    The office filled up, a wave of chatter before silence settled, scratching of pens on paper and scrape of chairs moving, coughs and sighs and creaks and clatters.

    Sisi didn¡¯t move much from her spot. I noticed her sometimes reach up, taking something from the desk. Bored, maybe, or wanted attention. Now and then, she¡¯d peek around and catch my eye. I always smiled back for a moment, then went back to knitting, letting her watch if she wanted to.

    Breakfast soon arrived, trays of sandwiches. A few people rushed over, but the rest waited for the next trays with tea and mugs to come through, crowding the table. Mr Arl didn¡¯t move, so I put down my knitting and walked over.

    ¡°Mr Arl?¡±

    It took him a good few seconds to respond, not even looking away from the papers. ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°What sandwich does Sisi like?¡± I asked.

    I hadn¡¯t noticed before, but it was obvious now how his hand relaxed, had been clenching the pen. ¡°Any but for a lal one. She dislikes the smell,¡± he said, his voice softer when speaking about her.

    Smiling, I asked, ¡°And for you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need. A tea is enough,¡± he said.

    It wasn¡¯t my place, I knew, but I was here for Sisi, not him. ¡°Will she worry?¡±

    A longer pause, I guessed something he hadn¡¯t thought about before. ¡°Any will do.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Walking over to the table, my heart thumped. It wasn¡¯t easy for me to confront adults. Well, I could do it in the moment when my emotions were behind me, but then the emotions faded and nothing held me up. Especially men. For all people talked about women being emotional, you never knew what would set a man off and what he would do. Mr Arl seemed ¡°normal¡±, but still¡­ I had to watch myself.

    At the table, I waited for everyone else to take something. No rush. Hyraj joined me at some point, only realising because I recognised her hands when she reached for a plate.

    ¡°Did you want one?¡± she asked.

    I melted a little, wondering if she came up because she thought I was, like, scared to take a sandwich? ¡°Which ones are lal?¡± I asked.

    After a second, she pointed to one plate, the sandwiches there with a muddy sort of filling. Although curious, I picked sandwiches from another plate for myself and those two. As I turned around to go back, I caught Hyraj¡¯s expression and she looked quite amused, making me realise I¡¯d asked her about a specific sandwich and then picked entirely different ones. No surprise she found it funny.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whispered.

    ¡°No need for praise,¡± she whispered back, turning to the sandwiches.

    Lacking hands, I dropped off their plates first and then went back for tea for Mr Arl. When I came back to the desk, I saw him¡­ not exactly pulling, but trying to lead Sisi out from behind the desk.

    ¡°Know how, we eat at the table, don¡¯t we? Are we animals?¡±

    He spoke softly, but there was still some impatience¡ªstill a man¡¯s deep voice. I struggled to keep myself from saying something and lost that battle once I caught a glimpse of Sisi¡¯s watery eyes.

    ¡°Mr Arl?¡± I said.

    He sighed and turned around. ¡°Ah, thank you,¡± he said, looking down at the mug, then started to turn back.

    ¡°That is it¡­ is it¡­ more important for Sisi to eat or to sit at a table?¡±

    I tried to sound gentle, make it sound like a genuine question. The answer was obvious to me and I hoped it was obvious to him, but, if it wasn¡¯t, I didn¡¯t want him to think I was, like, telling him he was wrong or calling him a bad parent or¡ª

    ¡°When they put it like that,¡± he muttered and let go of Sisi¡¯s hand. Next, he moved a plate across his desk, leaving it by the edge Sisi hid behind. ¡°Shall we eat here today?¡±

    What I could see of her head quickly nodded, hair lagging behind. I hadn¡¯t seen too much of it, but it looked nice, washed, not exactly frizzy, just unbrushed.

    He let out a sigh and slowly turned to me again. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Not knowing the polite way to answer that¡ªwas Hyraj¡¯s ¡°no need for praise¡± polite?¡ªI simply smiled.

 Ch. 39 Opening up

    The first day of my new ¡°job¡± passed without me really doing much of a job. Sisi hid behind the desk or followed her dad, not sparing me more than a glance. That said, I got to see some of what Hyraj did, which made me appreciate what she was doing for us even more. Pages of numbers, all written by hand. The paper wasn¡¯t even lined, no grids, so I couldn¡¯t imagine how draining it was to do all that all day.

    Needless to say, I was extra nice to her when we went home. Well, all I could really do was take her plate after dinner and wash it up, but it was the thought behind it.

    The next day, we left early again and joined Mr Arl and Sisi at the office. I kept doing what I¡¯d done yesterday. When breakfast and lunch arrived, I brought them some, refilled his mug with tea through the day, water for Sisi. The rest of the time, I sat at my spot and knitted.

    After lunch, needing the toilet, I left my things there. A moment alone, I wondered if my plan was really going to work. It pretty much always had at the orphanage. Just sat near them, reading a children¡¯s book aloud. I couldn¡¯t do that in the middle of an ¡°office¡±, but I thought the knitting would work, something kids here would be interested in?

    Walking back, I couldn¡¯t think of anything else right now. Drawing, maybe, but I didn¡¯t know how expensive paper was, never mind if I could get colouring pencils. I hadn¡¯t looked too closely at the pens, but they needed to be dipped in ink¡­.

    My idle thoughts came to an abrupt stop upon entering the main room. Over at the table, seemingly unnoticed as everyone else was busy working, Sisi had snuck over, looking at my knitting.

    A smile came to me.

    As quietly as I could, I snuck up on her and then softly asked, ¡°Is it pretty?¡±

    She was a runner, not a freezer, the fright sending her in a hasty scramble back to her dad, hiding behind him as she clung to his leg. That set him off, broken from his concentration. He glanced at her, then at me with a stern look in his eye, then back to her as he let out a sigh.

    ¡°Had¡­ did Sisi¡¯s mother knit?¡± I asked, almost messing up the grammar. Still wanted to give a good impression.

    He shooed with his hand. ¡°Her grandmother¡±¡ªmother¡¯s side¡ª¡°did when she came for the funeral,¡± he said, quiet voice like he was speaking to himself.

    I had wondered if Sisi was like the little girl I knew, but it seemed like she wasn¡¯t. At least, I doubted he would speak so normally about someone who disowned his daughter, so it was probably just the case the grandmother lived far away. If there were cars or trains in this world, I hadn¡¯t seen any yet and Hyraj hadn¡¯t told me of them.

    ¡°That is it.¡±

    He tapped the table with his thumb, a silent ¡°yes¡±.

    I wanted to say more, to ask more, but bit my tongue. Didn¡¯t know where the line was yet. Little by little, no rush. I gave Sisi a smile and returned to my seat to pick up where I left off.

    The afternoon passed, at something like six o¡¯clock when most of the office left. I still hadn¡¯t seen a clock, but there must have been something, somewhere, keeping track of the time. Of course, Mr Arl didn¡¯t leave, so neither did Hyraj or I.

    Once the office cleared out, it was quiet. I hadn¡¯t noticed just how loud the scratching of pens and rustling of paper was. Really, it made me self-conscious about my knitting, needles clacking. I tried to be quiet, but, even if they were made of wood, they still made a sound when I went through the loop, a little tap that cut through the silence.

    As focused as I was, I noticed Sisi come closer. No longer behind the desk, she was behind her dad¡¯s chair, then next to it, then at the edge of his desk. Like she was tethered to it, she didn¡¯t move any closer.

    That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t.

    I shuffled around, knitting on my lap to let her see better. She stepped back at my movement, but didn¡¯t run away, staying there with her back to the chair. I knitted even slower, showing her how I looped the yarn and went through the loop, moving the loops from one needle to the other¡­. So many loops.

    Little by little, she shuffled closer, but never left the safety of her dad¡¯s desk. That was fine. I wasn¡¯t casting a magic spell, after all. This kind of thing took time.

    While I mostly used my noticing-when-busy skill for kids, I noticed Mr Arl moving too. He glanced over at her, then took a longer look, softly smiling, reaching out to pat her head before pulling back his hand. Scared of disturbing her, I guessed. He glanced at me for a moment too, but our eyes didn¡¯t meet; he probably didn¡¯t even know I noticed since I was looking down at my knitting.

    The four of us stayed about an hour later than the rest. He would have stayed longer, but Hyraj dropped off some papers and pointedly said, ¡°I am leaving now.¡± Pulled out of his work, he took a look at Sisi and sighed.

    She had been watching me until Hyraj approached, now hid behind her dad again, still had a tired look to her eyes. I was glad Hyraj came, the last half an hour spent thinking of how to bring up that she needed to eat and sleep soon.

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    In my rush of relief, I said, ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow, Mr Arl, Sisi.¡±

    Mr Arl gave me a look, confused smile tugging at his mouth. ¡°I suppose you will see us tomorrow?¡±

    Before I embarrassed myself more, I gave a little wave¡ªremembering the wave Hyraj used¡ªand turned around, waiting for Hyraj at her desk. My cheeks felt so hot, I was sure she would see them glowing when she looked at me. Thankfully, she only said, ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Stepping outside, I looked up and already saw some darker clouds racing across the sky. Only a few days before the next rain? Well, it was the stormy season.

    We walked back in silence, ate in silence, then sat in silence for a while. I had my knitting to keep me busy now, just that it was mostly undoing the last few rows after noticing a mistake I¡¯d made earlier. I had sort of focused more on showing Sisi than the actual knitting¡­.

    Hyraj rested for a while, sitting at the table with her book closed, but eventually opened it. Before she started reading, though, she asked, ¡°Are things going well with Sisi?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

    ¡°That is good.¡±

    I smiled to myself, such a Hyraj conversation.

    In the morning, we went through the same motions as the day before, the only difference now how Sisi watched me from the closer side of her dad¡¯s desk. Well, there were times when other people came to his desk (usually Hyraj) and she would scurry to the back for a bit.

    But lunchtime wasn¡¯t the same. When the food arrived¡ªkind of a curry with mash?¡ªHyraj came over to me. ¡°Shall we go have lunch in the village?¡±

    I didn¡¯t think much of it, guessing she didn¡¯t like the food today. ¡°Of course. Can I¡­ serve for Mr Arl and Sisi first?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    So I lined up for that and, waiting, I had a good idea. After bringing food for them, I asked Mr Arl, ¡°Would it be fine for me to leave the knitting here? I am going out for lunch.¡± As I spoke, I tried to tell him with my eyes that Sisi could play around with it if she wanted to, but his lack of reaction made my stomach sink.

    ¡°To watch it? I think there¡¯s no need to worry,¡± he said, making a small motion with his hand as he spoke.

    Ah, it clicked. I still wasn¡¯t all that good at ¡°speaking¡± with my hands, but tried to gesture from the knitting to Sisi without her noticing. It took him a few goes to understand, but it looked like he finally did, smile coming to his tired face.

    ¡°That is it, we wouldn¡¯t want an accident, of course,¡± he said.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, smiling.

    Mission accomplished, I went over to Hyraj and she led us out into the village. A strong, warm wind blew, clouds covering most of the sky above us, but the rain hadn¡¯t started yet. Underneath us, there was still mud in patches. The hot weather and sunshine had dried up a lot of it, but, in some places, the water had settled rather deep.

    Rather than the bakery, she took us to the inn. I wasn¡¯t going to complain since we¡¯d eaten sandwiches for breakfast the last few days. That said, what she ordered wasn¡¯t all that different to what the office¡¯s cooks had brought in.

    Back in my world, I didn¡¯t know much about, like, Indian food¡ªwell, the Indian food you could get in England. To me, curry was a jar of orange-coloured sauce poured into a pan with leftover strips of roast chicken, served with a packet of microwaved rice.

    The style of food here seemed more like real Indian curry to me. A thick sauce, lots of bits in it, full of flavour. People always talked about the smell and the flavour and, if it was like this, I could see why. It didn¡¯t taste¡­ all blended together. The vegetables, the spices, the sauce¡ªyou could taste them all.

    Walking back to the office, I had a spring in my step. If good food wasn¡¯t already enough to put me in a good mood, coming to Mr Arl¡¯s cubicle, I saw my knitting had definitely been moved.

    He didn¡¯t notice me at first, eyes tightly shut as he rubbed his forehead. I couldn¡¯t imagine the kind of headache this work gave you. So I left him for now, taking a moment to fill up his mug with tea and Sisi¡¯s with water. Some water for me too. I didn¡¯t mind the tea, but felt bad since I didn¡¯t actually work here.

    When I put Sisi¡¯s mug down, he opened his eyes, maybe the light thunk alerting him. I smiled and took half a step back from his desk. He looked at the mugs, then smiled back at me while doing another little gesture.

    Sisi was watching us. Knowing that, I took another step¡­ not literally. ¡°I don¡¯t know if Hy¡ªMiss Hyraj told you, but I¡¯m an orphan,¡± I said. Well, a ¡°no-parents¡±.

    ¡°Is it that? My condolences,¡± he said, and I noticed his tone was softer¡ªlike when he spoke to Sisi.

    Focused on letting Sisi know that, I only now realised I had no clue what to say next. After a moment of silence, I slowly said, ¡°That is it,¡± and hoped something would come to mind¡­ but it didn¡¯t.

    Out of options, I just awkwardly smiled and shuffled back to my seat, bringing my knitting with me.

    For a good hour or so, I sat there, stewing in my embarrassment. Then I had to stop the self-pitying because Sisi had come closer. Not just the edge of her dad¡¯s desk, but up to the big table I was sat at.

    ¡°Hello, Sisi, is there something you want to ask? Or you want to watch?¡± I whispered.

    She looked so small, hunched over now she wasn¡¯t clinging to her dad or peeking over the top of his desk. So close, I could appreciate how nice her hair was, thick for her age, but fluffy, perfect for braids.

    ¡°You have no mama too?¡± she whispered, barely louder than the scratching pens and rustling papers. But I heard, had to hear in case she couldn¡¯t muster the courage to ask again.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    Her hands fidgeted, or maybe not? I thought I noticed some gestures her dad made. Well, if she did, I didn¡¯t know what they meant. ¡°She died?¡±

    ¡°Mm, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    I expected a reaction from that and I certainly got it; she looked up at me, some of the hair covering her face parting as she did, a cute wrinkle between her eyebrows and a cuter pout on her lips. Kids loved showing their emotions on their face and I loved seeing them.

    ¡°That is it¡­ my parents decided they don¡¯t want to be parents, so I went to a home for children with no one to look after them,¡± I said. A rehearsed speech, kind of based on how I used to tell new children at the orphanage why I was there.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she mumbled, looking back down.

    I wanted to pat her head so badly, such a cutie. But I didn¡¯t. Kids needed their personal space and boundaries too. ¡°It¡¯s different to you, but a little bit the same too. That¡¯s how it is for everyone, right? We have things the same and things different.¡±

    She didn¡¯t seem to react to that, hard to tell now that she was hiding behind her hair again.

    ¡°Well, I am going to knit some more now. I don¡¯t have a mama to show me, so I¡¯m learning to do it by myself¡ªdo you like it?¡± I asked.

    After a long few seconds of silence, she tapped her thumb and forefinger. That familiar gesture that meant ¡°yes¡±.

    ¡°It maybe is hard, but can I teach you? I want to practise if I have a daughter,¡± I said, making mistakes now I was ¡°off-script¡±. Still, I was sure I made enough sense for her to understand.

    Second after painful second ticked by, making me doubt I had properly gauged how hooked she was, until she finally made that little gesture again.

    I¡¯d done it.

 Ch. 40 Said and unsaid

    I thought the last rain had been a storm; I was wrong. We struggled to make it back after her work closed early, wind shoving us around, drops painful on my bare skin. Inside, it sounded like hail how loudly it hit the front door behind us, not to mention the building¡¯s groans, wind¡¯s howls. Silence wasn¡¯t so silent any more.

    Still, I hoped Sisi and Mr Arl made it back safely. He didn¡¯t, well, look particularly strong, his job to sit around and write down numbers¡­ but he was still a man, right? As long as Sisi was covered up, he could carry her back no problem.

    I hoped.

    Trying to break away from worrying, I looked at Hyraj. She wasn¡¯t going to be much help, though, reading her book. Especially when it rained, she liked to read. Maybe something she¡¯d done as a child?

    Hyraj as a child, wasn¡¯t that enough to put a smile on my face? A cute little thing, her hair like Sisi¡¯s¡ªno, she would have had someone to comb it, so done up nicely. Oh, maybe bunches?

    There was no way for me to see that, but, if she had a daughter one day, I would love to meet her. Maybe¡­ a long time from now, we would both have children and meet up, and they would play together.

    A lot of emotions swirled around my chest, but imagining the two of us watching our children play together¡ªI liked it. Wanted it. A calm, peaceful future.

    I passed the time imagining that. A quaint cottage in the countryside, garden with some flowerbeds and meadowy grass, tall enough that the children disappeared when they lay down in it, playing hide and seek. And Hyraj, sitting on a blanket under a tree, picnic laid out in front, book in hand, her eyes often darting up to check on the kids.

    Coming out of my thoughts, I pushed myself up to my feet and took a deep breath. The storm still, well, stormed outside, listening to it again sort of putting me on edge. Like my brain knew that I wouldn¡¯t do well at all if the walls weren¡¯t protecting me.

    Not wanting to dwell on that, I shuffled through to the kitchen where the cook was taking out ingredients. While I didn¡¯t know much about her, I knew she lived here, some things she¡¯d mentioned making me think her kids were adults now, no mention of her husband. Maybe he¡¯d died, maybe he¡¯d left her (or she¡¯d left him). None of my business, so I didn¡¯t think too much about it.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re back,¡± she said, grinning at me. ¡°Good, good. We cook something nice tonight. When it¡¯s like this, a warm meal is best, eh?¡±

    I smiled in answer.

    A warm meal turned out to be vegetable fritters and curry¡ªdifferent to the one I¡¯d eaten for lunch. Rather than ¡°creamy¡±, this one was tomato-based, still full of spices, but more¡­ not vinegary, but tangy? Which went well with the almost sweet fritters, vegetables caramelised in the wok, maybe some sugar added to the batter when I wasn¡¯t looking? Last of all, there was, like, rice bread. I was busy with other things, so didn¡¯t see every step, but she used ousickle flour to make a dough (I got to help knead it), then rolled them into thin sausages and steamed them. On their own, they were a bit chewy and tasteless, but wonderful with the curry, a great contrast to the crunchy fritters.

    As much as I enjoyed the dinner, I couldn¡¯t tell if Hyraj did. Was there a point in asking a question if the answer was always the same?

    For now, I just took our plates through to wash. It kind of surprised me she let me do that. When we were camping, she always washed up if I cooked. Well, she was working hard, so it was natural for her to let some things slide.

    After I finished that and came back, she was reading again. I left her to it. Sitting on the bed, I looked out the window, almost black outside despite the hour with how thick the clouds were, how heavy the rain fell. About time for sunset, but looked like the middle of the night.

    Not an interesting sight, I closed the curtains and turned back to Hyraj, ready to watch her. Just that I soon noticed she hadn¡¯t turned the page for a while. I didn¡¯t worry at first, being lost in thought something that happened to her at times, but a minute passed, two, still on the same page.

    And her hand shook.

    I stood up and took the two steps over to her side. ¡°Is there no problems?¡± I whispered.

    Her hand stilled and I heard her draw in a deep breath before letting it out. ¡°There are no problems,¡± she said, her voice normal¡ªtrying to be normal.

    I rested my hand on top of hers. ¡°Please, tell me if it is help,¡± I said, only to cringe at using the wrong word.

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    ¡°Would help,¡± she muttered, reflexively correcting me, then said, ¡°That is it¡­ I do not know if it would help.¡±

    ¡°Would it hurt?¡± I asked.

    She had no answer, silence stretching on for seconds, then she spoke. ¡°It is¡­ the storm. I did not much fear it before. However, that night¡­ that night beneath the tree, I thought I would die. I thought I would die and then you took my hand, pulling me to the safety of your house of mud and straw.¡±

    Pausing there, she let out a chuckle, hand over her mouth. ¡°It is funny,¡± she whispered. ¡°I realised then that even those which are weak to the rain may withstand it better than I with all my pride. Perhaps, even now, that house still stands in defiance of the weather.¡±

    I waited a moment to make sure she was finished. ¡°That is wrong,¡± I said, squeezing her hand as I did. ¡°The mud¡­ still washes away, but I build it up again. And the mud wasn¡¯t strong if there wasn¡¯t wood to hold to and if there wasn¡¯t straw mixed in it. That house¡­ is definitely gone. Maybe a pile of wood and rotten straw or less.¡±

    The words kept coming, trying to keep me distracted from what she¡¯d said before talking about the house. My heart still beat so painfully at the thought of her dying. I didn¡¯t want to think about it, I didn¡¯t want to think about how scared she must have been¡ªhow thankful I was that I did bring her to my ¡°house¡±.

    However, there was something important I had to say. ¡°Thank you for telling me.¡±

    She let out a breath of almost laughter, her hand turning around to hold mine, giving a squeeze. ¡°Having you close like this calms me,¡± she said. Whispered. A gentle voice, only just loud enough to be heard over the storm outside.

    ¡°Then I will always be close like this when it storms,¡± I said back, laughter on the tip of my tongue at her rare weakness, so cute.

    ¡°Do you promise?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I do.¡±

    Her hand squeezed mine again, tight, but not painful, and didn¡¯t let up. As if she was going to keep me to my promise.

    After maybe a minute like that, her grip loosened¡ªbut she didn¡¯t let go¡ªand she began to read the book aloud. It was the same book she had used to teach me how to read, not exactly a chance for her to get new ones since we began travelling together. So she read, turning the page with one hand, and I listened, the two of us awkwardly sitting on the chair together. Outside, the rain pounded against the glass, wind howled, bursts of lightning and rumbling thunder.

    The next morning, it still stormed. Not as hard, but hard enough that someone knocked on the door, saying, ¡°Work¡¯s cancelled for the day,¡± before going to the next room, their heavy footsteps mixing with the rain.

    Hyraj wasn¡¯t so clingy today, though, so I helped the cook with breakfast, then did my washing, then helped with lunch. A busy morning. For the afternoon, I went back to my knitting. The rain was nice for that. Normally, the clacks sounded so loud in our little room.

    At some point, I tried to remember what day of the week it was, thinking it was ¡°Friday¡±. I knew Hyraj had been working hard, but had no clue if she¡¯d caught up on the work. ¡°Do you¡­ work tomorrow?¡± I asked, blanking over what word to use for ¡°have¡±.

    ¡°That is it.¡± She paused to close her book, then continued. ¡°I would say I am not needed; however, Mr Arl could use the help. We will have to see.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Another night, another morning, our routine comfortable by now. Used to the hair pins, I could do up her hair even faster now. But I didn¡¯t. This little moment we had was soothing for me, familiar, a tiny warmth that kept away the cold loneliness. There was¡­ trust that came with letting someone do your hair.

    ¡°There we go,¡± I said, stepping back.

    She touched her hair, then slipped on her hat and stood up. ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    We covered up as best we could and walked over to the office at a brisk pace, the rain still falling, just not as stormy. We scraped our shoes and greeted the ¡°receptionist¡± and joined Mr Arl and Sisi in the office¡ªthe only ones there. Even after an hour, the only person who had come through was a cook or someone like that, bringing in a plate of sandwiches.

    As for Sisi and I, we knitted. Kind of. It was too fiddly for her, the way she held the needles like she was going to use them for stabbing. So I tried to hold her hands and guide her through the steps, but, a beginner myself, I struggled with it. That she was sitting opposite me, so I was basically knitting backwards, really didn¡¯t help.

    It didn¡¯t matter, though. She was only four or five, ¡°success¡± very different to her now than if she was older. Kids this age just liked feeling involved and that was great for helping them develop their motor skills. Like, if we were baking, she would be happy to just pour the ingredients I measured into a bowl and give it a stir before I took over.

    So we made a mess of the yarn. That was fine¡ªas long as she was enjoying herself. It seemed like she was, focused, constantly brushing aside her long fringe to see better.

    That, well, I hesitated all morning, a ribbon in my pocket. A lot of little thoughts floated around my mind. I knew they had a maid at home, so there must have been a reason why she didn¡¯t help with Sisi¡¯s hair. Mr Arl was busy, but he was willing to bring her into work and all this, so there must have been a reason he hadn¡¯t taken her for a trim.

    Anyway, these kinds of things were best done slow.

    ¡°Sisi?¡±

    She took a moment to stop, so focused. ¡°Mm?¡± she said, not really much of a talker.

    ¡°Do we want to practise braiding? With the yarn,¡± I said, a bit disjointed as I messed up, stuck between asking ¡°do you¡± and ¡°should we¡±. Kept making these kinds of silly mistakes.

    ¡°Braiding¡­ like hair?¡± she whispered.

    I softly smiled, her weak voice saying so much. Instead of answering her with words, I took a loose bundle of yarn and pulled it out into three bunches, showing her a few braids with it.

    She kept her hands on her knees, face hiding behind her hair. Eventually, though, her hand moved, thumb tapping her forefinger. My smile grew, but still held some of the sadness I felt from her.

    ¡°It¡¯s easy, see?¡± I said, doing a few more braids. ¡°You go from the outside to the inside, left and right and left and right. If you forget left or right, look here, see? We went from left before, so now we went right.¡±

    Another day of lessons to pass the time.

 Ch. 41 Changes

    The rain didn¡¯t quite want to stop, so, even though Hyraj had ¡°Sunday¡± off, we didn¡¯t go anywhere. I had hoped to buy some more yarn with my first bit of pay, but at least I could pay back Hyraj. A quiet day, watching the rain, calm.

    Then Monday rolled around and our working week began again. At least now, we stayed home for breakfast, no need to go in as early or stay as late, time in the evening to help with dinner. And in-between, I kept Sisi entertained. The novelty of trying something new wore off and maybe she wasn¡¯t so wary of me, more willing to fidget, less willing to focus, so I had to switch between knitting and braiding, and I asked Hyraj about scrap paper for drawing, using charcoal sticks for that¡ªwrapped in a bit of fabric to not get so messy. I wasn¡¯t great with them, but good enough to impress a five-year-old who didn¡¯t know better.

    Challenging. Fun. Sisi had seemed so familiar at first, like so many of the young girls who ended up at the orphanage, only to bloom into herself a little more every day. I would have liked to take her out so she could exhaust herself, running around a field or something like that. But I didn¡¯t want to ask yet, feeling too soon for Mr Arl to trust me, and I didn¡¯t really know the area well, getting lost the last thing I¡¯d want to do.

    So it was a quiet week, full of knitting and braiding and charcoal scribbles. The rain fell and lightened and poured, changing its mind all the time, for a couple more days before finally stopping, the week ending with some sunshine.

    Saturday morning, after finishing up breakfast and washing the plates, I came back to the room to see Hyraj reading. It was awkward. No, I was awkward. All I wanted to do was tell her I was going for a walk, but my brain thought up all these things she might say, stupid things that weren¡¯t anything like her.

    Old scars. I hadn¡¯t asked for much in my life, but, the little I had, the answer was always no. There wasn¡¯t money for new toys, new clothes. Mrs Jacob didn¡¯t know how to make a unicorn cake. It was safe to tell me no, wouldn¡¯t lead to a meltdown like some of the other kids. I was older, I understood, I didn¡¯t know what they were going through.

    Why would Hyraj say anything like that about me going for a walk? Still, the whole point of scars were that they stayed behind long after the wound closed up, not quite the same as before.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going out,¡± I said, forcing out the first word and letting my courage catch up afterwards.

    ¡°Mm,¡± she said. My heart relaxed. ¡°A moment, please, and I shall join you.¡±

    My heart pounded. ¡°N-no need, I am just¡­ walking around?¡±

    Looking over to the window, she said, ¡°It would be nice for some fresh air and gentle exercise.¡±

    For a moment, I kept scrambling for some excuse that would keep her from joining me¡­ then I realised I didn¡¯t need one. If anything, I was happy she wanted to come along. ¡°Okay.¡±

    A moment became a minute, her lighter ¡°bedroom clothes¡± covered up with another layer, comfortable shoes swapped for her boots. I had already done her hair out of habit, so that just needed her hat.

    ¡°Ready?¡± she asked.

    I tapped my thumb.

    Outside, the air had lost the freshness it had from rain, instead¡­ horribly humid. Well, I already knew that from yesterday. Humid air and a not-too-nice smell from the swampy mud. There was a breeze, though, clearing away some of the stuffiness when it blew.

    Although I was the one who brought up the walk, she led the way. I didn¡¯t know where to. We didn¡¯t go towards the shops in the centre of the village, instead farther along the road that the tax office and dormitory were on.

    It was, well, a nicer part of town? The houses here bigger with gardens at the front that weren¡¯t just for herbs, fences made of brick or metal, some even hid behind tall hedges. Not too many, though. Twenty? I wasn¡¯t keeping count as we went.

    Beyond them was a stable to mark the edge of town, then there were fields. Flooded fields that were mostly underwater; however, shoots and young plants poked out, teal-coloured, almost blending in with the murky water if it wasn¡¯t so muddy. A couple of the larger plants started to look bushy, the long stems drooping over, leaves hanging down.

    ¡°I believe those are ousickle,¡± Hyraj said. Rice. ¡°The gaps are perhaps lal? I seem to remember that it takes a year to ferment, so that would explain why it is cheap at the moment.¡±

    Smiling to myself, I thought, if it weren¡¯t for her lessons, she might not have said more than a sentence to me all these months. ¡°Really?¡±

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    ¡°Well, it is that some of the paperwork has been for sales of lal, which reminded me.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your hard work.¡±

    She let out a breath of laughter, then muttered, ¡°Hard work? If only the problem with it was the difficulty of calculation rather than in reading the handwriting.¡±

    My turn to giggle.

    Our wandering didn¡¯t go farther than those fields, soon turning around. On the way back, we saw a couple families of those big houses¡ªpeople who looked like me. I was used to seeing them around by now. something I hadn¡¯t really thought about, I couldn¡¯t remember seeing people like Hyraj. If her ancestors came from the north, we were maybe to the south of this island. She hadn¡¯t really told me how big it was and where we were on it. Or maybe this was normal, only a few people like her here at all, never mind where we were. She had said that people from Kroustoa didn¡¯t like the climate here.

    Not helpful thoughts, I tried to push them away.

    Walking through the village centre, we followed another road out of town where the houses soon gave way to barns and workshops? I wasn¡¯t too sure. Wandering back, we took a different road, a lot of children out playing in the street for this rare bit of sunshine.

    Coming back to the high street, Hyraj asked, ¡°Have they walked enough?¡±

    It still took me a moment when people used ¡°they¡± instead of ¡°you¡±. ¡°Mm, yes,¡± I said. We had pretty much seen everything the village had to offer. It was kinda funny, how she had said this was a big village, or at least big enough for the council thing. How many people lived here? Maybe a hundred houses, so like six hundred people? A thousand?

    I wasn¡¯t good at guessing.

    Back at the dormitory, we had a quiet rest-of-the-day. Hyraj read and I, with nothing to do and nothing to distract me, made circles with my hands, idly ¡°practising¡± magic again. I hadn¡¯t really tried properly since we stopped travelling, though. Just used it to fill up boring moments like these. Of course, I hadn¡¯t made any progress. Probably had gone backwards.

    Well, it didn¡¯t matter. It wasn¡¯t like I could go back to that simple life out in the woods.

    One relaxing day, another, then back to work. Refreshed and ready to go¡ªas long as another storm didn¡¯t roll in. Walking over to the office, I looked up at the grey sky, wondering, hoping not.

    We were some of the earliest in the office, beating Mr Arl and Sisi for once. While the other workers were, well, they weren¡¯t unfriendly with Hyraj, but they entirely ignored me. Same way they treated the people who brought food and drinks through. Hyraj, a couple of them made small talk with her. She didn¡¯t exactly respond enthusiastically, but it didn¡¯t look like¡­ they were racist.

    There I went, having dark thoughts when left alone for too long. Fortunately, before I could work myself into another mental mess, Mr Arl arrived, Sisi shuffling in behind him.

    He saw me and gave a small smile, but stopped at Hyraj¡¯s desk before his own. I wasn¡¯t too curious, the two often talking about work, instead focused on Sisi, giving her a smile and a small gesture. It wasn¡¯t quite a wave, sort of like the ¡°yes¡± gesture in reverse, pressing my thumb to my forefinger, then sliding all my fingers away, keeping my thumb where it was. No wonder I¡¯d confused it with the other gesture and otherwise not noticed.

    The adults didn¡¯t talk for long, but, coming over to his desk, he had an awkward look on his face? I wasn¡¯t sure. Confusing me more, he stopped by me¡ªand not to hand over Sisi.

    ¡°Good day,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good day, Mr Arl, Sisi,¡± I said.

    He stayed standing there in front of me. For a second, I wondered if I¡¯d done something wrong¡ªwas I supposed to stand up or bow? But then he softly cleared his throat and spoke.

    ¡°That is it¡­ Sisi seems to be settled, so I thought it best if they would stay at home now. If they are in agreement, I thought at lunch tomorrow I could show them to the house and introduce them to the maid.¡±

    I sort of forgot he was talking to me by the end, so I was slow to respond and rushed when I finally did. ¡°Oh, well, it is¡­ best for Sisi, yes.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything I should ask to not be cooked?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so¡­¡± I said, only for it dawn on me that this seemed the sort of job that paid quite well. ¡°Just not¡­ helvith.¡±

    He gave a snort of laughter, almost making me flinch, a sharp and sudden sound that made me keenly aware of how close he was. I kept my smile, but turned to the side and picked up my knitting to distract myself.

    ¡°I will pass that on, then,¡± he said.

    Caught up in that whirl of anxiety, I caught a glance of Hyraj and the words came out without thinking. ¡°Will H¡ªMiss Hyraj be there too?¡±

    He made a gesture with his hands. ¡°It would be no infringement of my hospitality,¡± he said¡ªa phrase that came up in Hyraj¡¯s book. Maybe it wasn¡¯t supposed to sound as posh, but that was sort of how it came out literally? Hard to grasp some meanings when Hyraj was pretty posh to start with¡­.

    Out of things to say, I just smiled. After a few seconds, he carried on to his desk, Sisi staying behind with me. Pushing away all my other thoughts, I focused on my job.

    ¡°What should we do today?¡± I asked her, almost a whisper. Tried not to disturb everyone working.

    She stared at my knitting. ¡°We can knit?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    While my mind tried to wander off every opportunity it had, I was thankfully good at looking after kids even when I couldn¡¯t stay focused. We knitted for a while, we practised braiding, we scratched out some drawings. Her fine motor skills were actually quite good for her age. How she held the charcoal stick¡­ I glanced at her dad, wondering if she had copied him, maybe holding a twig and drawing in the dirt.

    I didn¡¯t really know anything about what her life was like before her mum passed away. Didn¡¯t know much about her life now either. That was fine. Knowing helped, but my job was to help her grow.

    Looking at her, she pouted, intently focused on what she was drawing, still transitioning from scribbles to actually recognisable shapes. Her fluffy hair fell loose around her, often brushing it aside to see better. On the thinner side, like she hadn¡¯t been eating well, and shorter, like she also hadn¡¯t been sleeping well.

    It wasn¡¯t an incredible ¡°purpose¡±. It wasn¡¯t saving the world, or starting a technology revolution, or discovering something amazing. But I was never an incredible person, just someone with little to give who wanted to give it.

    This was something I could do to change the world and I was happy to do it.

 Ch. 42 Sisi

    With lunch at Mr Arl¡¯s house planned, I awoke to the drizzling rain and hoped it wouldn¡¯t get worse. My wish was granted. It drizzled and spat, but stayed light through the morning and, eventually, midday arrived.

    In the midst of everyone else getting up to grab lunch or head out, Mr Arl tidied up his stack of papers. Sisi and I waited to the side and tried to stay out of the others¡¯ way. It wasn¡¯t the busiest office, around ten people? I didn¡¯t pay much attention to them, so not sure if they all came in every day. Anyway, there weren¡¯t many of them, but they were¡­ kind of gruff men. I didn¡¯t know how to explain it, there was just a feeling like some men wanted a reason to cause a fuss, so I kept out their way¡ªand kept the kids away from them too.

    Once they all shuffled around, Mr Arl stood up; he lifted his chair as he did, not scraping it across the floor, and even tucked it back in. Not for the first time, I thought he might be as posh as Hyraj.

    He let out a sigh and rubbed his wrinkled brow and then turned to us with a tired smile. ¡°Shall we go?¡± he asked.

    My heart squeezed, glancing over at Hyraj¡¯s cubicle¡ªand catching her eye. She looked back at me with a slight smile. ¡°Yes,¡± I said softly, heart loosening up again.

    He came over and held out his hand, Sisi stepping up to take it, then those two led the way while I followed, Hyraj joining me when we passed her cubicle. There were some looks from the others in the room, but they went back to eating quickly enough and it didn¡¯t much matter what they thought of me any more. This would be my last time at the office, after all.

    Outside, Mr Arl took a moment to coax Sisi into wearing her hat, the two softly talking, voices drowned out by the drizzle. I wanted to interfere out of habit, but, well, if he wanted me to, he would have asked.

    Finally, she put her hat on, only to then ask, ¡°Papa, where are we going?¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°I told you at breakfast, didn¡¯t I? We¡¯re showing Miss Louise the house so she can play with you there.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, then turned to me and held out her hand.

    I hesitated for a moment, but, glancing at Mr Arl, he just smiled, so I took her little hand.

    ¡°Follow me.¡± She had an unusual tone to her voice, like she was copying her dad. That happened a lot when they were small.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    So now Sisi and I led the way, Mr Arl and Hyraj following behind, walking along the road in the rain. There weren¡¯t umbrellas, but there were more layers of clothing. While my goddess-given jumper was pretty much waterproof, it was hot, so I¡¯d borrowed a sort of rain cloak from Hyraj, made of treated cloth that looked and felt a bit waxy. I hadn¡¯t looked too closely before, but my hat was the same.

    That said, it was only a drizzle and it wasn¡¯t too far to their house. Going along the road, it was the third house down, maybe a hundred steps¡ªmore for Sisi, of course. One of those posh houses, but not the poshest. It had a metal fence around it, waist high, bars criss-crossing with the top making an up-and-down zigzag. Bushes then lined the inside, poking through the fencing at some points.

    Sisi let go of my hand to hold the gate, reaching up to undo the latch, just tall enough to do it. I almost laughed, so cute how she decided she needed to do it out of all of us here. The moment the gate opened, she held my hand again, tugging me inside.

    I took a brief look around at the garden¡ªdidn¡¯t want to seem nosy. It was, well, it had seen better days. Not overgrown with weeds, but the grass¡­ was it even grass? Close enough. Anyway, the grass grew terribly thick and tall, would be halfway up my thighs if I walked into it, not sure if I could walk into it. Some spots by the house looked like they had other plants growing there, only to be swallowed up by the grass, dried stems poking out all that was left. No doubt, there were more dead plants that weren¡¯t tall enough to be seen.

    As for the size, the front area wasn¡¯t huge, ten steps to the house and the garden didn¡¯t stretch much wider than the house. No clue how big it was behind.

    The house, then, looked quite different to the ones in the village centre. It was about the same width, but two storeys tall and made of bricks. While I couldn¡¯t get too good of a look, it seemed very measured out, all straight edges and the windows lined up and all that, which wasn¡¯t exactly the case with most other buildings in the village.

    Sisi still leading the way, she was the one who knocked. Such light knocks, I worried the maid wouldn¡¯t hear, but a voice soon called out, ¡°The Arl and formerly Helchen residence, who am I speaking to?¡±

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    A young voice¡ªmaids in Victorian times were mostly teen girls, weren¡¯t they? The accent reminded me of Mr Arl, though.

    ¡°It¡¯s me, big cousin,¡± Sisi replied. Big cousin¡­ from Hyraj¡¯s book, I knew children sometimes called older girls ¡°big sister¡±, but not cousin? She wouldn¡¯t do that for a maid either.

    ¡°Ah, Sisi! Have you brought Uncle Arl and your friends for lunch?¡± the person asked as a grating sound came from the door. The next moment, it opened, an older girl appearing in the gap. At a guess, she was fifteen, but I hadn¡¯t been too good at telling ages here.

    Apparently impatient, Sisi turned and looked up at me. ¡°First, we wipe our feet,¡± she said.

    I held back my laugh and said, ¡°Okay.¡±

    As if showing me how, her movements were pretty exaggerated as she scraped her boots on the metal grate, only stopping once I¡¯d done it too. She then brushed off the rain on her cloak and stepped up inside, tugging me in behind her.

    ¡°This is Miss Loulou,¡± she said, gesturing at me while looking at the maid. That introduction done, she gestured at the maid while looking at me. ¡°This is Big Cousin Frinnie. Well, I suppose you should call her Miss Frinnie.¡±

    ¡°Miss Frinnef,¡± said the big cousin in question, a touch of laughter to her voice, smiling so wide it made her cheeks puff up.

    ¡°Miss Louise. It was nice to have met you,¡± I said, making the sort of greeting gesture I¡¯d recently learned. The phrase itself was a bit odd to me, different tense and all, but it was at least similar to the one I knew, making it easier to remember.

    ¡°Nice to have met you too,¡± she said, some of her accent slipping away. More casual.

    From behind us, Mr Arl cleared his throat. I got the message and led Sisi forward a few steps to let those two in.

    ¡°Miss Louise, this is my niece. She has been helping to keep the house in order this last month or so,¡± he said.

    Frinnef giggled at that. ¡°Oh, Uncle Arl, I wish I could do more¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough. We can discuss this later,¡± he said, an unusual sternness to his tone he didn¡¯t use with Sisi.

    If anything, Frinnef looked amused by his tone. ¡°Lunch will be dished now.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, taking off his hat and hanging it on a hook. Only, he paused there with his hand still holding it. I wondered why, but didn¡¯t get any longer to think on it, Sisi tugging me forwards again.

    The house¡¯s entrance was a hallway with a concrete floor, walls painted cream. Through the first door on the left was the dining room. ¡°We eat here,¡± she said, leading me inside.

    A wooden floor, but most of it was covered by a huge rug. It didn¡¯t have much of a pattern, just a burgundy sort of colour with brighter red for the edge¡ªthe sort of colour that hid stains quite well, I thought, especially mud. There was, of course, a table, six chairs arranged around it, and a cabinet against the far wall, maybe for the posh plates and dishes. Otherwise, looking around, it was quite plain¡­.

    No, I saw a painting on the floor, but it was turned around?

    ¡°This is where big cousin sits, and this is where I sit, and this is where papa sits,¡± Sisi said, pointing out the chairs as she walked me around the table. Coming to the next chair, though, she stopped, her pointing hand trembling, her other hand squeezing mine.

    ¡°Is this where mama sat?¡± I softly asked.

    She breathed in sharply, making me worry I¡¯d upset her for a moment, but then she seemed to calm down, her tremble gone. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Miss Hyraj and me won¡¯t sit here. It¡¯s a good thing there¡¯s two more chairs,¡± I said, trying to move on.

    It worked, her free hand making the ¡°yes¡± gesture.

    As if to make sure, she led me to my chair and made me sit, ¡°helping¡± to tuck me in. Looking over at the doorway, Mr Arl was quite amused by his daughter¡¯s antics. He looked better with a smile.

    ¡°Come on, papa!¡± she said, stomping over to take his hand and lead him to his seat. Hyraj chose the better part of valour and sat next to me while that happened; I made sure to gesture at the right seat, not sure if they had witnessed that little moment with Sisi.

    Frinnef then came through with a platter. She rested it on the table, showing off a selection of sandwiches. I noticed there were lal ones, not sure about the others, a little less generously filled compared to the office¡¯s breakfast / morning snack.

    That wasn¡¯t all, though, Frinnef popping back to the kitchen and bringing out a tray of soups, slow and careful steps and a pout until she lowered the tray down safely. Letting out a sigh, she took her seat. ¡°I apologise I cannot offer more.¡±

    ¡°Frinnef,¡± Mr Arl said quite sharply, only to sigh himself. ¡°Their thanks for the meal.¡±

    ¡°Their thanks for the meal,¡± Hyraj said, so I copied her too.

    Sisi was too busy staring at the lal sandwiches, only giving her thanks after a poke from her dad.

    It was a silent lunch, a nice enough lunch, the soup like one the cook made back at the dorms with an almost sweet taste, the not-lal sandwiches a sort of vegetable paste, maybe like tomato and cucumber?

    I was rather used to thinking about the food to pass the time while eating.

    Focusing, I noticed Sisi was chewing a lot. Mr Arl seemed to try and coax her to eat more, not saying anything, but moving her plate and bowl closer when she pushed them away. I hesitated over interfering again, but she was eating. That was the important part.

    Once it was all finished, Frinnef cleared the table and, not coming back, presumably was washing up. I sort of felt an impulse to go help, but that wasn¡¯t what Mr Arl was paying me for. He had an arrangement with his niece.

    Speaking of my job, Sisi looked a little sleepy. She just sat there with a blank expression. Five wasn¡¯t exactly too old for naps, but Mr Arl would probably appreciate it if she didn¡¯t stay up late.

    After a moment to think through what I wanted to say, I asked, ¡°Sisi? I want to do some knitting¡ªcan you show me a good place for that?¡±

    She stirred, a few blinks to turn her eyes back on, then almost fell off her seat she was in such a rush. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, slurring it a bit¡ª¡°prish¡±. ¡°This way.¡±

    Taking my hand, she led me out the room. I gave Mr Arl and Hyraj a little wave goodbye as I went.

    Finally, my job really began.

 Ch. 43 Learning

    Hyraj and Mr Arl went back to work, his niece Frinnef returned to her room; she said why, but I didn¡¯t recognise the word, so I just smiled. Sisi and I were left alone in the lounge.

    I had a lot to learn, I knew. About this world, about Sisi, about myself. Before, I had been ¡°mothering¡±. Those girls had gone to school to learn. What I gave them¡­ was safety. A small place in this world they could call home.

    Sisi had that¡ªher father. She felt very different to the girls I¡¯d looked after before. Not¡­ broken. I didn¡¯t know what it was like to lose a family, to be rejected from the people I called family, that kind of thing. But I saw what it did to a child. The only thing more horrible to see than a child with a nasty bruise on their face was that same child begging to go back to the person who had given it to them.

    Falling into dark thoughts, I took a deep breath and calmed myself. Sisi¡ªsitting next to me with a pout, fumbling around with the knitting needles¡ªhad no marks like that. I was sure that losing her mother hurt her greatly, but she still had a loving father. She didn¡¯t flinch from me, didn¡¯t pinch herself or otherwise have a habit of hurting herself, no patches of missing hair or scabs on her lips from biting them. Things I was used to looking out for when meeting new kids.

    She looked over¡ªat my lap first, then up at me. ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I was watching you. It¡¯s good of you to keep trying,¡± I said.

    That brought back her pout, her hands tightening their grip. ¡°I can¡¯t do it,¡± she mumbled.

    ¡°Can you do it tomorrow if you don¡¯t try some more today?¡± I asked, not quite how I wanted to phrase it, but hindered by my grasp of grammar.

    She looked away, maybe not the response she was hoping for. Well, her dad certainly doted on her, so no need for me to as well.

    Leaning down, I held back my smile and whispered, ¡°Or am I a bad teacher?¡±

    She froze up, then quickly shooed with her hand and sent the needle clattering to the floor.

    Oh, I just wanted to hug her and pat her head and¡­ but I didn¡¯t. ¡°Some things are hard when you¡¯re child, and some things are still hard when you¡¯re of age. But, if you learn how to try even when it¡¯s hard, then you can do more things if you¡¯re child or you¡¯re of age.¡±

    Reaching down, I picked up her needle and placed it on her lap.

    ¡°Do you have¡­ things to show me?¡± I asked, this time stumbling over not knowing the word for toy. It didn¡¯t come up in Hyraj¡¯s book.

    Still, Sisi understood¡ªor heard what she wanted to hear. ¡°Ah, yes! Come touch my room,¡± she said, putting her attempt-at-knitting on the couch and sliding off onto her feet. Couch¡ªit was a padded bench, no arms, low back, plenty of room underneath. More comfortable than just wood, but not as nice as the dining chairs.

    Her room was upstairs. While downstairs was wood with rugs for the room, concrete for the hallway, upstairs was kind of carpeted, floor covered in something like thick linen. Four rooms, but one of them¡­ a white cloth was tied around the doorknob. I guessed it was maybe the bedroom Mr Arl and his wife had shared.

    Not the time for ¡°gossip¡±, I looked away, following Sisi. Her room wasn¡¯t too big, a third of it taken up by her bed and chest of drawers. No wardrobe or toy box. The walls an off-white, floor similar, more of the linen-looking carpet. If everything had been a bright white, it might have felt like a hospital, but this sort of reminded me of like an old book, a faded drawing on unbleached paper. Soft, in a way. Gentle.

    While there wasn¡¯t a toy box, she had a toy drawer. And I meant toy. There was a doll, dress wheat-coloured with red spots faded to pink, face kind of glassy, but not in a glass way.

    ¡°Touch, this is Penny,¡± she said. Not that she literally said Penny, but the name of the coins I thought of as pennies. Wait, Hyraj had said ¡°Krinjor¡± was the name for female leaders of the country, so maybe ¡°Krin¡± was more like ¡°Princess¡±?

    It didn¡¯t really matter what I thought of it as, so I held out my hands, carefully accepting her precious toy. Another funny quirk of the language, showing something meant letting the other person hold it. From up close, I realised that, rather than glassy, the doll¡¯s face was waxy. Two black balls for eyes, smile carved in, no nose. Not perfectly even skin, maybe held too close on hot days.

    ¡°Hello, Krin,¡± I whispered, stroking the empty sleeve. No arm, just a wooden lump for a hand sewn on at the end; the same was true for the legs. It didn¡¯t have hair either, just a hood. ¡°I¡¯m Louise, but you can call me Loulou, okay?¡±

    Introduction over, I handed it back. Sisi took the doll just as gently as I had and, after giving it a cuddle, put it back in the drawer. I thought to tell her we could play with it, have a tea party or something like that. I thought to, but didn¡¯t speak the words, knowing the doll was special. A gift from her mum, maybe.

    That said, my mind was turning, the seeds of thoughts to think later. Right now, I focused on Sisi.

    ¡°Do you know, ah, I¡¯m not sure the name for it, so let I call it the shopping game,¡± I said, tripping over myself again as I spoke before making sure I knew what I wanted to say.

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    ¡°The shopping game?¡± she asked, head tilting to the side in the most adorable way.

    I smiled. ¡°We pretend we¡¯re going shopping and have to remember everything we need to buy, okay? It is easy if I show you,¡± I said and cleared my throat, readying myself to ¡°sing¡± the words. ¡°I¡¯m going shopping and I need to buy¡­ two shoes.¡± Gesturing at her, I said, ¡°So now you say the same I did, but buy another thing.¡±

    She looked at me for a moment, still confused, then tried. ¡°I¡¯m going shopping and I buy¡­ a hat?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going shopping and I need to buy¡­ two shoes, a hat, and bread.¡±

    A spark of understanding shone in her eye. Just that¡ª¡°I¡¯m going shopping and I buy¡­ two shoes, bread, no¡­ two hats, bread, and a sandwich.¡±

    Well, a good start.

    It was a long afternoon of those little games, but she liked them, so everything went fine. Though Frinnef walked past the door a few times, she didn¡¯t speak to us at all. Not sure if she even looked in the room or anything, maybe just going to the toilet or kitchen; her job here seemed to include cooking.

    Outside, the rain grew heavier at times, never quite turning to a storm, never quite stopping either. I worried about being stuck here, but I thankfully didn¡¯t have to deal with that by the time Mr Arl returned.

    The moment the knock sounded out, Sisi was scrambling to her feet, darted off in a blur that sent my heart racing. ¡°Walking, Sisi! Walking!¡± I shouted after her, forcing my legs to work faster than they had in months.

    Fortunately, she didn¡¯t fall down the stairs and neither did I.

    By the time I joined them, Sisi was babbling, hard for me to know what she was describing despite being here with her. If he couldn¡¯t understand, he didn¡¯t show it. A soft smile, softer than any he¡¯d shown me, and a gentleness to his touch that stroked her cheek. It reminded me of touching a flower, both so afraid to break it and yet unable to resist its beauty. Was that how a parent saw their child? Or, was that just how he saw his daughter?

    Whatever the case, there was no need for me to hang around, so I squatted down next to Sisi and touched her hand. The gesture quieted her as she looked at me. ¡°Can I speak to your papa for a moment?¡± I asked.

    She stared, a long, long second passing, then she moved her hand, gestured a ¡°yes¡±.

    I smiled at her, then stood up and met Mr Arl¡¯s eye. ¡°Would you like to speak with me or should I make leave?¡± I asked, proud of myself for remembering that posh phrase.

    He shooed with his free hand, the other still claimed by Sisi. ¡°Please, before it is late,¡± he said.

    So I squatted down again to say goodbye to Sisi, then put on my shoes and coat, heading out into the rain. A gentle rain, so loud with all the puddles. Wonderful. I never had the chance to enjoy the rain like this before, always rushing. Now, though, I could slowly walk, coat held tight, listening to the drops drum against me, splash. Still warm enough that getting a little wet wasn¡¯t unpleasant.

    It wasn¡¯t a long walk. Back at the dormitory, I dried off as best I could under the roof¡¯s overhang and scraped my shoes, then entered. The front door didn¡¯t have a lock, but each room did¡ªincluding the kitchen. Even if Hyraj was out, I didn¡¯t have to worry about being stuck in the rain.

    She wasn¡¯t out, though, opening the door almost as soon as I knocked.

    ¡°Welcome home,¡± she said. At least, that was how I thought of it, more literally ¡°pleased you came back¡± squashed together into a long word.

    So I said something that meant like, ¡°Pleased to be back.¡±

    She stepped back to her seat at the desk and sat down, but didn¡¯t go back to her open book, instead still looking at me. I wondered why until she asked, ¡°Was it well?¡±

    ¡°It was well,¡± I said, trying not to smile at the odd wording again.

    ¡°That¡¯s good, then,¡± she said, turning to the desk.

    I hesitated for a moment before deciding now wasn¡¯t the right time. It could wait for after we ate. So I put down my bag, took off my coat, and went to see if there was help needed in the kitchen. Anything I could learn about cooking, I wanted to.

    Dinner came, eating in silence, then I helped wash up too. Habit for both of us by now.

    Routine finished, I sat on the bed. Thoughts that had churned around my head all day finally had a chance to settle. I took a scrap piece of paper from my bag, charcoal pencil too, and started drawing.

    Once I was done, I waited for Hyraj to finish the chapter she was on. One minute, two¡ªI didn¡¯t mind waiting. No rush. That was probably the best thing about coming to this world, never really a rush. No homework, no kids to get ready for school or bed, just peace.

    She turned the page and I saw a chapter title, obvious even from where I sat. ¡°Hyraj?¡±

    A little longer, then she slipped in her bookmark and shut it. ¡°Yes?¡±

    I stood up and placed the paper on her desk, asking, ¡°Can you tell me what these are called?¡±

    She glanced over the page. ¡°That it is, I forget that, at the start, I even had to share the numbers,¡± she murmured. After a long breath, she went through the shapes one-by-one with me and, at my request, wrote their names too. While most words were spelled as they sounded, at least when she spoke them, I wanted to make sure. ¡°Anything else?¡± she asked.

    ¡°These things together, what do you call them? Like, one and two are numbers, and A and B are letters, circles and squares are¡­.¡±

    ¡°A name¡­ it is not, well, it is a term for educated people, but we call their study hiera, which includes things like graphs.¡± At least, she paused and drew what looked like a graph to me.

    Thinking hard, I fell into a pout. ¡°That it is¡­ can I ask, ¡®What hiera is this?¡¯ and it makes sense?¡±

    She laughed, a deep chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine. Before I could wonder why, she said, ¡°It makes sense to me, unlikely many others. To ask what hiera it is, no, you would simply ask what is it¡¯s lookalike. Most will answer with a hiera; if not, then prompting them with circle or square would have them answer with a hiera.¡±

    I almost nodded, instead making the tapping gesture with my thumb.

    A few more questions, she happily answered them, leaving me more sure about my plans for the next day. Just that, at the end of our ¡°lesson¡±, she asked, ¡°What brought you to ask these questions?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it is¡­ I would like to use them in playing with Sisi,¡± I said, maybe phrasing it a bit awkward.

    She didn¡¯t frown, but her lips seemed to thin. It was hard to tell. Always kept everything to herself. Staring at her lips, I almost jumped when they finally moved. ¡°Mr Arl, that is it, did you discuss tutoring her?¡±

    ¡°No? This is, this isn¡¯t tutoring. Before I¡­ came here, I was learning to¡­ look after little children,¡± I said, holding my hand down to emphasis the ¡°little¡± part. ¡°My home, we tutor little children about hiera and colours and numbers. They are¡­ more smart you think,¡± I said.

    At that, she gave a small smile. No, as slight as it looked, it was quite the big smile for her. ¡°I imagine so.¡±

    Our conversation had already been at the end before her question and, now that was over, there seemed nothing else to say. I put together my notes, falling back into churning thoughts.

    ¡°¡­ good mother.¡±

    Hearing her, I came out of my head. ¡°Pardon? I didn¡¯t hear,¡± I said.

    She shook her hand. ¡°It is nothing. Sleep well,¡± she said.

    ¡°And you,¡± I said, taking that as my cue to finish up. Tomorrow would be a lot of fun.

 Ch. 44 Comfort

    I couldn¡¯t remember ever looking forward to ¡°tomorrow¡±. All I had hoped for was the same, something I knew I could manage. I didn¡¯t want different. I hated surprises. I just wanted the same day, the same problems, the same fights, over and over, forever and ever.

    Not now.

    It wasn¡¯t this horrible rush of never having enough time for everything, knowing that something would go wrong, trying to guess what. The opposite, really. I had time to think about what I could do with Sisi that she¡¯d like.

    More than that, I had time for fun. With the shapes Hyraj taught me, I made up a matching game, a ¡°building¡± game¡ªputting together shapes to make things like houses and chairs. Stuff I could make with scrap paper. That, along with some more knitting practice and more of the shopping game and simple things like those, got me to the end of the week.

    The rain had grown heavier, but not quite a storm like before. Well, I would have called it a storm back in my world, not knowing how heavy rain could be. Hyraj¡¯s work didn¡¯t close, though, so I went to work, only a short walk anyway.

    Lighter rain carried on into the weekend, which was fine for me. I joined Hyraj on a few errands and spent the rest of the time pestering her for games people played here. For practising numbers, card games were good, but I didn¡¯t want to teach Sisi games no one else would know. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like I knew how poker worked either.

    So it fell to Hyraj to teach me. At least, teach me what she knew.

    ¡°I should confess, these suit games are what young men prefer, much less common in our circles,¡± she said, idly drawing out the ¡°cards¡± on loose paper I¡¯d carefully torn.

    ¡°Well, I can come up with some simple games if they aren¡¯t, um, good for Sisi,¡± I said.

    Suit games, I learned, were different to rank games. Those were the two groups of games played with cards. Suit games had different suits and some special cards, while rank games just had numbered cards. Both were usually about bluffing.

    Governor¡¯s Table, Carpenter¡¯s Double¡ªthey all had names like that which didn¡¯t make sense to either me or Hyraj. Still, of the ones she showed me, I liked Ladies¡¯ Lavender the most. It was a suit game, so good for helping Sisi learn that the same number could be a different suit, but the ¡°scoring¡± was simple: a bouquet was made up of different-suit cards that added up to thirteen, and the winner was the first to three bouquets. Hyraj even knew extra rules to make it harder since it was a game girls played. Well, maybe I¡¯d use those if Sisi found it too easy.

    So we passed the weekend, rain falling, paper crinkling, Hyraj¡¯s soothing voice explaining all sorts of things¡­ as she beat me at the dozen games she showed me. A fun time. She couldn¡¯t help but take the games seriously, a wrinkle on her brow, holding her ¡°cards¡± so carefully. Learning about a new side to her, I liked that too.

    The rain cleared up by Monday. Lots of puddles and mud, but my boots were holding up as well as you¡¯d expect for goddess-given boots. Outside wasn¡¯t the nicest place, though, humid with the ever-growing smell of ¡°rotten¡± mud. Thankfully, Mr Arl¡¯s house was well-built and kept out the worst of the outside. Doors and windows closed, it stayed cool, a lingering smell of flowers about the place; I didn¡¯t know where that came from. Maybe something Frinnef did.

    As for Sisi, she was happy to see me even before I showed her the ¡°games¡± I¡¯d made over the weekend.

    ¡°Ladies¡¯ Lavender?¡± she asked, eyes wide and mouth open.

    I carefully put down the flimsy cards. ¡°You did such good counting the other day, I thought you might like this one. For the real game, we¡ªthey have to¡­ add up to thirteen. But for practice, we can add up to ten.¡±

    Glancing over, I saw her staring at me with such a serious expression, her hand making the little gesture as if she was nodding along to everything I said. I held back my laughter, smiling softly.

    With so many new things to try, Monday was over before I knew it and, the next day, she wanted to do all her favourites again. By Wednesday, though, the novelty had worn off. Not just that, I noticed how she often went quiet and looked towards the door. At one point, Frinnef knocked something over that sounded like someone knocking and Sisi ran off to the door, ready to open it.

    Coming back from the door, she looked ready to cry. Honestly, this wasn¡¯t really my strong suit, used to comforting children whose parents weren¡¯t coming back. Not quite the same thing.

    ¡°Do you want a hug?¡± I softly asked.

    Already in front of me, she answered by just about throwing herself forwards, almost knocking me over. Managing to stay upright, I quickly noticed just how tightly she was hugging me. All of her little strength went into it.

    I held her loosely, rubbing a circle on her back. Didn¡¯t want to overstep and mother her, but comforting her was important, letting her have what she needed right now. After half a minute, her squeeze went slack and, soon after, she let go.

    ¡°Should we¡­ draw a picture for papa?¡± I said.

    Her head still hanging down, she made a little ¡°yes¡± gesture.

    Though she didn¡¯t really perk up, her melancholy melted away by the time her dad did get back, only then a smile coming to her as she ran to the door again. As quiet as she¡¯d been, I had time to think of something and, borrowing him for a moment, I checked if my plan would be okay.

    ¡°Of course. I shall let my niece know,¡± he said, pausing there as a rumble of thunder rang out. Gesturing at the door, he said, ¡°Please, before it begins to pour.¡±

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    I smiled and dutifully set off, saying a brief goodbye. No need to linger.

    Outside, it was only a drizzle, but there was the promise of more, sky black as night, distant flashes, long rumbles rattling my bones. My heart pounded, reminding me I shouldn¡¯t be out in this weather.

    Still, running wasn¡¯t safe, stones slick from the unending rain. So I could only walk at the kind of brisk pace Hyraj liked, just enough to make my legs burn. An unhurried hurry. It was funny, such a short walk, but a spike of fear came with every rumble, followed by thoughts of Hyraj. It was¡­ thinking about the peaceful time we spent together calmed me.

    But I soon remembered the promise I¡¯d made.

    Hands clenched, I rushed a little more, quickly wiped my feet for what good it did. Inside, I strode over to our room, only to hesitate, overwhelmed by feelings I couldn¡¯t put to words. Like I was afraid she would be upset with me for not being here sooner.

    I knew how silly that was, though, so took a deep breath and knocked. From inside the room, I heard the scrape of a chair moving, two footsteps, then the latch clicked and door opened ajar.

    ¡°Pleased to be back,¡± I whispered.

    ¡°Pleased you came back,¡± she whispered, opening the door all the way.

    She sat back down while I settled in, my very damp coat hung up and brushed with a towel and shoes and socks left in the corner. Putting on my slippers, I couldn¡¯t help but smile, all these little things that kept turning up for me. It was no wonder I felt so comforted when I was with her. Never knew what it felt like to be looked after, to be doted on, to have someone think about me.

    Looking over at her, my smile melted away. How still she was. I knew that, no matter how long I waited, she wouldn¡¯t turn the page of the book she was reading. Not with the thunder rumbling outside.

    Well, I did know what it was like to look after someone and dote on them, so this wasn¡¯t a problem.

    The rain fell and thunder rumbled and the night passed, giving way to morning. While the rain was heavier, it wasn¡¯t quite a storm, so Hyraj went to work and so did I, hurrying up the road to Mr Arl¡¯s house.

    Sisi was fine for the morning, but I noticed her start to quiet down as we neared midday. Smiling, I put my plan into motion, tugging her to the kitchen.

    When it came to Frinnef, I still didn¡¯t know quite what to think. She seemed nice enough and hadn¡¯t done anything mean to Sisi, but I was sensitive to this sort of thing, knew she didn¡¯t particularly like kids. It was small things, like the look Frinnef gave Sisi when she didn¡¯t finish a meal, the forced smile when Sisi talked to her, how she usually spoke to me or Mr Arl about Sisi rather than to Sisi.

    That was maybe one reason why she wasn¡¯t left to look after Sisi.

    For now, though, Frinnef played her part in the plan. ¡°Oh, Sisi, Uncle Arl told me he really wanted a lal sandwich for lunch, but they only have them for breakfast at work. Can you help me make one for him and take it to him? He¡¯d be so happy,¡± she said.

    Didn¡¯t Sisi just light up at that. ¡°Yes!¡± she squealed, both hands flapping in what was maybe supposed to be a ¡°yes¡± gesture or maybe just childish joy. Either way, it was adorable.

    Despite what Frinnef had said, it was me helping Sisi with the sandwich, which was quite the test, lal¡¯s pungent smell not something I was used to yet. Some kind of fermented vegetable? At the least, it spread easily. We also only needed to make a couple¡ªhe would still have a normal lunch at work.

    Once we were done, we dressed up to go out, making sure Sisi was wrapped up tight. Cared more about keeping her dry than the sandwiches, which were just in a cloth in a basket.

    The rain splatted against the door, blown by a temperamental wind. Crouching down, I asked Sisi, ¡°Ready?¡±

    She grinned. ¡°Ready!¡±

    I smiled back and stood up, one hand holding hers and the other on the door¡¯s latch. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    We stepped out quickly, shutting the door behind, already the weather pelting us with rain drops, ticklish through our clothes. Running wasn¡¯t safe, but I could walk at a brisk pace and keep her steady as she jogged along. Splashing through puddles, blown this way and that, we made the short journey to the office.

    Coming through the gate, I glanced up¡ªhard to keep my head up with the wind and rain¡ªand spotted someone by the front door. Someone familiar. With a last burst, I tugged Sisi up to the covered entrance, not that it offered much cover with all this wind. Still, it was good enough.

    ¡°Papa!¡±

    With that shout, Sisi let go of my hand and threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around her dad. He staggered back, but barely. Not as much as I did when she threw herself at me.

    Taking a step back, she held up the basket. ¡°Here, papa, we made lal sanniches for you!¡±

    Sanniches¡ªI wasn¡¯t sure if that was slang or her misspeaking, but it sounded cute.

    It was funny. Mr Arl looked like any other middle-aged man I¡¯d seen before, really. A face that wasn¡¯t young any more, the bit of hair not covered by his hat showing some grey, but Sisi looked up at him like he was the most amazing person in the world, and it was impossible for some of that to not rub off on me.

    The whole way back, she was skipping. Even once we were inside, she couldn¡¯t sit still, so I ended up teaching her some ¡°yoga¡±. Physical enough to burn off some of her energy without risking a broken window.

    Anyway, the important thing was that she was happy. I didn¡¯t want to make a habit of indulging her like today, but, while she was still adjusting, a little wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    Out of the two of us, I was the one getting distracted by the end of the day. The rain had been heavy earlier, now growing to be a storm, drumming loudly. Loud enough to keep my thoughts away if I stopped for a moment, mingling with my growing anxiety.

    When a knock on the door rang out, I might have even been happier than Sisi¡ªbut I didn¡¯t run over like she did.

    ¡°Okay, okay, let me speak with Miss Louise fastly,¡± Mr Arl said, patting Sisi¡¯s head.

    She didn¡¯t like that, pulling away; I wondered if that was why he did it. Couldn¡¯t wonder for long, though, his tired gaze setting sights on me. I smiled. ¡°She has¡ª¡±

    He shooed his hand. ¡°That is it, the rain is so heavy, I cannot in kind thought have Miss Louise walk home in it. Truth be said, Sisi sleeps in my room most nights anyway, and my niece is here too¡ªwould Miss Louise stay? At least until the morning, that the worst of the storm passes.¡±

    I froze up. It wasn¡¯t an unreasonable thing of him to say, kind to offer¡­ but¡­ my heart hurt. It pounded, yet felt constrained. A sharp reminder that I had been anxious all this time and it wasn¡¯t about when Mr Arl would come back. Not exactly, at least.

    The words eventually came to me, easing my aching heart¡ªjust a little. ¡°I should return home,¡± I said.

    ¡°Really, I¡ª¡± he began to say, only to stop at my little shooing gesture.

    ¡°It is a kind¡­ offer, but I have something I must do,¡± I said, almost whispering as I remembered why I so desperately needed to go back.

    He sighed and stepped aside. ¡°Be quick, then, this storm shan¡¯t give a kinder offer.¡±

    I didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Shoes, coat, and I was out the door with a goodbye. He hadn¡¯t lied about the storm, rain almost painful through my layers, teetering as the wind blew me, all I could do to scrunch up small, try to keep the rain and wind off my skin. I hurried along the path to the gate, slipping through it onto the road and¡ª

    Someone there, I recognised their long coat, boots sticking out. Slowly, not really believing it, I raised my gaze until I found their¡¯s looking at me. ¡°Hyraj,¡± I whispered, word lost to the wind.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said, her words reaching me through the storm.

    She turned and went to walk, but I strode forward and pinched at her sleeve. Glancing back at me, her face asked a question, and I answered by holding out my hand. As if that was a cue, lightning flashed nearby, thunder rumbled. ¡°I promised,¡± I said.

    A second, then she reached out and held my hand, holding it so very tight. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

 Ch. 45 Calm before the storm

    Another storm came, another storm left. As I had grown used to the season, I was used to this routine, comfortable with it. It wasn¡¯t like I wasn¡¯t used to sharing a room, wasn¡¯t like I wasn¡¯t used to looking after kids. Different, but similar, familiar. The same, but better. Easier and simpler.

    A quiet weekend, a quiet week. Helped the cook with breakfasts and dinners, slowly learning how she cooked, trusted with more important tasks than just scrubbing and peeling vegetables. She even helped me with my knitting and taught me some basic sewing on the weekend. Played with Sisi, teaching her numbers and shapes, working on her memory, developing motor skills¡ªfinally getting to use what I¡¯d been studying before the accident.

    Over lunches with Frinnef, she told me she was studying for maybe some kind of government job? Mr Arl¡¯s family seemed quite small and well-educated. I didn¡¯t want to come off like I was gossiping, so I didn¡¯t pry, mostly just listened to her complain about her mum¡¯s expectations for her. ¡°A good job leads to a good marriage partner, and a good partner leads to a good family,¡± she had said, quoting her mum with an accent like Mr Arl¡¯s.

    Mr Arl¡­ oh, he was so sweet. Every time he paid me, he offered to walk me home to make sure nothing happened. The times I saw him with Sisi¡­. I couldn¡¯t imagine what it was like to lose a partner, but he loved Sisi so much, there was no telling how much he still hurt when she was around.

    There were moments, though, when his wife¡¯s name slipped out his mouth. ¡°El¡ª¡± and he would stop himself, whatever words he had planned replaced by a long second of silence, like the light left his eyes.

    Rare moments, but I couldn¡¯t forget them. I wondered if I would ever love someone so much that losing them would leave me like him. Love¡­ had never felt familiar. At the orphanage, I felt needed, but loved? And I¡¯d heard and read about crushes and love-at-first-sight, but never felt that way. Boys were just kinda silly and, like, carefree, no way I could see them as anything but big kids. Dealing with them felt more like a chore than anything.

    I carried those thoughts with me on the way to work on ¡°Thursday¡±. Dark clouds in the sky, but no rain yet, maybe a day or two until it fell again? The heat had really set in, which I¡¯d learned was the real sign of rain. It would get really hot and muggy, then the cool wind would come in and the rain would fall, half-reminding me of old geography lessons. Anti-cyclones, or just cold air pushing hot air up and cooling it down?

    Whatever. I knew I didn¡¯t have to worry about a storm until a cool wind blew.

    I settled into a normal enough day. For the morning, Sisi and I worked on a peg doll. My sewing was terrible, but I could close up a bit of fabric stuffed with ¡°wool¡±, then we added pegs to it for arms and legs, sewing on another blob for the head. It looked horrific, but she liked it and that was all that mattered. My skills not good enough to sew a neat mouth or eyes, we made do with drawing them on in charcoal.

    That took up our morning. After lunch, we sat down with our knitting needles. I¡¯d tried a few times to get her interested in it and failed. No point in forcing her to do it if she didn¡¯t want to, but it seemed like a good hobby in this world. Today, I had a good hook, so I hooked her.

    ¡°Should we knit some clothes for Lucy?¡± She called the doll Lou-Si¡ªabsolutely melting my heart¡ªbut it sounded like Lucy to me.

    Anyway, just like that, Sisi wanted to try knitting again.

    I was better than when she last tried and so I could teach her better. She was more comfortable with me too, so she sat on my lap, making it easier for me to guide her needles. Loop after loop, joining them together. When I knitted on my own, I often thought about magic, how Hyraj had said that there was a more advanced kind of magic that ¡°knitted¡± the threads of magic together.

    For now, I focused on Sisi. Helping a child discover their talents was a magic all of its own. Her awkward and fumbling movements becoming that much calmer, the needles gradually making a rhythmic clicking sound, falling into the trance.

    Outside, a wind started to blow. That added to the atmosphere and another old memory came to me. Hyraj telling me that their word for holiday was literally ¡°knitday¡± because, on these stormy days, people would stay at home and knit. Well, the women would¡ªno clue what the men did. Hadn¡¯t seen any of them knit.

    I only knew how to knit blankets (or scarves or something flat and rectangular), so that was what we knitted. Slow going as it was, with thick yarn and loose loops, we managed to make a big enough sheet in a couple of hours, then I sewed two sides of it together to make a ¡°dress¡±, adding some yarn straps so it wouldn¡¯t slip down. It didn¡¯t look great and would be quite provocative if worn by a person, but Sisi loved it. That was all that mattered.

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    ¡°So pretty,¡± she whispered, holding up Lucy and staring into the charcoal-splodge eyes. I smiled to myself.

    For a while, I left her to play, Lucy being shown around the house. It seemed like good play to me, practice for when she was older and hosting people. Copying the sorts of things her dad said. It was easy to forget just how much children absorbed, repeating something you said off-hand years ago like it had happened yesterday.

    Once Lucy had been to every room, I moved on to the next ¡°lesson¡±. ¡°Should we braid some hair for Lucy?¡± I asked, holding spare yarn.

    Sisi frowned, pout and all. ¡°Okay,¡± she said, idly tapping her thumb and finger together on her spare hand.

    Little by little, we braided the yarn and I tied up the ends with thread, then sewed it onto the doll¡¯s head. I couldn¡¯t tell if it looked any better for it, but at least the braids were neat. Something I could actually teach her to do well.

    Thinking it more good play for this world, I guided her into having a tea party with Lucy. Well, not that she needed much guiding: ¡°Would Lucy like some tea?¡±

    And Sisi scurried off, saying, ¡°Yeah!¡± leaving me to follow her up to her room. By the time I arrived, she had sat Lucy on the floor and was now putting out some scrap pieces of paper we¡¯d drawn on. One of her scribbles was, notably, a lal sandwich. Seemed to be a family favourite for her and her dad.

    It was funny, in a way. I was used to the orphanage where there was always someone to play with, so those kids didn¡¯t know how to play alone. Sisi, even without me pushing her, could play for ages by herself.

    Smiling, I watched her serve Lucy food, chatting away, a whole conversation going on between her and the doll. I wondered if her mum had often had guests over, or maybe copying Frinnef?

    ¡°Look at your hair, it¡¯s so bad, you should just cut it all off. It¡¯s not smooth like papa¡¯s hair at all!¡±

    My blood ran cold, smile frozen onto my lips as I was yanked out of my thoughts to focus on her words. I, well, kids¡­ played through their problems. She wouldn¡¯t be saying something like that unless¡­ someone had said it to her before. Mr Arl wouldn¡¯t. Frinnef, as much as she didn¡¯t seem to like kids, wouldn¡¯t¡­.

    I mean, I already knew it was the old nanny. No point thinking about it.

    ¡°Really? I like her hair,¡± I said, reaching over to stroke Lucy¡¯s braids.

    Sisi pouted. ¡°You do?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    She narrowed her eyes, giving me a long look before going back to her tea party. ¡°Well, it¡¯s okay, so are you gonna drink the tea?¡±

    I was left in a bit of a state the rest of the time until Mr Arl came home. Even then, I was sort of on automatic, listing off what we¡¯d done today while Sisi clutched his hand, his other hand ¡°nodding¡± along, before getting to a goodbye. ¡°Then, I shall make leave?¡±

    ¡°One thing,¡± he said, stopping me before I opened the door. ¡°That is it, an old acquaintance is in town. He is, well, not someone I should bring here. A good heart, but not someone who can watch his mouth,¡± he said, subtly gesturing at Sisi.

    I resisted the urge to nod, instead gesturing with my hand. ¡°Would Mr Arl like me to watch her?¡±

    ¡°Only if it doesn¡¯t burden Miss Louise¡ªthere is my niece, after all,¡± he said.

    I smiled. ¡°Really, no burden at all.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± he said, tapping his hand against his leg. A nervous tic sort of thing? I hadn¡¯t seen him do it before, had noticed some others¡­. ¡°He is staying at the inn, so when they can come over in the morning will do fine.¡±

    As always, him using ¡°they¡± to mean me confused me for a second, but I quickly agreed and headed off.

    Walking back, I had a spring in my step. Honestly, I didn¡¯t know if Mr Arl paid me well, but he had a good job and Hyraj hadn¡¯t said he was taking advantage of me. Had a bit of a clue from how much our meals cost. So another few hours of work, well, that was a bit more money I could put towards repaying Hyraj. I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d accept it if I just gave it to her, but a present?

    Lost in those thoughts that pushed away the unpleasantness of Sisi¡¯s last nanny, I arrived at the room and knocked, waiting for Hyraj to open the door.

    ¡°Pleased you came back,¡± she said. Soft. Tired after a hard week of work, maybe?

    ¡°Pleased to be back.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t there for long, going to help with dinner once I put down my things and popped to the toilet. And of course, we still didn¡¯t talk over dinner, so it was like an hour after I came back that I finally talked with her.

    While I didn¡¯t want to gossip about Mr Arl¡¯s family, especially since Hyraj worked with him, I wanted Hyraj to know I wasn¡¯t useless. Told her how we made a doll and clothes today, practising my sewing.

    She softly smiled. ¡°You¡¯re starting to sound like a good wife,¡± she said.

    I heard that and laughed, thinking it a joke¡ªand a funny one at that. ¡°Thank you? Oh, and Mr Arl is meeting a friend tomorrow, so he asked me to watch Sisi for the morning.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, his friend,¡± Hyraj mumbled.

    ¡°You meet him?¡± I asked.

    She sort of waved me off, then touched her nose, an unusual hesitation¡­. ¡°He looks quite well-to-do. An older gentleman, perhaps an old friend of his father¡¯s or a mentor. From the capital or at least resided there long enough to catch the accent.¡±

    Not sure what to say to that, I just said, ¡°That is it.¡±

    With a sigh, she adjusted her posture like she was finished talking, once again facing her book. ¡°He is a good man. Mr Arl, that is.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure why she said that now, but I didn¡¯t disagree, how much he cared for Sisi endearing to me. ¡°He is.¡±

    Nothing more was said.

 Ch. 46 To be a mother

    The next morning, I tried to get ready as quietly as I could, leaving Hyraj to sleep in¡­ only to eventually look over and see her staring at me, still lying in bed.

    ¡°Did I wake you?¡± I asked with a sheepish smile.

    ¡°Is it that? There¡¯s no helping it,¡± she said, her morning voice a throaty murmur. Not often I heard her speak before even a drink of water. As if conscious of that, she sat up, thin blanket sliding off, and took her cup, summoning water to fill it. No reason to look away, I watched her as she did.

    Her nightwear wasn¡¯t much different to mine, but certainly made of a nicer fabric, something she¡¯d brought with her from home. Dull, coarse, yet cool to the touch like silk, not exactly like anything I knew. I thought about asking her what it was just about every day, but didn¡¯t want to pester her. Felt like it might bring up unpleasant memories of her home.

    After all, there was a reason she¡¯d left.

    Finished with her drink, she stood up, collected some clothes to change into, put on a cloak, and left. Even after all this time, she was too shy to change with me in the room. So cute. Out of respect for her, I took this time to also change. No need to make her feel uncomfortable.

    While Mr Arl had sort of said I didn¡¯t have to rush over, there wasn¡¯t a reason for me to hang around the dorms either. So, after helping make and then eating breakfast, I headed out. The weather still couldn¡¯t decide on what it wanted to do, wind blowing and the odd drop of rain hitting my face. If I was lucky, I thought, Mr Arl would be back before it started pouring, but the storm probably wouldn¡¯t start until tomorrow anyway.

    Arriving at his house, I knocked and, almost instantly, heard quick, light footsteps drumming along the hallway.

    A light thump of an excited child not quite able to stop herself in time, then: ¡°Is it Loulou?¡± Sisi asked.

    ¡°It is Loulou,¡± I replied, smile so wide my cheeks hurt.

    The door opened with a click and a small hand darted out, grabbing mine and tugging me inside. ¡°Papa said you aren¡¯t gonna be here all day, so we haf to play quick,¡± she said, still pulling me.

    Softly laughing, I had to pull back. ¡°A moment, please,¡± I said, awkwardly slipping off my coat. She caught on and let go of me while I finished settling in.

    When I looked up, I saw Mr Arl in the dining room¡¯s doorway. He had a gentle smile and didn¡¯t look quite so tired as usual. Still tired, mind you, but not as tired. I barely saw him in the mornings since he¡¯d go out as soon as I arrived, only ever spoke after work.

    Not that we had time to talk now¡ªjust a quick good morning while Sisi dragged me to the lounge, her peg doll waiting.

    Nothing else was any different after that. For a while, Sisi kept playing by herself, my role to ¡°nod¡± along and offer little questions now and then. ¡°What is Lucy eating?¡±

    Sisi pouted as she always did when thinking and eventually said, ¡°Lal sannich.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, tapping my thumb and finger together.

    Looking down again, she carried on shuffling and bouncing Lucy, mumbling both sides of the imaginary conversation to herself, often stopping to brush aside her fringe. While not matted, her hair wasn¡¯t in great shape. At a guess, her dad maybe got a brush through it once a week¡ªprobably with a lot of tears.

    I still didn¡¯t know exactly what my job was here. Or rather, what my place was? He¡¯d always said it like I was just a babysitter, here to make sure she didn¡¯t get into trouble and play with her if she was bored. We hadn¡¯t really talked about it, but he seemed happy she was learning some things.

    Family¡­ what did it mean to be a family, to be part of a family? What place did I have here in their family? Was I outside of it, only allowed to look in, or did I have a place here to shape Sisi? Did he trust me that much? Did Sisi?

    Though I was deep in thought, I still followed Sisi¡¯s every word, watched her as she played. My superpower. So I watched as she picked at Lucy¡¯s braid, remembering yesterday.

    It wasn¡¯t always about me.

    I reached up and loosened my hat, pulling out the hair pin as I did, hair falling down. ¡°Oh dear, my hair came loose,¡± I said, putting on a dramatic tone that worked so well on young kids. ¡°Does Sisi have a brush I borrow?¡±

    She glanced up, paused for a long second, then scurried off, both hands making the ¡°yes¡± gesture. I swallowed the laugh that bubbled up and let out a sigh. Not a long journey, she soon returned, her quick footsteps pattering down the stairs and back into the lounge.

    ¡°My thanks,¡± I said, trying to ingrain the fancier way of saying it into her.

    She held out the brush for me and I took it, looking it over. A strange brush. Hyraj¡¯s was simple, a block of wood with, like, metal nails hammered in, more like a comb. Sisi¡¯s had a smooth, metal base that fit the hand rather well, the short bristles very stiff. Prickly, too.

    I brushed a few times myself, making sure there were no new knots, then coaxed Sisi to take over. Oh, she was so hesitant, barely touching my hair at first, but slowly got into it. I was far from an expert on these kinds of things, but I believed there was something in our genes that made us love brushing each other¡¯s hair. Except¡­ this was a different world, so did we even share any genes?

    Putting aside my pointless thoughts, I let her brush some more before moving on to braiding my hair. While she still lacked the co-ordination for it, it wasn¡¯t like anyone but Hyraj would be seeing my hair any time soon, hat kept on my lap, ready to be put on at a moment¡¯s notice.

    ¡°That is it, over and under,¡± I softly said, giving her hands the smallest guidance.

    ¡°Mm,¡± she hummed, mouth in a deep pout, forehead wrinkled, little hands fumbling with the bundles of hair.

    Though my hair wasn¡¯t the longest, it took her a while to finish. A spare ribbon in my bag, I tied the braid with her, helping those little hands make the bow and everything. ¡°Oh, thank you, this looks lovely,¡± I said, again really putting it on, as I made it back into a bun, hat going over it.

    She giggled, cheeks puffed up with her proud smile.

    A smile that froze when I then asked, ¡°Should we braid your hair now?¡±

    She seemed to shrink before my eyes, hunching her shoulders, lowering her head, arms crossed. A familiar sight that hit me all the harder for how unfamiliar she otherwise was. Like, I understood why the kids at the orphanage would act like this, but not Sisi. She had a dad who loved her, a home where she was safe. Such a bubbly child.

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    The thing about scars, though, was that they never faded away entirely. Definitely not so soon.

    ¡°Does the brush hurt?¡± I asked, how better to phrase it slipping my mind right now.

    Her hand softly gestured ¡°yes¡±.

    I smiled, squatted down to her height¡ªlower to look into her eyes. ¡°In my old home, I brushed lots and lots of hair, so I¡¯m very good¡­. Does papa brush your hair?¡±

    Again, she gestured ¡°yes¡±.

    ¡°Should I teach papa how to brush it gentle?¡±

    One second, two¡ªshe gestured ¡°yes¡±.

    ¡°That is it, then I¡¯m going to brush your hair, okay?¡± I asked, bringing the brush closer to her.

    She almost flinched, tensing up, but her hand once again made that little gesture. Only then did I start.

    ¡°You¡¯re very brave,¡± I whispered, picking up a little of the end of her hair. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you.¡±

    Her eyes were clenched shut, anticipating the pain. But it didn¡¯t come. I¡¯d brushed out plenty of neglected hair before, held it tightly so it didn¡¯t pull, working on just a little bunch of hair, a little at a time.

    It really brought me back to my bittersweet life in my old world.

    After a minute or so, she began to soften, her face not so scrunched up and the rest of her not so tense. Eventually, she opened an eye and I could imagine she was thinking something like I hadn¡¯t even been brushing her hair. But I had, showed her, running the brush freely through the brushed part.

    ¡°What does¡­ proud mean?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t expected that question and, even if I had, it wouldn¡¯t have helped me come up with a good answer. Mulling it over, I went with something simple that felt right to me. ¡°It means I¡¯m happy you did something good, and you should feel happy because you did something good.¡±

    ¡°This is¡­ good?¡± she asked, her face scrunched up in confusion this time. A much more adorable look than before.

    ¡°It is good to brush our hair, and it is good you let me brush it even though you are scared,¡± I said, sort of meandering as I still struggled to explain this concept.

    Though I said that, her fear seemed to have evaporated, now fascinated by this new word she¡¯d learned. She pestered me with question after question, asking if this or that was something to be proud of, and I struggled with most of them, her imagination quite detailed for her age. Well, it kept her distracted from the brushing and sitting mostly still.

    Once her hair was pretty much free of knots, I had her take over. Taught her. After all, the best way to not get painful knots was to brush them out before they got bad.

    ¡°Every morning, okay?¡± I said.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, her free hand happily clapping, had been for a while. Like a dog wagging her tail.

    Braiding your own hair was a harder thing to learn than brushing, but I helped her with it, letting her practise while making sure it looked nice. Slow and steady, even redoing parts that didn¡¯t work out well. The more practice, the better.

    I hadn¡¯t been keeping track of time, but I guessed a couple hours had passed since I arrived, no clue how long before Mr Arl came back. If it was an old friend, it made sense to at least have lunch together?

    My thoughts drifting, Sisi went back to playing with her peg doll. Lucy was lucky enough to be treated to a ¡°makeover¡±, Sisi undoing the ribbon and pretending to brush its hair, then awkwardly braiding it.

    In the end, my thoughts turned out to be wrong and, while Frinnef was preparing lunch, a knock rang out on the door. Of course, Sisi was on her feet and running off the next second. Softly smiling, I followed after, just in time to hear her open the door.

    Mr Arl was there alone. He hadn¡¯t brought his friend back for lunch, then. A tired smile on his face. I wondered if it was bad news, not sure why else a couple hours of catching up would wear him out.

    In the midst of her chatter, Sisi said, ¡°Papa, look!¡± and lifted her hat.

    He dutifully looked at first, then I saw him freeze; I imagined that some nasty thoughts probably came up. Echoes.

    But Sisi was too excited to notice and kept talking. ¡°Loulou teached me how to brush so it¡¯s not sore, and how to braid it myself, and papa, I have to brush every morning so it doesn¡¯t get sore, so I¡¯ll teached you tomorrow, okay?¡±

    Little by little, he melted, settling into a warm smile as he patted her head¡ªshe didn¡¯t flinch away this time. ¡°Okay, my sweet.¡±

    Looking up at me, he still had that smile, but¡­ there was more to it that I couldn¡¯t tell. Like he was looking at me the same way he looked at Sisi.

    ¡°Frinnef, if Sisi could help for a while?¡± he called out.

    Appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, Frinnef gestured ¡°yes¡± with her hand. ¡°Sure? Come on, Sisi.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Kay,¡± Sisi said, pattering down the hall, glancing back every other step with a broad smile.

    Mr Arl stood there until she disappeared into the kitchen, then sighed. For the first time in a while, he went to take his hat off, only to stop himself at the last moment, settling it back on neatly. ¡°Shall we?¡± he said, gesturing at the dining room.

    I smiled in reply and led the way, being the closer one. Out of habit, I sat at the seat I did for meals; maybe for the same reason, he sat in his seat.

    ¡°That is it¡­ my friend, he¡ªMiss Louise isn¡¯t too familiar with this country, isn¡¯t it?¡± he said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    Mr Arl tapped the table. ¡°It is not the capital city, but he works in a large city by the sea. They, that is, the company he runs, requires someone with¡ªI have been offered a more than reasonable job.¡±

    ¡°Congratulations?¡± I said, unsure what tone to use with how he wasn¡¯t exactly acting happy about it.

    He gave a half-hearted smile. ¡°My thanks. It is¡­ I would begin to move once the storms pass. There is much to do with selling the house and such, so not an immediate change¡­.¡±

    I wondered if that was it. This house, he¡¯d bought it with his wife? All those rooms upstairs, maybe they planned to give it to Sisi one day and hoped she would have a big family. It couldn¡¯t be easy to leave the place they had called home. I didn¡¯t know that feeling, but I could imagine it.

    ¡°Mr Arl?¡±

    He brought up his hand, balled in a fist, and brushed his nose before putting it back down. ¡°I spoke of other things with my friend too. He, I¡­. Truth be told, what I fear most about this job is taking Sisi away from you,¡± he said, falling to a whisper by the end. ¡°She has been so happy. I¡­ understand now that Sisi needs a mother.¡±

    It felt like I should know what he was thinking, but it wasn¡¯t quite falling into place, something not clicking. Stuck on that, I didn¡¯t answer before he spoke again.

    ¡°I cannot ask a maiden to travel so far for my selfishness, and it would be an immense selfishness to ask you to wed for my child. However, for my child, I would do any shameful act. I cannot promise you love, but anything else you desire, it shall be yours.¡±

    My brain actually broke, didn¡¯t dare believe what I thought he was asking. ¡°That is it¡­ w-what are you said?¡± I asked, thankful I could even put that much together.

    He looked away, pinching his ear. ¡°That is it, I am asking to make a wife of you,¡± he whispered. ¡°Shameful as it is for me to ask one so much younger than myself, someone I barely know, someone I have no such feelings for, I must ask. Sisi¡­ needs a mother more than I need my dignity.¡±

    I stared at him for a moment, then took in a deep breath, and let out a laugh. A soft laugh, little more than a breath, but it carried with it all the confusion I had been feeling, leaving me calm.

    ¡°Hy¡ªMiss Hyraj told them I am a no-parents?¡± I asked, remembering my manners.

    The rest of him didn¡¯t move, but his hand gestured ¡°yes¡±.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know if my mother ever held me. If she ever kissed my cheek. If she ever told me she loved me. However, Sisi does. She has a mother and she will always if you tell her. She will remember her mother¡¯s warm, her mother¡¯s love. I know¡­ because I have saw children who lost it. They never forget what they lost. Sisi, if you tell her, she won¡¯t lose it. She will remember it.¡±

    Pausing there, I took a breath. Didn¡¯t want to let the emotions overwhelm me.

    ¡°Know how¡­ I cannot be her mother. If we¡­ wed, then I will be her second-mother¡±¡ªthe literal way they said step-mother and there could also be third-mother and so on¡ª¡°and I wouldn¡¯t not want to be her first-mother.¡±

    I stopped there, anything else I thought to say just going around in circles.

    He sat in silence. Didn¡¯t move, like he didn¡¯t even blink. I worried for a moment that I might have broken him. Then he spoke, just one word that I translated as two: ¡°Of course.¡±

    Taking a mental step back, I realised I hadn¡¯t actually answered his literal proposal. ¡°I don¡¯t not want to wed,¡± I said, using the double-negative to emphasise it. ¡°Sisi has a lot of love, and Mr Arl does too. I am not special. There will be someone like me there, I know.¡±

    At last, he showed some emotion, his mouth curling into a wry smile. ¡°I truly doubt there will be anyone quite like Miss Louise, but I understand. Please, forget about my lapse in judgement,¡± he said.

    I let out another light breath of laughter. Silence settling, my thoughts churned, then hit upon something. ¡°Ah, for brushing her hair when it is knots, you hold it tight at the top, and brush the end first, then a little higher, then a little higher,¡± I said, miming the actions as I did.

    He watched me with a straight face, only to burst into laughter the moment I finished, covering his mouth with a fist. ¡°Truly, I cannot imagine meeting someone quite like Miss Louise.¡±

    I decided to take that as a compliment.

 Ch. 47 Preference

    After finishing the talk with Mr Arl, I made my way back in the start of a storm. There was now a chill in the air, dark clouds overhead, odd drops spitting down, and a wind that could hold me up if I leant into it. Needless to say, I didn¡¯t dawdle.

    Back at the dorms, I took a moment to just take a breath, something about this weather suffocating, then another moment to brush off as much water as I could. Finally, I walked to our room.

    My brain churned, putting together the conversation with Mr Arl into something I could tell Hyraj, amused as I imagined her reaction, only to then freeze, realising I probably shouldn¡¯t tell her everything. He hadn¡¯t told me to keep any of it secret, but it might not be good if the tax office (or whatever it is) knew he was going to quit soon. Better still if Hyraj could honestly say she didn¡¯t know if asked.

    Ugh, I hated office politics¡­ despite never working a day in my life in one.

    I didn¡¯t want to lie either, though. Sighing, I rubbed my face, all of a sudden rather tired. Well, if I couldn¡¯t tell her and couldn¡¯t lie, I would just have to tell her I couldn¡¯t tell her, confident she would understand. It wasn¡¯t like she made a habit of prying into my life.

    My mind made up, I knocked on the door.

    One second, two, then the scrape of her chair. Three, four, five¡ªthe lock clicked, door opening with a creak. Her face appeared in the opening, looking the same as always, not the same as always. Tired, but not the kind of tired she should have at this time on the weekend when she didn¡¯t go out anywhere.

    Everything I¡¯d been worrying about a minute ago was washed away by the flood of concern that only served to make me anxious. I could worry all I liked, but there wasn¡¯t anything I could do, afraid to ask.

    So I just smiled and entered the room, silence between us. I could at least do that. She liked silence, after all. Not that it was all that silent with the wind howling, rain pelting the window, drumming an occasional beat.

    I settled on the bed, legs curled. It had taken a while, but, with the lack of chairs for most of my time in this world, I learned to make myself comfortable.

    Funny how much I could come to love something that I¡¯d barely paid attention to before. Not just the sound of heavy rain or the splatters on the window, but the smell, the refreshing feeling in the air, even how the thick clouds meant it was kind of dim. Cosy, making me want to snuggle with a blanket and drink hot chocolate and let my thoughts wander.

    Thunder rumbled, distant, yet loud. I turned around to check on Hyraj, the promise coming to mind, but she hadn¡¯t moved, sitting still as she read. If she was fine, no need to disturb her.

    It wasn¡¯t long until lunch and we ate the curry (or maybe it was a vegetable stew) in silence. A loud silence, the storm working up a roar. Howling wind and drumming rain and the odd rumble of thunder. So loud, I could barely think. Didn¡¯t want to think. All my thoughts were muddled, still worried how to tell Hyraj about what happened, still anxious over what was bothering her, unsure if it was the storm or something else.

    She seemed fine, though, so I didn¡¯t want to bother her. We ate, then I took our bowls through and washed them. When I came back, she was at the table again, reading, always reading. Perfect posture, like nothing in the world could shake her¡ª

    Lightning flashed, room painfully bright for a split-second, then the bone-shaking rumble, so much louder than before¡ªthe lightning strike so much closer, barely a second between the flash and rumble. I worried it might have even struck the other end of the village.

    Turning back to Hyraj¡ªbarely noticeable, she shook. Nothing in the world could shake her¡­ except herself. Softly smiling to myself, I took the step from bed to desk and rested my hand on top of her hand that gripped the book so tightly. A moment, then a shaky breath slipped out her mouth.

    ¡°That is it¡­ I am fine,¡± she said, her usual voice like a whisper with the wind outside, and she pulled away from my touch.

    Confused, I just stood there, unsure why she was acting different. If not like this, I thought I could try and distract her another way. ¡°Know how, I have fun with Sisi today,¡± I said, slipping off my hat.

    She didn¡¯t look right away, but eventually did, turning just enough to glance at me. It felt like her glance lingered a bit too long, though. It should have only taken a second to see my messy hair and laugh, yet she was still looking after a few seconds, not even a smile on her lips.

    My smile faded, feeling stupid. I wasn¡¯t good for much to begin with and I couldn¡¯t even make her smile when she needed it. Thinking, thinking, always thinking, but nothing good ever came from it.

    An intrusive thought, I wondered if I should have just said yes to Mr Arl. Wouldn¡¯t need to bother Hyraj any more. A comfortable life¡­ but would I be satisfied?

    No, that was never really a choice for me, was it? I liked Sisi, I liked Mr Arl, I even liked Frinnef, but it wasn¡¯t the kind of comfortable like I had with Hyraj¡­. The incident with Mrs Frinchen had taught me that. Hyraj supported me. I could be useful to Mr Arl, but could he support me? Could I accept his support?

    I didn¡¯t know. Well, that was my answer. Maybe if we had longer, maybe if I felt something more, but I didn¡¯t.

    Did Hyraj feel the same way about me? Could she accept my support, or was I just someone who could be useful to her? I wanted to know so badly it hurt, yet worried so much about the answer that I could never, ever ask it.

    My life hadn¡¯t taught me to be vulnerable. No, it taught me to expect nothing and still be disappointed. That things had gone so well with Hyraj until now was a real miracle.

    It wasn¡¯t good to think things would go well forever.

    The rain drummed against the window, wind howled, building creaked and groaned, so very loud, yet it felt so quiet. She glanced at me and I stared at her.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she said, turning back so that she couldn¡¯t even glance at me, ¡°will you be leaving immediately?¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Thoroughly thrown off by the question, I asked, ¡°Leaving for where?¡±

    ¡°Mr Arl.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ I went already? He wanted me for the morning,¡± I said, still so confused.

    She let out a bit of a huff. ¡°There is¡­ no need to be considerate. Mr Arl has already asked if I know of any family he should speak to before proposing to you.¡±

    As if joking, I lightly said, ¡°Even if he asked me, I don¡¯t know¡ª¡± only to stop there, the realisation hitting me like a truck. She knew.

    ¡°So tell me, when will you be leaving? Today? Once the storm lightens?¡±

    Smiling softly to myself, I replied, ¡°I said no.¡±

    ¡°And I told you, I am well aware of his plans, so¡ª¡±

    ¡°I told him no,¡± I said. ¡°He asked to marry and I told him no.¡±

    Silence, that loud silence amidst the storm, that quiet silence where I didn¡¯t even think, waiting to hear what she had to say next.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she whispered, ¡°you told him no?¡±

    ¡°I told him no.¡±

    Her hand that had been ever so slightly trembling this whole time finally stilled, only for a shaky breath to slip out¡ªas if she was expelling the tremble from her body. ¡°Are you sure? His reputation, he is a good man and was good to his passed-wife, and his career is stable with good prospects. While the difference in age is large, I doubt he would be¡­ expectant, so it would not be a burden as such.¡±

    It was almost funny hearing her talk like this, for once not speaking at her calm pace. I was even tempted to ask, if he was so good, why didn¡¯t she marry him. However¡­ I didn¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t exactly excitement in her voice? More like¡­ desperation, or like she was trying to convince herself. Like she wasn¡¯t talking to me at all, just letting out the thoughts she¡¯d told herself.

    Anyway, that she knew he had proposed, I felt like I could say a little more on what happened. ¡°He wasn¡¯t interested in me as a wife, but a mother,¡± I said.

    ¡°Is that not fine? You care for Sisi, no?¡± she said.

    I shook my head¡ªnot that she saw, not that she¡¯d know what it meant if she did. ¡°I¡­ have cared for a lot of children. I care for every child I see. But a mother¡ªwhat even is she? I never knew. I care for children, I want to care for children, but I do not love them. Not like a parent. Maybe a sister or a cousin, but not a mother. I want Sisi to be happy, but she doesn¡¯t need me be a mother, she has her father.¡±

    ¡°Is it that?¡± Hyraj muttered.

    My turn to sigh, I stepped back to the bed, settling down on it. This conversation had taken a lot out of me and I didn¡¯t have much left after the chat with Mr Arl to begin with. ¡°If I marry¡­ I want love.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think you could come to love him?¡±

    I smiled to myself, bittersweet. ¡°Honestly, not only him, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve¡­ liked any boy or man. They all look such hard work. When I think about¡­ being a wife, I think I¡¯m better off on my own. Or with you. I like this very much. It¡¯s¡­ comfortable.¡±

    Sort of rambling by the end, I stopped myself and hoped I hadn¡¯t offended her, not sure how she¡¯d take what I said.

    ¡°You never found a man particularly handsome?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Is it that? Not much, I suppose? They quite all look the same to me,¡± I said, unsure how exactly to answer. Like, some celebrities were handsome, but I, like, never picked one out and hung up posters and stuff that other girls seemed to do. And at school, girls gossiped about who the ¡°hot boys¡± were, but I didn¡¯t see anything special about them or any other boy. No love-at-first sight, no crushes.

    She didn¡¯t reply right away. Silence, one second becoming ten, and I wondered if the conversation was finished. Half a minute passing, passed, then she asked, ¡°Is that perhaps because you prefer women?¡±

    I almost answered yes, barely stopping myself with the word on the tip of my tongue. ¡°Prefer¡± was¡­ a euphemism, one that came up a lot in her book. A lady in it preferred a man who could make her laugh, one gentleman preferred a woman who could make him wince with her smile.

    She was asking if I¡¯m gay?

    ¡°That is it, I don¡¯t think I do. Man or woman, I can¡¯t say there¡¯s been anyone I¡­ prefer,¡± I said, stumbling. I had nothing against gay people, but did this world? That anxiety pushed me to change the conversation, so I asked, ¡°What about you? What kind of man do you prefer?¡±

    ¡°The kind of person I prefer is not a man,¡± she said.

    She took in a deep breath and let it out.

    ¡°There is a tradition among my people, one that apparently comes from Kroustoa. Older girls are encouraged to write sweet letters and send gifts to each other. I have read that it is to prepare them for shallow men; however, like all traditions, I doubt it began and continues with any such intention.¡±

    She shifted in her seat, idly giving her book a tap before continuing.

    ¡°So I partook. At my parents¡¯ encouragement, even. I wrote countless letters to other girls and sent countless gifts. It all came so naturally when, to me, other girls were so beautiful, so interesting, so funny. All I had to do was tell them how I felt.

    ¡°For years, that was fine. Some of them grew out of it and wrote to boys, but I still had a few such friends. However, my parents began to chide me for it. They would make comments on how childish it was to still be doing it at my age. Until, at last¡­.¡±

    Pausing there, she brought up her hands to cover her face for a moment, then carried on.

    ¡°Truth spoken, my family is rather, not exactly wealthy, or, rather, has a different kind of wealth? To put it simply, my parents have the expectation of me to become Krinjor. It is not an unreasonable expectation either. If I followed their advice, I am sure it would happen.

    ¡°Their advice, though, is to¡­ marry a man and have at least one child. That is something I cannot bring myself to consider. As grateful as I am for the upbringing they provided me, full of love and lacking nothing, I cannot deny myself on this.¡±

    At the end, she spoke with such conviction, voice so clear¡ªI saw why she believed she could become the leader of the country, yet I also saw her hand tremble.

    Sure enough, her voice quivered as she said, ¡°If only they had another child to carry this expectation¡­.¡±

    Silence settled after that, giving me room to think. She really had given me a lot to think about. Just that, well, had she? I didn¡¯t need to have an opinion. This was all¡­ things to know. Like, what, was she telling me all this because she wanted my approval? No way.

    Anyway, it wasn¡¯t like she was the first person to come out to me. Back in my world, at the orphanage, a few had over the years, so I sort of knew what to say, but didn¡¯t want to sound condescending¡­.

    I settled on something simple: ¡°Thank you for speaking truth.¡±

    She didn¡¯t turn to look at me, but, this time, I could feel she was talking to me, not just talking aloud. ¡°You do not feel uncomfortable staying with me? You do understand what I mean by preferring women?¡±

    ¡°I understand, and I am comfortable,¡± I said, almost laughing at how dense she thought I was. Smile growing, I said, ¡°After all, because you prefer women, you don¡¯t prefer me, does it?¡±

    ¡°I do, though. I very much prefer you.¡±

    My smile froze, heart giving a rather painful thump as if what she¡¯d said gave it an electric shock. Within the second, I felt my cheeks start to prickle, burning hot. Men had stared at me in the streets, boys at school made rude comments, but¡­ Hyraj hadn¡¯t lied when she said complimenting women came naturally to her. How she¡¯d said it¡ªso simply, so honestly¡ªfelt different. Or maybe it was because I hadn¡¯t noticed her staring at me that way before, because I felt comfortable with her, that it felt genuine.

    She ¡°very much preferred¡± me. It said nothing, but felt like it said so much.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she said, standing up, ¡°I shall go stay at the inn¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I said¡ªin English. Realising, I said again, ¡°No.¡±

    She stilled, stood in front of the desk. ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°That¡­ there is no need.¡±

    Bringing up her hand, she let out a giggle. It sounded almost childish coming from her, how she was always so composed, so mature. ¡°You would have me stay here, knowing how I feel for you?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ trust you,¡± I whispered.

    For a long moment, nothing was said. The rain poured and wind howled and she stood there. ¡°Very well,¡± she whispered back and sat down again, shuffling the chair back under the table. Opening her book, she began to read.

    It felt¡­ anticlimactic, but that wasn¡¯t a complaint. I was happy with how things were. I didn¡¯t want anything to change.

    She read, the weather stormed, and I sat on the bed, glad it was just loud enough that I didn¡¯t need to listen to my thoughts.

 Ch. 48 What is love?

    After a lazy weekend stuck inside because of the storm, I went to work on Monday amongst the lingering drizzle. Despite doing my best not to think, my mind buzzed, unwanted thoughts sneaking up on me if I dared relax for a second.

    As much as I wanted to pretend it hadn¡¯t happened, Hyraj had confessed to me. It wasn¡¯t that I was disgusted by it or anything, but¡­ I felt uneasy. It was, like, me? Really? As nice as it had felt at the time to hear her say she ¡°preferred¡± me, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to believe it now. Even if I didn¡¯t know what women looked for in other women, I knew I wasn¡¯t the prettiest, wasn¡¯t that clever, couldn¡¯t really cook, not that good at cleaning and washing clothes without stuff like a dishwasher and washing machine. Like, you had to be really strong to carry wet clothes! I could barely manage with just the travel clothes we wore¡­.

    Anyway, you know, she was beautiful and clever and elegant, and her family were a really big deal? She didn¡¯t exactly say her parents were upset she was gay, just upset that she wasn¡¯t ¡°normal¡±. Even in my world, I couldn¡¯t think of any country having a gay prime minister or president or leader, so they didn¡¯t seem super homophobic? She¡¯d even said something like, ¡°If only I had a sibling.¡± Like, if her parents didn¡¯t want her to be the¡­ Krinjor? Yeah, the Krinjor. If they didn¡¯t want her to be the Krinjor, she wouldn¡¯t have needed to run away, that they would have accepted her?

    Reaching Mr Arl¡¯s house, I took a deep breath and pushed away the pointless thoughts. Thinking about it did me no good.

    It was a day like any other from there, Sisi chattering away as she tugged me along to the lounge. Almost like any other.

    ¡°Dida know my mama liked to read books?¡± Sisi asked, looking awfully serious with her narrowed eyes.

    Only after a few seconds did I realise she was asking, ¡°Did you¡­¡±. ¡°She did?¡± I asked.

    Sisi happily clapped her hands that way that meant ¡°yes¡±. ¡°Mm, papa said she liked romance stories.¡± More literally, it was ¡°over-love¡± stories, but that was how genres were described here. Over-travel (adventure), over-fighting (action). Sounded weird to me at first, but our names were pretty weird too when I thought about it.

    Didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was¡­ Mr Arl took my advice. Sisi just had fact after fact to share about her mum, like all they¡¯d done over the weekend was talk about her¡ªfrom the books she liked to where they met to how much she loved Sisi. Oh, Sisi said that with such a smug grin.

    Listening to her, I knew she still very much had a mother, and I didn¡¯t. That I never could. Even if the woman who gave birth to me appeared in front of me, nothing could make her my mother. That bond had broken, scabbed over, and left a scar. There was no place in my life for a mother, not her.

    They weren¡¯t sad thoughts, but I kept them to myself, my face showing nothing but interest in what Sisi had to say.

    ¡°And papa said mama ¡¯ould be so happy to see my pretty hair,¡± Sisi said, mumbling into her shoulder as she turned her head¡ªtrying to see her hair? Reaching back, she pulled the little braid out from under her hat. ¡°Papa tried, but Big Cousin said she can¡¯t let me look like that? I don¡¯t know, but then she did it, and it¡¯s almost as nice as yours! Isn¡¯t she good?¡±

    My heart squeezed at that little compliment. ¡°She¡¯s very good,¡± I said.

    Once Sisi had exhausted herself of ¡°gossip¡±, we went into our usual things. Some games, some lessons, and she even brought up practising braiding. ¡°Papa said we gonna see grandmama soon, so I want to show her I can braid my hair like mama.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, smiling softly.

    Those stories of her mum maybe kept her up late because, as the afternoon stretched on, she started to nod off until finally falling asleep. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d napped, not something Mr Arl minded, so I left her for now. Really, I could understand it. When the rain was just a drizzle like today, the world felt oh so quiet, calm. The sound of our breathing, the shuffle of Frinnef¡¯s chair upstairs or the creak of her door, mixed with the perpetual twilight of an overcast sky, and a cosy warmth.

    However, that just left me with my own thoughts.

    Rather than carry on where I¡¯d left off earlier, I ended up thinking about how open Hyraj had been with me, telling me such a personal story. I¡­ hadn¡¯t told her anything. Not really. Honestly, could I?

    The stuff about my old world was maybe too much, but could I bring myself to tell her about the nights I¡¯d spent silently crying, wishing someone would ¡°rescue¡± me? The dull ache I felt when someone else was fostered or adopted, afraid to ask myself why it wasn¡¯t me? I needed to be a good girl. Why would someone adopt a girl who broke all her things and screamed all the time¡­ when they could have me?

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    I was covered in scars, covered up my scars, afraid to scare away people who weren¡¯t even interested in me to begin with. But now¡­ if Hyraj really liked me, well, would she still like me when I wasn¡¯t covered up?

    After spending so long being unloved, I had just assumed it was because I couldn¡¯t be. That, if she really did love me, then she was wrong. She had missed something everyone else had seen and she would also leave me once she saw what it was.

    Living alone on the mountain¡­ there hadn¡¯t been any need to pretend. What I loved about that time was that no one had expectations of me. No, that was wrong. It was that I didn¡¯t imagine what expectations other people had for me. I wasn¡¯t trying to live up to the image I wanted them to have of me.

    Then Hyraj came along and, while I struggled a bit at first, wanting her to think highly of me, we eventually settled into¡­ this. It was different, it was the same. I still wanted to be helpful, but it was more about wanting to help her than make her think I was helpful. It wasn¡¯t just me pouring myself out and getting nothing in return.

    Back at the orphanage, I loved those kids. Maybe they loved me too. But it wasn¡¯t the kind of love that supported me. It was¡­ a crutch. Helped me get through the days. Helped me ignore my own pain.

    The little things Hyraj did for me¡­ meant so much. On the mountain, I was healing, but she helped me to stand up again. If she was only being nice to me because she liked me, so what? It would be great if everyone in the world could be nice to everyone else all the time, but that wasn¡¯t the world we lived in, neither of the worlds I¡¯d lived in.

    It was fine if she was only being nice to me because she liked me. Just that¡­ it meant she might not keep being nice if she didn¡¯t like me.

    Letting out a sigh, I looked away from Sisi, turned to the rain drops racing down the window. I didn¡¯t want things to change. I didn¡¯t want to open up my old wounds. More than that, though, I didn¡¯t want to take her ¡°love¡± for granted. I didn¡¯t want to be a child who naively accepted all her love and never made an effort to return it.

    Thinking of that, I smiled to myself. Maybe I could just pretend. There wasn¡¯t the same sort of reaction like with Mr Arl where I knew I couldn¡¯t marry him. With Hyraj¡­ would things be so bad? I probably wasn¡¯t going to get married anyway. And I did love her¡ªnot the same way she loved me, but how comfortable I felt with her¡­.

    Well, it wasn¡¯t a serious thought. I couldn¡¯t lie to her like that.

    My thoughts swirled, the rain drizzled, and it wasn¡¯t long before Sisi stirred. Standing up, I went over to her and coaxed her out of her dreams. Back to work.

    The afternoon passed and, before I knew it, Mr Arl returned. On my way out, he told me a little more of their moving plans. The date they were aiming for. And he said, ¡°If Miss Louise did wish to move to Grahtkroustad, there would be a job for them.¡±

    Facing the door, I smiled. ¡°Miss Louise will be staying with Miss Hyraj for now.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    The drizzle greeted me outside, warm and humid. I took a deep breath, then strode back to the place that, for now, I called home.

    My heart seemed to beat quicker with every step. I was nervous, no, excited. Had to tell myself I was doing the right thing. Try to convince myself, otherwise I might have chickened out. So it wasn¡¯t nerves, I was excited, so happy to finally open up to someone.

    Of course, I still hesitated outside our door for a long moment, taking in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly.

    Once I knocked, the sound of the chair scraping rang out, her footsteps, then the click of the door. A little song I¡¯d come to know so well. Smiling at that thought, I looked up at her when she opened the door. She had her own smile. A second, then I realised why, all of a sudden feeling shy as a rush of heat went straight to my face. Looking down, I couldn¡¯t keep off the awkward smile.

    ¡°Pleased you came back.¡±

    Stepping into the room, I busied myself with taking off my coat. ¡°Pleased to be back,¡± I mumbled, straightening out the creases to keep from fidgeting. When she was back in her seat, I let out a sigh of relief.

    Nothing had changed, but I was so conscious of her gaze now, felt so¡­ seen. It was always¡­ gentle. Not like those men on the streets. Like, she looked at me, not my body. And that made me feel so awkward. Of all the people, I really wasn¡¯t worth looking at. Nothing about my face was beautiful¡­.

    Falling into those thoughts, I caught myself. Not the time for self-hate. After taking a second to pull myself together, I went to help with dinner. My routine. And then, obviously, it was dinnertime, so we ate. Like always, in silence.

    A loud silence. My heart pounded in my chest, definitely not nervous, but excited. I was¡­ so excited I was going to open up to her. I was excited for her to know more about me. I was excited to see how disappointed she¡¯d look after learning how shallow I was.

    So very excited.

    She always ate pretty quick, like her jaw was a machine that kept chewing at a steady pace. Today, though, I really lagged behind, only half done by the time she finished. Without the food for her to focus on, I noticed¡ªfelt¡ªher gaze all the more. Not that she was staring at me, but she¡¯d look around and our eyes would meet for a moment before she moved on. And my heart would squeeze, reminded of what I had planned, making the food in my mouth all the harder to swallow.

    Three-quarters eaten, I gave up trying and stood up.

    ¡°Is something upsetting?¡±

    I stilled, then carried on, trying not to look so tense¡­ for what good it did. ¡°No, it¡¯s¡ªlet me take these first,¡± I said.

    Her hand settled on top of mine. ¡°Let me,¡± she said. It was both gentle and an order. I couldn¡¯t argue, the words like a spell that made me leave the plates and sit down again. Only once she was out the room did I realise what had happened and laugh to myself.

    She really did love me, and I had no clue how I missed the signs for so long.

 Ch. 49 Deserved

    By the time Hyraj came back from washing our plates, I found a peace. Well, I could breathe, so that was a good start. She stepped inside without a word, silently taking her seat. Elegant. I wondered if she¡¯d studied that¡ªhow to walk. Sometimes, she didn¡¯t make a sound, while other times it was like announcing her presence.

    She had so much control over herself. Really, it was hard to believe we were the same age. Hard, but not impossible, the few times I¡¯d glimpsed behind her mask enough to show me that it was just a mask.

    Her family¡­ I couldn¡¯t imagine that kind of expectation. How much it must have shaped her. Was she better for it, or not, or just different? I didn¡¯t know and I doubted she did either.

    But tonight wasn¡¯t about her, was it? I was distracting myself. Anything to avoid the pain of opening up. Only now I was so close did I realise, remember, that what I was worried about wasn¡¯t that she¡¯d hate me, but that she wouldn¡¯t care. Because that was how this had always gone before.

    Always someone more important to worry about, and I would feel better soon, it wasn¡¯t so bad. Little words that didn¡¯t sound bad, but chipped away at me. Like I wasn¡¯t supposed to feel anything. That having these emotions was now a burden on them, so shouldn¡¯t I keep them to myself next time?

    Worse still, I knew that burden, looking after the little ones. I knew the burden, so I kept my burden to myself. I could carry it. I was strong. Strong enough. There wasn¡¯t much I could do, but I could keep myself from being a burden.

    Thoughts twisting and turning and squirming and¡ª

    ¡°Louise?¡±

    Silence, just the odd creak, even the drizzle too light to hear inside. After a deep breath in and out, I realised my hands were balled up tight, numb to the tingle of pain where my fingernails dug into my palm. I opened my hands, glad I hadn¡¯t cut myself or anything. Little by little, I found the muscles I¡¯d tensed and relaxed them, almost collapsing now there was nothing holding me up.

    One spot I¡¯d missed, Hyraj stepped over¡ªI didn¡¯t notice when she¡¯d stood up¡ªand wiped my cheeks with a handkerchief. Guessed I cried. Ah, I¡¯d cried more since coming here than I had in years.

    Hyraj surely worried enough by now, but I wasn¡¯t ready to get into the tough part, so I started with something easier. ¡°Do you¡­ are there more people who¡­ come here, not speak?¡± I asked, struggling for the words or how to phrase it, not the sort of stuff that came up in conversation or her book.

    Her reply didn¡¯t come quick, taking a moment to think. ¡°That is it¡­ would you like the little answer or large answer?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The large answer.¡±

    She stepped back and took her seat again, but still faced me, a gentle smile on her face. There was no mask right now. This wasn¡¯t her normal look with a slight tug at the corners¡¯ of her mouth, but a smile, one that reached her eyes.

    ¡°Kroustoa and Crisoa, there is a similarity in their names that comes from the Jichin Canon. I am not much of an expert, that the sort of thing those in churches study, but both continents loosely mean ¡®god¡¯s land¡¯.¡±

    She didn¡¯t explain it, but the word she used for ¡°land¡± was ¡°stoa¡±. Maybe ¡°earth¡± was a better translation? It meant the literal ground beneath our feet and also something more general, hard to put it into words. For god, she used ¡°krouen¡±. There were many gods, though, so this was the general name for them, not one in particular.

    ¡°It is a common debate about whether a land comes to be when a god is born, or if a god is born when a land comes to be. Whatever the truth, Kroustoa and Crisoyo are among the oldest¡ªif not the oldest.

    ¡°Otherhand, this land of Hearsch is the youngest. Before it, Kroustoa and Criosoyo barely traded, the journey perilous to the point few succeeded. Still, there was a fortune to be made for those that did make it. That, though, is another story. When Hearsch rose, it was recorded that Krouen Alnaya offered sanctity to those adrift. Of course, that was in the Jichin Canon¡ª¡±

    She paused there, her nose twitching, then let out a long breath.

    ¡°You did not know of the Jichin Canon, did you?¡± she said¡ªmore to herself than me. Sure enough, she continued before I could answer. ¡°Jichin, meaning council of words, and canon, meaning records.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t realised before, but it would have been quite the coincidence for canon to mean the same thing in her language. A coincidence enough it meant something kinda similar.

    ¡°It is¡­ the first language, given to us when the first land rose up and our ancestors grew from among the plants to become like who we are today. Of course, as time goes on, we invent new words and change how we say old words, and our languages drift apart, some languages even invented completely anew as new lands appeared¡ªor so we think.¡±

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    Stopping there, she gave this world¡¯s equivalent to a shrug.

    ¡°Enough of a detour. Alnaya offered sanctity in the Jichin Canon¡±¡ªold language¡ª¡°so it has been¡­ debated what exactly that means. After all, the church is studying books written about books written about books, the oldest carvings long since weathered and broken. In particular, sanctity has a specific meaning among the church; however, to most others, it means much less.¡±

    Her drifting gaze now returned to me, looking me in the eye, and she softly smiled.

    ¡°Whatever we think, it is a truth that people from distant lands have arrived on our shores. Some even had no recollection of where they came from. A thing funny¡­ it is the case that many would treat such a stranger with more kindness than they would their neighbour. So, if not me, then someone else would have taken my place at your side,¡± she said, that last sentence coming out as a whisper.

    I didn¡¯t know what to say. Everything else had already given me so much to think about, then she said that and¡­ what could I say? As my brain fried itself, her smile melted away and she turned back to the table.

    ¡°Happy you,¡± I said, sputtering out only those two words in my, like, panic. Swallowing my embarrassment, I said it more clearly. ¡°I¡¯m happy it was you.¡±

    She said nothing, the side of her face not showing a smile, her gaze still on the table in front of her.

    Pushing through my hazy mind, I felt like I couldn¡¯t stop. Silence now would be too painful¡ªfor both of us. ¡°Those people¡­ do they ever talk of a place no people know?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I cannot say. All I do know is that some came from impossibly distant lands, that something brought them here.¡±

    The silence began to fill the room and, nothing else coming to mind, I had to be ready. ¡°Where I came from, I wasn¡¯t happy.¡±

    The dam broke.

    Stumbling over my words, I let out all the feelings I¡¯d kept to myself. The loneliness, the pain, the little control I had left used to keep from mentioning too much about my world, but that left me with nothing to keep the rest of my truths falling out. Some of them, even I didn¡¯t know I knew.

    ¡°I was¡­ so scared that¡­ when I grew up¡­ they would send me away,¡± I whispered, arms wrapped around myself as if to keep from falling apart. ¡°I needed them to need me. I needed to¡­ have a job there. If not, if not¡­ I not know how I live. And when the accident, and I save Hatty, maybe¡­ maybe I could save myself, but¡­ didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Louise,¡± Hyraj whispered.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said, looking up, and the tears fell. All the tears, my nose snotty, throat so tight I could barely breathe. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    She stood up, only to hesitate. I didn¡¯t know why. There was no room in my head or my heart to think right now. But I knew to open my arms, to look at her like the little ones always looked at me, knowing no one could resist. She was no different. One step, two, and she was in front of me, wrapping her arms around me.

    I hugged her back, afraid to hurt her, but finally learned why kids squeezed as hard as they could. Like I needed to break myself before putting myself back together. So I tensed up, every muscle straining against itself, until I collapsed, broken, ready to be fixed. Well, to fix myself. I was so thankful she was here to listen, but I wasn¡¯t going to expect more than that from her. It wouldn¡¯t be fair.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumbled, letting her go.

    She lingered for a second, then stepped back. Cringing, I saw the snotty mark I left on her shoulder, so terrible it was almost funny. I pulled out my handkerchief and went to wipe it, but she plucked it from my hand and did it herself.

    Nothing else to do, I again said, ¡°Sorry.¡±

    She chuckled, her other hand covering her mouth. ¡°There is no need to apologise. Rather, I am sorry to hear how your life has been. It has been so hard for you for so long.¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± I said, voice a little hoarse after, well, everything. ¡°I had a room to stay, food. No scared.¡±

    Silence, I looked up at her and saw a face I hadn¡¯t seen before. There were tears in her eyes.

    ¡°You were a child,¡± she whispered. ¡°A child deserves a home, to be loved, and to have a childhood. You had none of those. So I will say it again: I am sorry it has been so hard for you for so long.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡­¡± But that was all I could say, every other word evaporating as I stared into her glistening eyes. She hadn¡¯t cried when talking about what she¡¯d gone through. Her hand shook, but that was all. Was my pain really more than that?

    Was I really allowed to cry?

    Before I knew it, I was crying again. ¡°It was hard,¡± I whispered, barely a sound.

    But she heard and she reached out, holding my hands. ¡°It was,¡± she whispered back, squeezing tight.

    I didn¡¯t know how badly I needed that until she¡¯d said it. That, for all my doubts, all the time I¡¯d spent thinking it could be worse, hating myself for feeling ungrateful¡­ she agreed. I wasn¡¯t a horrible person. I was¡­ a child who deserved better.

    Really, I¡¯d always known that, but believed it was selfish. Of course I¡¯d think my life was terrible and I deserved better. Everyone was always envious. If I had a cheap phone or a laptop, I¡¯d want a better one. If I had new clothes, I¡¯d want nicer ones.

    Where was the line between want and deserve? I¡¯d been afraid to draw it myself, but now she had done it for me and it took such a weight off my shoulders. Some people had hard lives, bad things happened, and they didn¡¯t deserve it.

    But I deserved better.

    Even though that couldn¡¯t change the past; that, even if I had demanded better, it wouldn¡¯t have changed anything back then¡­ it changed me now. I¡­ was broken, and that was fine. It wasn¡¯t my fault I was broken. Knowing that, I believed I could fix myself. I wasn¡¯t, like, genetically broken. I didn¡¯t have to always be broken, that wasn¡¯t who I naturally was.

    I was just a normal girl with a terrible past and that was okay. After all, my future was mine, wasn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whispered.

    ¡°There is¡­ no need for thanks because of giving you what you deserve,¡± she whispered back.

    I squeezed her hands and let out a giggle. ¡°That is it, you know what I deserve, so are you going to give me all of it?¡± I said, thinking myself so clever for that joke.

    ¡°If you so wish.¡±

    It was still a whisper, but such a different whisper, sounding so rich instead of light. And her hands holding mine, her fingers slipped between mine, entwined, sending a tingle down my arms that became a shiver down my spine. And her eyes staring into mine, still watery, yet now looked so deep, pulling me in, begging me to fall¡ª

    I looked away, face hot and heart pounding. ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    ¡°What are you hearing?¡± she said back, her playful voice tickling my ears.

    I should have asked her to stop. I should have pulled away my hand. But, right now, it felt so comforting. It wasn¡¯t the love I wanted, but it was still love¡ªand I deserved love.

    At least, that was what I told myself.

 Ch. 50 Selfish

    After opening up to Hyraj, I felt lighter. It was easier to smile and easier to laugh. I hadn¡¯t realised how, all these years, keeping that to myself had¡­ burdened me. Funny, because I¡¯d thought Hyraj was shaped by her parents¡¯ heavy expectations. I was shaped by my own heavy expectations. By my own burdens.

    Still, I¡¯d picked up another burden after putting my old ones down. Hyraj¡¯s confession wasn¡¯t something I could forget. It was easy to tell her that I trusted her, but was that fair to her? Those moments where I felt like she was being more than a friend and didn¡¯t push back, enjoying the attention¡ªwasn¡¯t I sending the wrong message?

    It was the kind of thing that happened a lot at school. Well, not to me, but there were boys who¡¯d get the wrong idea from girls just acting polite. I didn¡¯t know of any girls taking advantage of boys who had crushes on them, but it wasn¡¯t impossible that happened too. Not like I was involved in gossiping.

    Anyway, it wasn¡¯t quite the same, but I didn¡¯t want to mislead her. I didn¡¯t want to take advantage of her feelings. Well, more than I was already. Despite what she¡¯d said about the goddess and giving strangers sanctity, I didn¡¯t think she would have treated me this well if she didn¡¯t like me, so¡­.

    So what?

    I looked up, sun hovering around the horizon and dying the sky in the beautiful colours of dawn. Something I¡¯d never really looked at it in my old world. We were in the city, so not really the best views, and the days were always getting longer or shorter, so my alarm would have only woken me up at sunrise for a few weeks or something. Here, the days seemed about the same length? Somewhere near the equator?

    Thoughts drifting, unwilling to focus on the difficult situation I was in. Ignoring it like everything would be fine. After all, I didn¡¯t know how to solve problems. Not ones like this.

    Emotions crashing against thoughts, I let out a breath, settling myself before I knocked on the door. Like most mornings, my knock was closely followed by the pitter-patter of Sisi¡¯s feet. She didn¡¯t crash into the door today.

    Once inside, I was back to normal, focused on my job. Sisi really was such a good girl. The little ones back at the orphanage were good too, but it was different. They were different, I was different, the world was different.

    I never had enough time before, under pressure to get the important stuff done. Every day was a list of things for them to do: brush teeth, eat, dress for school, get to school, homework¡­. Anything else cut into the little time I had spare. Not that I used it for myself, usually talking to them about school, comforting them¡­.

    Was I satisfied? When the goddess¡ªAlnaya?¡ªhad asked me that, I was in the middle of one of those days. It was easy to say I wasn¡¯t. Even now, I know I wasn¡¯t back then. But I didn¡¯t hate that life.

    Or rather, I loved some parts and hated some parts, and those were sometimes the same parts. Like how a child could do the same thing a million times and still make you laugh, except when they did it at the wrong time.

    With Sisi, like, I didn¡¯t have to hate her. If she wasn¡¯t listening or messing around, that was fine. Not like we¡¯d be late. Not like I¡¯d get in trouble. Not like she¡¯d get seriously hurt. Poking her finger with a needle hurt, but it wasn¡¯t going to kill her like, well, a runaway truck would.

    Was it the same with Hyraj? I kept my thoughts from drifting too far, still focused on helping Sisi practice knitting, but that thought lingered at the back of my head, waiting.

    Still there even when Mr Arl returned. After he greeted Sisi, I gave him the quick run-down of her day, then excused myself, already pulling out all the thoughts I¡¯d put away during the day.

    But he stopped me. ¡°That is it, there was one thing I forgot to mention yesterday. Rather than ¡®proud¡¯, it is ¡®prideful¡¯,¡± he said with a little smile.

    Panicking a bit, I quickly said, ¡°Oh, I am so sorry¡ª¡±

    He waved me off, shooing his hand. ¡°It is understandable. Miss Hyraj says they have only been learning our language for a few months?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes,¡± I said, fighting the urge to fidget.

    ¡°Then they are doing rather well, I would say. Proud is an oddity of writing. Truth spoken, it is quite common for children to misuse prideful when writing, so it is very much a common mistake.¡±

    His patient explanation was different to how Hyraj would do it, but it still had the same touch of care. A father¡¯s lesson. ¡°Their thanks, I shall remember it,¡± I said.

    A second passing, I went to leave again, only to again be stopped by him speaking. ¡°Miss Hyraj¡­ I feel I do owe them both an apology.¡± Seeing my confusion, he added, ¡°For the unreasonable request I made.¡±

    Realising he meant the ¡°proposal¡±, I shooed my hand. ¡°It is, uh, nothing.¡±

    Only for him to shoo back. ¡°It is a little more than nothing,¡± he said, his smile wry. ¡°If I had not thought so selfishly, I would have noticed they are hesale.¡±

    Hesale¡­ it was almost familiar, close to other words, but what it meant eluded me right now. Not just that, it brought me back to what happened with Mrs Frinchen. A rush of anxiety, I didn¡¯t want to ask him what it meant, but couldn¡¯t just agree or disagree without knowing.

    Trying to be clever, I came up with something to ask. ¡°Why would Mr Arl say that?¡±

    ¡°That is it, for two women of no relation to travel together¡ªand travel rather far at that¡ªit is obvious, no?¡± he said, a little laughter in his voice.

    I couldn¡¯t be sure, maybe thinking of it because of what was going on with Hyraj, but was he calling us gay? Not sure what else his answer could mean¡­. But then, he didn¡¯t seem to mind if we were?

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    Working myself into knots, I stopped there and awkwardly said, ¡°I¡¯ll make leave now.¡±

    ¡°Of course, good workings,¡± he said, still with that little smile.

    Needless to say, I couldn¡¯t stop myself from thinking about it the whole way back. Hyraj hadn¡¯t exactly said whether gay people were accepted here? She thought that, if her parents didn¡¯t want her to become the krinjor, then they would have been fine with it. That wasn¡¯t quite the same as being accepted by everyone else, though. Maybe Mr Arl was just an accepting person or maybe because he already knew us and thought we were ¡°good ones¡±.

    In the end, what stopped me agonising over it was that, after knocking on our door, there was no answer. I wasn¡¯t worried, waiting a minute or two in case she went to the toilet. No sign of her.

    The room only had one key. I could have gone to the kitchen, not like I needed anything from our room to help with the cooking. But I didn¡¯t.

    Back outside, some clouds floated across the sky, maybe dark enough for a drizzle, but no storm yet. Even if it was raining, it wasn¡¯t exactly a far walk to her work. Even though it had been a while, the ¡°receptionist¡± remembered me, telling me, ¡°Ah, she hasn¡¯t left yet,¡± and sort of ushering me through, like he didn¡¯t want me to dawdle in his space.

    That silly thought put a smile on my face, one that stayed when I walked through to find only Hyraj in the room. She didn¡¯t seem to notice me, head down, lips pursed, papers neatly spread across her desk as she appeared to be deep in thought. After a while, she wrote something down, shuffled the pages around, and went back to thinking.

    There was something nice about watching her work. Couldn¡¯t say why, just that I was content to stand there and watch her. Not that I would have interrupted her anyway.

    Seconds became minutes, only when she finally took a break to look up and sigh that she spotted me. It was almost instant: her pursed lips thinned into a soft smile, narrowed eyes opening wide¡ªas if to see me better. Then she tapped either side of her head, a gesture of, like, admitting she made a mistake?

    I understood why a moment later, her hand reaching into a pocket and taking out the key. ¡°My apologies, it didn¡¯t occur to me,¡± she said as she beckoned me over.

    ¡°No issue,¡± I said, smiling. Reaching out to take the key, she instead held my hand, just for a moment, then turned it over, leaving the key on my palm.

    ¡°I shan¡¯t be much longer.¡±

    Though I was tempted to say I¡¯d wait, my hand still felt hot where she¡¯d touched me. Since we¡¯d gone through all that fuss to hand over the key, I couldn¡¯t really say I¡¯d stay, could I?

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    I walked back to our room, confused. She¡¯d held my hand before and it hadn¡¯t felt like that. Did she do something different this time? Did I? Was it just that, now I knew, I was sensitive to it? It wasn¡¯t like I hated it, though.

    My thoughts drifted back to Mr Arl and I wondered if she had always touched me like that, but I hadn¡¯t realised while everyone else had. Did Mrs Frinchen think we were a couple? Maybe she thought Hyraj was¡­ taking advantage of me?

    I didn¡¯t know. Really, I didn¡¯t want to know, but I couldn¡¯t stop myself. Caring what other people thought about me was just so ingrained in who I was. I didn¡¯t have a problem with gay people, but Mr Arl thinking I was gay when I wasn¡¯t really triggered my anxiety. Like I was lying to him. Like I needed to correct him. The more I thought about, the guiltier I felt.

    A knock on the door, a muffled voice saying, ¡°I am here.¡±

    The mess I¡¯d lost myself in broke down until there was only silence in my head. Walking over, I opened the door for her. Out of habit, I almost said, ¡°Pleased to be back,¡± but managed to catch myself in time to say, ¡°Pleased you came back.¡±

    ¡°Pleased to be back,¡± she answered, a small smile on her lips.

    It felt strange to be the one greeting her. Strange, but not bad. How, this time, I was the one who sat and watched as she took off her coat and shoes and slipped on her slippers, taking off her hat and fiddling with her hair.

    I hadn¡¯t been braiding her hair since I started looking after Sisi at Mr Arl¡¯s house. Had to leave early, so not the time. But, watching her comb through it, I had the urge to braid it right now. I didn¡¯t give in, though.

    While I didn¡¯t want to treat her differently because of her feelings, while I wanted everything to stay the same for ever and ever, I couldn¡¯t do this. Some things were blurred with no clear answer, but I felt like braiding her hair was crossing a line, at least when there wasn¡¯t a reason.

    There was being selfish and there was being cruel.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go help cook,¡± I said, shuffling around her to leave the room.

    ¡°That is it.¡±

    As distracted as I was by thoughts, I focused up while cooking. When it came to eating, I forced myself, not wanting to worry her again. In a better state today, I took our plates through to wash without a fuss.

    Back in the room, there was the usual silence as she read, I sat on the bed. Not for long, though.

    It took a moment to find my voice. ¡°That is it¡­ Mr Arl said something I don¡¯t know. You maybe need to correct him tomorrow?¡± I said, trying to sound like it wasn¡¯t a big deal.

    ¡°Well, what is it he said? Can you recall?¡±

    I looked out the window, some distant hint of storm clouds, no clue if they were blowing our way. ¡°He thinks we¡¯re¡­ hesale?¡±

    A chuckle came from her. ¡°Indeed, you wouldn¡¯t have found that in my book. It is¡­ you wish for the large answer?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°It is something of interest to me, so I have somewhat researched it. In Crisoa¡ªthe southern continent¡ªa long time ago, there was much¡­ countries fighting? That is, war. After the war, the men would be given land to farm for their service, and they would have children. Sons would build houses on the farm and live there with their family too. However, only the first son would inherit the farm, so the other sons would either leave for other jobs¡ªor they would join wars for their own land.

    ¡°Of course, not every son lived. Their wives and children would be allowed to stay on the farm if she did not marry again. In the case that more than one son died, their wives often¡­ joined families? It is written that it was easier for two people to raise a large family than one person raise a small family, but I wonder if it was not pressure to take up less space¡­.¡±

    She paused there, then gave a small shoo, sort of to herself.

    ¡°In those cases, it was said the wives are hesale.¡± It hit me then, hesch being wife. That was half of it and she explained the other half. ¡°It seems to come from how a wife addresses her husband¡¯s sisters. Their children call them fan, while she will call them fanale. Hesale, then, means little wives, or wives-by-marriage.

    ¡°That was common a long time ago, but the warring period of Crisoa is old history by now. Since then, it has usually meant women of no relation who live together, often still widows, but in their old age. In more recent times, it has seemed to mean women who are in a relationship together.¡±

    So it did mean gay? Well, lesbian? My thoughts were cut off there by her, though, apparently not done with the lesson.

    ¡°There is something of a similar word for men, but that has a different history to it. Besides, we are discussing hesale, no? Honestly, I have some dissatisfaction with it. At least in the northern cities, it is common for women to live together with no relation nor relationship. They wish to avoid their parents arranging a partner for them, so they work, but it is a difficult thing to live alone¡ªisn¡¯t that right? Living with a man cannot be done, so another woman it is.

    ¡°Of course, some do have relationships, perhaps more than I think, but it is¡­ I do not like confusing two women as friends and as lovers. ¡®Hesale¡¯ doesn¡¯t help with that. That is it, even Mr Arl, otherwise sensible, has been mistaken by it.¡±

    My heart sort of clenched at that, reminded of the anxiety. Glancing over, I caught her eye and it was like she could see how I felt, a soft smile coming to her lips.

    ¡°I shall correct Mr Arl tomorrow.¡±

    It felt wrong to thank her for that, but nothing else made sense to say, so I said nothing. After a few seconds, she turned back to her book and left me with my thoughts.

 Ch. 51 Reflection

    I didn¡¯t know what Hyraj told Mr Arl, but he didn¡¯t bring up ¡°hesale¡± again. Left quickly in the mornings and didn¡¯t keep me around in the evenings. Well, that was fine. I was there to see Sisi.

    It would be another month or so before they left or started to leave or whatever. I wasn¡¯t exactly involved, so didn¡¯t ask. The last month had already felt so long. A lot had happened, people pretty complicated.

    Another week¡¯s work finished.

    Heavy rain building up through the day, I wasn¡¯t sure if we¡¯d do anything over the weekend. Normally, a bit of shopping, but that was more of an excuse to get out and walk around.

    In the morning, I awoke to the rain¡¯s gentle drumming. We weren¡¯t going out. So I busied myself in the kitchen, helping with the breakfast, helping with the tidying up and cleaning, even helping with taking stock. The cook¡ªwhose name I still hadn¡¯t learned, everyone calling her ¡°Miss Cook¡±¡ªwas very happy to find out I could read, write, and do maths.

    ¡°Five tins, and had eleven tins at month start. How many a season? A year?¡± she asked, her thoughts coming out pretty concise.

    Of course, it was hard to get over old habits, taking me a moment to remind myself of how the months and seasons and years worked here. ¡°Six a month, eighteen a season, ninety a year?¡± I said, then worked backwards in my head, making sure I was right.

    Her face scrunched up in a smile. ¡°So quick, and they don¡¯t work at the office?¡± she said, pointing at the paper.

    I awkwardly smiled, thankful I could ¡°avoid¡± her while writing.

    ¡°Call it a hundred,¡± she muttered, then turned to the cupboard. ¡°What next¡­.¡±

    Busy all morning, I only ended up going back to our room when lunch was ready. We ate in silence, then I piled up our plates, ready to take them through to wash. On my way out, she spoke.

    ¡°That is it, I am visiting a neighbouring town,¡± she said.

    I paused, turning to the window. The rain still fell; heavy, but not storming. ¡°In this weather?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t be long,¡± I said, mentally putting off the chores I had planned to do.

    But she said, ¡°No need. It is quite a walk, so I shall stay at an inn there tonight, then return tomorrow after lunch. If the weather worsens, I may stay longer. Leave the key with the receptionist if I have not returned by Monday.¡±

    I froze, mind blank. After a long second, I managed to say, ¡°Okay,¡± and left, taking the plates through. Like a zombie, I slowly washed up. Ignored any sounds from the hall.

    When I finally returned, the room was empty. She was gone. Looking around, I spotted the key on the table, and that broke me. Broke me out of my stupor, broke me down. My heart pounded, full of stupid anxiety.

    Like she had left and wasn¡¯t coming back.

    Stupid, but, as stupid as I knew I was for even thinking that, I couldn¡¯t stop the¡­ dread. Bringing me right back to when I¡¯d told her I was going to stay with Mrs Frinchen. This unhealthy attachment, not normal.

    I let out a long breath, falling onto the bed, losing all strength. People were weird and it turned out I was no exception. Full of¡­ contradictions. A clock that was painfully aware it pointed at the wrong time and couldn¡¯t do anything about it.

    What if she enjoyed being by herself so much she just didn¡¯t come back?

    Intrusive thought after intrusive thought popped in my head, taking advantage of any silence. What if something happened to her?

    Deep breath in, deep breath out, I tried to settle my pounding heart. Didn¡¯t work, but I tried.

    I should have gone to help in the kitchen to distract myself. I could have done some laundry, which would have made me too tired to worry.

    But I didn¡¯t. I stayed on the bed, soon falling in and out of dreams, painful and fleeting dreams. Those kinds of dreams that felt so realistic that, when you woke up, you spent a moment still feeling the pain before it all slipped away, leaving you empty. Minutes became hours, countless dreams passing in front of my eyes, then the dreams stopped coming.

    Lying on the bed, I felt numb. The shock of her suddenly leaving had worn off and I had run out of worrying. I turned onto my side, watching the rain. Lighter than earlier. Good, I thought, hoping Hyraj made it there safely.

    Content to stay like that, I began to think other thoughts. Thoughts of her. I wondered when she started liking me that way, why she did, what she liked about me. It felt like¡­ art. How someone could look at a painting and talk about it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

    What did she see in me that the mirror didn¡¯t show?

    I knew I, like, hated myself? I grew up in an orphanage where the adults were mostly white people, the celebrities mostly white people, the children and teachers at school mostly white people. I had to deal with people asking why I didn¡¯t have a red dot on my forehead or why I ate beef. People called me exotic, described my skin colour as caramel, ¡°joked¡± about me smelling like curry.

    How could I not hate having a ¡°heritage¡± I had no connection to? Like, even if I did date a guy with Indian roots, wouldn¡¯t his family hate me for being nothing like I was supposed to be? Or would I have to pretend to be someone I¡¯m not?

    Not that that mattered any more¡­. Even if I did meet that goddess again and she offered to send me back, I didn¡¯t want to go. A place I didn¡¯t belong. At least here, I looked like I belonged¡­.

    I hoped the little ones back at the orphanage were doing okay without me.

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    Feeling the tears start, I sat up and took a deep breath. After calming down, I went out to help with dinner, anything to distract myself. So I helped cook, helped clean, then did some washing. Worked myself to exhaustion and a little more.

    Even after sleeping half the afternoon, I slept easily. No energy left to toss and turn or think.

    Morning broke with a trickle of sunlight, rays poking through the clouds now and then, a constant drizzle making up a background hum. First thing I did was look at the chair to see if Hyraj was awake, only to feel a chill run through me as I remembered she wasn¡¯t here. At the least, that woke me up, hard to go back to sleep.

    I went through the morning the same as yesterday, helping in the kitchen. The cook told me all about the importance of keeping things clean in this season, how things liked to spoil with all the moisture and heat, and how some of the staples harvested around this time were more prone to mould than when they were harvested in other seasons. Good lessons. She never asked about my past¡ªor my future. A simple, like, trade? I helped her, she helped me.

    It was nice to feel useful and it was nice to be ¡°paid¡±. With Sisi, it was easy to look after her, but, since I was being paid, I wanted to make sure I earned it. With Hyraj¡­.

    I ate lunch in silence, still sitting on the bed. Even if she wasn¡¯t here, in my mind, that was her chair. I knew she wouldn¡¯t care, but I did. I grew up in a place that had these kinds of made-up rules that you just had to learn. That was Danielle¡¯s chair, this was Naomi¡¯s cup, Mel hated these TV presenters. Well, it was more of an issue when I was small. To a five-year-old, an angry fifteen-year-old was like a monster. When I was the fifteen-year-old, the other girls my age were just old puzzles I¡¯d long since solved, knew what words to say and rules to follow. Didn¡¯t want to be a ¡°monster¡±, so always stayed calm with the little ones.

    Losing myself in old memories, I didn¡¯t know how long had passed when someone knocked on the door. ¡°I¡¯m bringing my plate now,¡± I loudly said.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Half-way up, I froze¡ªvery much not the cook¡¯s voice. A second, then I had to stop myself from running to the door. Hand shaking, I turned the handle, so full of nervous energy I felt like I could burst.

    Standing there with a small smile, Hyraj said, ¡°Pleased to be back.¡±

    ¡°Pleased you came back,¡± I said, meaning every word so sincerely.

    I stepped out the way so she could come in, then quickly left with my plate. Honestly, I didn¡¯t know why, just an impulse to, like, run away. As if afraid my heart would pop. It had only been a day, but it was such a relief nothing had happened. Really, I was like a puppy, going crazy after its owner came back from work.

    But maybe this was okay. Remembering my time at the orphanage¡­ it was a nice change to feel so full of joy I could burst. Well, as long as I didn¡¯t actually burst.

    The little time it took me to wash my plate (and a few other things) helped me to settle down. Once the suddenness of it wore off, I felt calm. It seemed like I was quite sensitive to surprises¡ªthe good and the bad.

    Then I was back in the room and she was sitting at the table. It felt right. A pile of books joined her, four. She didn¡¯t look any different. Her little journey hadn¡¯t changed her¡ªour journey hadn¡¯t either. The same Hyraj I had met up in the mountain. All that had changed was what I knew of her¡­ and me. I¡¯d changed so much.

    Yesterday¡¯s thoughts flaring up, I wondered which me she liked.

    Busy watching her, I stayed standing by the door rather than taking my usual place on the bed, and maybe she noticed, eventually looking over with a curious look. Her expressions were more relaxed around me now, so easy to read.

    ¡°Is something upsetting?¡±

    I almost laughed, wondering how I looked that she was asking that. ¡°No.¡±

    She stared a moment longer, then turned to her new book.

    I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. ¡°That is it¡­ can I ask something?¡±

    ¡°Of course?¡± she said, a hint of confusion in her voice.

    ¡°When did you like me?¡±

    She stilled, but only for a moment, then she neatly closed the book and settled into a more relaxed position. ¡°The large answer?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Please.¡±

    After a deep breath, she began to speak, her voice soft, not much louder than a whisper, but still perfectly clear. ¡°When we met, it is not clear to me. I remember it all in vague points. At first, I thought you were funning me, pretending you couldn¡¯t speak, then you went through all that to show me maths? I was confused, but I realised you weren¡¯t funning me.¡±

    Pausing there, she turned to me with a smile I didn¡¯t recognise and added, ¡°Besides, I am weak to beauty,¡± before turning back.

    While I was left reeling, she carried on. ¡°I soon understood you were rescued by Alnaya. At least, that explained the situation. When I showed you magic, I was sure of it, how naturally you took to it, but I wouldn¡¯t force you to do it because of that.¡±

    ¡°Naturally?¡± I said, blurting out my doubt.

    She glanced over, meeting my gaze and raising an eyebrow. ¡°Have I not said that I spent my childhood learning magic? I would call myself quite an atrocious teacher, yet you can hold a spell as if it is nothing.¡±

    I froze at that, realising I had maybe misunderstood her annoyance all those times, upset with herself rather than me?

    ¡°Regardless,¡± she said, ¡°I knew then I had a¡­ duty to aid you. A duty, I told myself. A duty until that day.¡±

    I knew which day. ¡°The storm,¡± I whispered.

    Her hand made the ¡°yes¡± gesture. ¡°That is it, there are many kinds of love. There is chission, which is to see beauty in someone. There is pelmion, which is to find joy in their laughter. There is even hischt, which is to find comfort knowing they are in good health.

    ¡°Then, when it comes to preference, it is not as simple as matching certain kinds of love. Or rather, preference is about how¡­ the total of the love you have for a person is greater than the individual loves.

    ¡°I felt chission to you from the start. I soon felt comfortable around you, found pride in teaching you. I didn¡¯t¡­ I had thoughts of preferring you, but nothing I took seriously. I told myself I was simply lonely after travelling for so long.¡±

    She sort of trailed off there, pausing for a long few seconds.

    ¡°It was¡­ I felt friest with you¡ªsafe. That day. And when you said you¡­ hurt, what I felt went beyond hischt. I did not realise until afterwards, though.

    ¡°To ask me when, the day after is when I knew, but all I can say is that I preferred you the day before the storm. That is it, do not think I feel this way out of gratitude for saving me. It helped me to realise my feelings and made me confident they were good feelings to cherish, but yes, before that day¡­ I had more love for you than the total parts. While I still clung to my duty, it was no longer an obligation, but an excuse to hide my feelings.¡±

    Turning to me, she had a soft smile.

    ¡°A little as we walked, a little as we talked, a little as I ate your food, a little as I watched you eat mine. It was a journey of little steps with no roads or signs to tell me when I crossed that line until long after.¡±

    Her eyes¡ªher gaze¡ªfelt so heavy right now. Not in a bad way, but like I couldn¡¯t breathe. I glanced down. ¡°My thanks for sharing,¡± I said, speaking kind of posh out of habit after listening to her.

    ¡°My thanks for coming into my life,¡± she replied.

    Spoken like it was a passing comment and not such a beautiful thing. Really, had anyone been thankful for me being in their life before? Before I could break down, though, she had a question of her own.

    ¡°That is it, if I may, do you feel chission to me?¡±

    I clamped down on my feelings and looked her in the eye again. She was asking if I found her beautiful? I didn¡¯t really understand how chission was a kind of love, different to just beautiful.

    Well, she¡¯d asked, so I looked. Her face wasn¡¯t flawless, not like she put on foundation and concealer every morning. Her hair, while in good shape, wasn¡¯t going to compete with glossy shampoo and conditioner and straighteners (or curlers). Her eyes¡­ it was easy to forget how beautiful they were, seeing them so much. I liked looking into them.

    Still, despite only passing one-of-three ¡°tests¡±¡­ she was beautiful. More beautiful than the ¡°total of her parts¡±? Was that what chission meant?

    ¡°I guess I do,¡± I said, sort of thinking aloud.

    A smile bloomed on her lips at that, reinforcing my feeling. I had always hated whenever anyone said anything like, ¡°You¡¯d look prettier if you smiled,¡± but it was so true for Hyraj.

 Ch. 52 Looking outwards

    Amidst the dwindling drizzle, the week trundled along and so did I. Talking to Hyraj hadn¡¯t exactly revealed anything particularly amazing. Like, it didn¡¯t really sound like she was madly in love with me? She loved parts of me, but loved me more than all of them together, which meant¡­ what?

    It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d actually told me the parts she loved either. I guessed it was easier for her to see me as beautiful since there were a lot of people who looked like me here. That also meant I didn¡¯t have to worry she was interested in me because I was ¡°exotic¡± or anything weird like that. Well, I did come from another world, but she wasn¡¯t asking me about where I came from.

    Anyway, I wasn¡¯t good at thinking, this time no different. All I really managed to do was make myself more confused than when I¡¯d asked her. How she¡¯d said it¡­ there wasn¡¯t anything special. We just spent time together and she fell in love.

    And that didn¡¯t make sense, not when I was right there with her the whole time? How could she fall in love while I had thought I was annoying her with all my pestering? Like, I hadn¡¯t felt any¡­ chemistry. Sure, I was happy to have someone around, felt comfortable around her, but it wasn¡¯t like¡­ we were always getting lost in each other¡¯s eyes, leaning in for a kiss only to stop ourselves at the last moment. Those kinds of things that were always in romance movies. Even her book had similar things, like eyes meeting across the room and a burst of emotion telling them they had to meet.

    Would both worlds really lie about that?

    There were stories where the guy had to chase after the woman, but, even in those cases, it was like the woman liked him, but didn¡¯t want to? It always had corny lines like: ¡°I know you feel the same way I do,¡± and she wouldn¡¯t outright deny it either. She¡¯d say something like: ¡°We can¡¯t be together.¡± You always knew that was how she felt¡ªotherwise, it wouldn¡¯t have been a romance, would it?

    I didn¡¯t know why I thought about it so much. Whenever I had a quiet moment¡ªwalking to work, or when Sisi went to the toilet, or while washing up¡ªit kept coming back to me. I cared how people thought about me, sure, but why was I so fixated on trying to understand why Hyraj loved me?

    Part of me that I wanted to ignore, it told me that I had to understand so I could tell her she was wrong. That how she saw me was wrong, that she didn¡¯t love the real me, that I couldn¡¯t be loved. I didn¡¯t want to think that, though. Not any more. I wanted to believe I could be loved, wanted to believe her.

    Once again stuck believing opposite things.

    Luckily, spending time with Sisi kept me from going crazy. We had so much fun. Ever since the talk I had with Mr Arl, Sisi spoke more about her mum. Sisi drew pictures of how she remembered her mum looking, drew pictures ¡°for¡± her mum, the closed room now having a ¡°drawer of memories¡± from what I picked up. She sometimes went quiet, but talking about her mum mostly made her happy.

    Of course, talking about ¡°papa¡± made her happy too.

    ¡°Do you think papa will like it?¡± she asked, scowling at her scarf.

    ¡°They are going to love it,¡± I said. I still wasn¡¯t the best at speaking, but tried to match Mr Arl¡¯s level of, like, poshness when talking with Sisi.

    ¡°But I made¡­ three mistakes,¡± she said, counting on her fingers as she pointed out the spots where something had gone a bit wrong. I wasn¡¯t good enough to fix them, only noticing after she¡¯d done a few lines. Other mistakes, I¡¯d caught early enough, but even my own knitting wasn¡¯t perfect.

    Still, this wasn¡¯t about me. ¡°Know how, those spots are going to be papa¡¯s favourites,¡± I said.

    Pouting, she looked at me like she didn¡¯t believe me at all. ¡°Really?¡±

    I smiled, tapping my finger and thumb. ¡°Those spots mean Sisi made a mistake and they kept going. Papa will be so prideful seeing that, won¡¯t they? I know I am.¡±

    She perked up, very much attached to ¡°prideful¡±¡ªwhether for herself or others.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, getting back into it with renewed vigour¡­ and soon adding a fourth mistake to her list. I didn¡¯t have the heart to make her undo the line she¡¯d done before I looked over, so left her to it.

    A good way to spend the afternoon until Mr Arl returned.

    As always, she was out of her seat the moment the knock rang out. I finished my line before following her. She still always checked it was him before opening the door, so no need to worry.

    When I got there, she was babbling away, all I caught in her stream of chatter was ¡°mama¡±. Could see it in his eyes too. He usually kept his feelings to himself, a small smile the most he showed, but his smile looked so heavy right now.

    All the thoughts I¡¯d been struggling with this week surged forwards, resonating. ¡°Mr Arl, can¡ªmay I ask something¡ªif it isn¡¯t too much?¡± I said, struggling with how to phrase it. Books could only teach me so much politeness.

    ¡°Go on?¡± he said.

    A second wasn¡¯t exactly enough time for me to put together my words, especially since this was even more awkward to phrase, but I was still self-conscious about how long I was taking. ¡°That is it¡­ with their wife¡­ when did Mr Arl¡­ prefer her?¡±

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    His smile grew thinner, the hand holding Sisi pulled her tighter, and his gaze slid away from me, staring at nothing. At least he didn¡¯t get angry at my question. Seconds dragging on, I was preparing my apology when he finally gave a small chuckle.

    ¡°Prefer? What a groik word¡ªdo they know where it comes from?¡± he asked, his voice normal, but maybe a little quiet.

    I went to shake my head, remembered in time to shoo my hand.

    ¡°It is from the lunder canon, old stories told to children,¡± he said. ¡°There is one about a beloved princess who turns sixteen, which was the marriageable age back in those times. Everyone wished to marry to her, but a prince proposed first, and he was the perfect prince: handsome, generous, and calm. Seeing that, everyone else gave up because they couldn¡¯t compare to him.¡±

    Pausing there, Mr Arl looked down at Sisi and gave her a smile; like the story was really for her.

    ¡°However, another person proposed to her. He was a servant-boy of the castle, not overly handsome, wearing old clothes, and he was known to get into fights. Everyone laughed at him for proposing, asking if he had no shame. He took a look at the prince and another look at the princess, and he said, ¡®To make ma¡¯am happy, I would give up anything, even my shame.¡¯

    ¡°The crowd stopped laughing at that, and they grew shocked when the princess walked over and held out her hand, letting him kiss her palm. She looked at him and she said, ¡®The prince may look handsome to most, but I like looking at you. The prince may have money to be generous with, but I have no need of his generosity. The prince may be calm, but I remember how angry you were when the other servant-boys were saying mean things about me. The prince is certainly a good man, but I prefer you.¡¯¡±

    For some reason, Sisi giggled at that, no clue why. Children¡¯s minds worked in strange ways sometimes. As for mine, well, it was a nice story, but was that really how life worked? Weren¡¯t princesses supposed to marry princes?

    Mr Arl wasn¡¯t finished, though. ¡°That is it, I answered a question they didn¡¯t ask,¡± he said, some spring back in his voice. ¡°With my passed-wife, I loved her upon meeting. It may sound childish, but I felt such chission, then we worked together for a long time and I only found more about her to love.¡±

    I listened intently, both comforted and disheartened that it sounded more like the ¡°love¡± I thought was normal. Similar to Hyraj¡¯s, yet different, unclear to me why.

    ¡°Of course, it would be another story if she was asked. From what she told me over the years¡­ I wasn¡¯t exactly good at hiding my feelings, so she thought I was quite the nuisance, but I only spoke to her about work and tried not to bother her. At some point, I suppose I became her nuisance. When I was sent here, she decided to take a risk and ask me to propose, and the rest is¡­ this,¡± he said, one hand gesturing at the house, the other patting Sisi¡¯s head.

    Another normal love story, I thought. Very much the makings of a hit romcom. Maybe if I could talk to her¡­ but I couldn¡¯t. Even this much, really, I was being cruel to Mr Arl¡­.

    Growing self-consciousness, I thanked him sincerely and left them to their evening.

    Even with the walk back to think over what he¡¯d told me, I didn¡¯t, like, understand love any better. I didn¡¯t know why I felt like I needed to. It wasn¡¯t like it mattered to me, not like I was interested in falling in love and having a family and all that. After the orphanage, I had absolutely no desire to be a ¡°mum¡± and, honestly, thinking about being pregnant freaked me out.

    Love¡­ it sounded nice, being loved, but I didn¡¯t think I could ever deserve it. Didn¡¯t think I could love someone back. If I couldn¡¯t do that, well, how could it ever be ¡°fair¡±?

    With her new books, Hyraj left me to wallow in my own misery upon my return. Not intentionally, probably, but she turned the page so often, it seemed like she was addicted. As night fell, I ended up just watching her read. The peace and quiet was nice for me. Not like I was back at the orphanage, trying to get the not-so-little ones to do their homework.

    At some point, I drifted off, only realising when I woke up. Pushing myself up, I looked over and she was still reading. Couldn¡¯t be that late.

    After a yawn and a stretch, I got ready for bed; she didn¡¯t move at all except to turn the page. Looking at her for a moment, I smiled, then settled down on my ¡°bed¡±, the roll-up mattress thing feeling even comfier than the actual bed.

    In the morning, the sun shone bright with a bit of a chill in the air. Like summer had finally ¡°broken¡±. Well, it seemed pretty tropical here? The days didn¡¯t really feel any shorter either.

    Anyway, it felt fresh, not the usual mugginess that came with sunshine. Good weather for the ordeal that was washing clothes without a washing machine. But I helped with the cooking too. Getting ready for winter, the cook told me. She had a huge bag of nuts? We broke them up and, like, melted them on the stove, turning them into something like lard? I didn¡¯t really know what lard was¡­ margarine made from animal fat? Anyway, it ended up like a glassy butter, easy to spread, but not really melting. She didn¡¯t exactly explain why we were doing it, just that it was good for frying and, after tasting some sort of bready-pancakes, it did have a nice taste. Sort of like peanuts, but also some cinnamon?

    As busy as my morning was, I was happy to go out with Hyraj after lunch. It didn¡¯t need to be said. The weather was nice, it was the weekend, so we went for a walk. She led the way to the outskirts of the town, sort of following the river upstream.

    It reminded me of being back at the camp. The sound. I could close my eyes and remember the peaceful days spent there like it was just yesterday. Funny, though, I remembered being there with her, not alone. It had been awkward before she came along. Not easy to start fires, hard to cook anything properly. I didn¡¯t mind drinking the spring water, but her magic water was cleaner, so probably saved me from getting sick.

    Honestly, I was going crazy before she found me. Was already kind of crazy. Maybe some people could live alone just fine, but I couldn¡¯t. I grew up without ever having a moment alone. Even going to the toilet, I was used to people knocking and asking when I¡¯d be done¡ªand I never forgot to lock the door because of people who didn¡¯t knock first.

    No point thinking about those days, though.

    We ended up sitting under some trees along the riverbank. Sort of like willow trees, but also like palm trees, huge, drooping leaves instead of branches. Pretty, really. The leaves made a dome, but were thin, glowing in the sunlight when I looked up.

    Glowing¡­.

    My mind liked going off in all directions, this time heading towards a question for Hyraj: ¡°Would you¡­ teach me some more magic?¡± I whispered.

    The stream gurgled, leaves rustled, and she turned the page of her book, then slotted in her bookmark. ¡°That is it, I did not lie when calling myself an atrocious teacher?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had worse,¡± I said lightly, covering my mouth as a giggle slipped out. ¡°Don¡¯t shout at me for doing it wrong and let me go to toilet when I need to, okay?¡±

    Though it was a joke, she didn¡¯t laugh, her soft expression tensing for a moment before settling back into a smile. ¡°Okay,¡± she whispered.

    Then it really was like we were back at the camp, sitting close together as she made me go over the basics, making circles with my fingers and thumbs and squeezing them. Not really accomplishing anything, but reminding me of the lessons I¡¯d half-forgotten.

    A nice way to spend an afternoon.

 Ch. 53 Settling down

    After taking up Hyraj¡¯s Saturday with magic lessons, I tried to keep to myself on Sunday, then another week of working began. The fresh air did me some good, though. Managed to burn myself out on all that thinking.

    Love was¡­ not for me. Maybe because I¡¯d grown up without it. Maybe I was born this way. Whatever the reason, it didn¡¯t matter. Hyraj¡¯s feeling didn¡¯t even matter to me since I wasn¡¯t gay. Not, like, they did matter, but I didn¡¯t need to understand her love. I didn¡¯t need to tell her she couldn¡¯t love me. Maybe, it was okay for her to love who she thought I was. We weren¡¯t going to be more than friends.

    Not weighed down by that any more, my walk to Mr Arl¡¯s was much lighter.

    It was a fun morning with Sisi. Learning, playing. After everything I¡¯d been thinking about, it really reinforced that I loved looking after the little ones, but hated being their ¡°parent¡±.

    I couldn¡¯t love them like they deserved. Didn¡¯t know how. Like, I could comfort them, but I could only try to make them feel like they had a home. Only so much I could do as just another kid at the orphanage, so much I couldn¡¯t do. We all had to just go along with whatever happened. When new children came and left, when new staff did¡ªjust to name a couple.

    This ¡°role¡± was much better for me. I liked the challenge of making learning numbers fun a lot more than the challenge of keeping two girls from fighting or keeping everyone on schedule.

    That said, it wasn¡¯t like Sisi was perfect. She was getting better with eating, but some meals she¡¯d barely touch, sometimes needed to eat in her bedroom. Mr Arl still agreed that the important part was that she did eat. There were other times when she was difficult or grumpy or even rude.

    But those were only a small part of my time with her, most of it spent, well, however I wanted. Of course, I wasn¡¯t ever forcing her to do anything.

    Anyway, today was an easy day, lunch something she was happy to eat at the table with me and Frinnef. Afterwards, Sisi and I settled down for some knitting. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that, over the weekend, her scarf had gained a few more¡­ parts that Mr Arl would love. I chuckled to myself, then looked over mine. Honestly, it wasn¡¯t much better, my own mind wandering yesterday while I tried to keep myself busy.

    ¡°Miss Loulou?¡±

    I finished the knit and looked up at Sisi, smiling. ¡°What it is?¡±

    ¡°What is a friend like?¡± she asked, her face cutely serious. Especially now she was a healthier weight, her cheeks puffed up a little when she pouted.

    Her odd question didn¡¯t stop my humour. ¡°Why does Sisi ask?¡± I said, curious.

    ¡°Well, Papa and Big Cousin talked about Miss Loulou and Miss Hyrash, and Papa said they¡¯re only friends, not he¡­ helale.¡±

    I almost snorted, trying to keep in my laugh. You really couldn¡¯t talk about anything around young children and expect them to keep it secret. Even if you told them, there was a good chance they¡¯d share it anyway. As for what ¡°secret¡± she wasn¡¯t keeping, well, people liked to gossip. It wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d said anything bad.

    But Sisi had asked me a question and I¡¯d already made her answer mine first, so I didn¡¯t put off answering any more.

    ¡°That is it¡­ a friend is someone they like playing with,¡± I said, a bit of a struggle to think about how to explain it and translate it. It being kind of impolite to use ¡°you¡± didn¡¯t make it easier. ¡°They are nice, and kind, and it makes them happy to be with them.¡±

    Unsure how much sense I was making, I watched for Sisi¡¯s reaction. She still looked confused from before, her hands ¡°nodding¡±, and she let out a bit of a huff.

    ¡°That just sounds lovely,¡± she said.

    I almost snorted again. The way she said it¡ªdefinitely something she¡¯d picked up from Mr Arl. I wondered if he said that when Frinnef offered him a cup of tea in the evening? ¡°It is,¡± I said, smile so wide it hurt.

    She looked up at me, her expression more serious than confused now. ¡°So Miss Hyrash is Miss Loulou¡¯s friend?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    ¡°What do they play?¡± she asked, her head tilting in a cute way.

    I hesitated, but liked to be honest with kids. ¡°Well, we are adults, so we don¡¯t play much.¡±

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    ¡°Oh,¡± she muttered, her head hanging down. It was all the more sad to me given how people didn¡¯t really move their heads much when talking here, usually moving their hands instead.

    Feeling pressured by that, I blurted out, ¡°But we live together.¡±

    Her little face looked up at me, full of hope. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    She looked at me for a long moment, then frowned again, looking at her hands. ¡°Girls can live with girls? We don¡¯t have to live with boys when we grow up?¡± she half-said, half-asked.

    I winced internally, feeling like I was very much getting into tricky territory. ¡°Yes, but girls normally live with boys because they get married,¡± I said.

    She went back to pouting at that. ¡°A friend sounds better than a boy,¡± she said.

    I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell her boys could be friends too.

    After a sigh, she continued. ¡°I wish I can have a friend.¡±

    Softly smiling, I resisted the urge to pat her head. ¡°I¡¯m sure Sisi will make many friend in the city.¡±

    ¡°Miss Loulou really thinks so?¡± she asked, looking up at me with such wide eyes, melting my heart.

    ¡°I know it.¡±

    She settled down with that, if anything looking smug. Well, while she seemed mature in some ways, she was still young.

    At the end of the day, walking home, I went over that conversation, thinking of how to tell it to Hyraj. I tried not to bore her with stuff that wasn¡¯t actually interesting. Like, she didn¡¯t care if Sisi did a good job knitting. But funny things that weren¡¯t personal, those were fine, I thought.

    Just that I wasn¡¯t sure how funny it really was by the time I reached our room.

    Keeping it to myself for now, I greeted her and then went to help the cook. Kept my mind busy. I¡¯d spent too much time overthinking things recently.

    So I helped cook, then we ate dinner, trying to focus on the food in the silence. Good fritters today. I was always impressed how the cook could make vegetables into, like, a snack. No clue how healthy it actually was, though. I wasn¡¯t the best with nutrition stuff, but it did seem like a lot of flour and oil, so¡­.

    Still very tasty.

    I felt kind of ashamed for thinking I was a good cook for adding the garlic-nuts to the weird mash, the cook adding so much texture and flavour to everything. Even after all she had taught me, I could really only copy her, still picking up, well, what cooking was really about. Or maybe cooking was all about following recipes? The way she cooked, it seemed a lot more impressive. She¡¯d randomly decide we needed to cook a particular dish, then change how we did everything else to complement it, like, making something less spicy, or more acidic, or boiling it instead of frying.

    My mind drifted around, wondering if I would ever be as good as her. Dinner over, I took our plates, washed them up and some other stuff around the kitchen. The cook sat off to the side, eating after serving everyone else. My ¡°privilege¡± for helping was the first servings.

    By the time I went back to our room, seeing Hyraj sitting peacefully, book in hand, I decided not to tell her about the talk with Sisi. One thing I¡¯d learned from the orphanage, it was easy to tell people cruel things because it was the ¡°truth¡±. Hyraj didn¡¯t need to know this little anecdote. Even if it was the funniest thing in the world, I didn¡¯t want to hurt her even a tiny bit. Where the balance was, I didn¡¯t know, but this wasn¡¯t important enough to test the balance.

    That took a weight off my shoulders. No more thinking needed, so I could just settle down and knit.

    One day rolled into the next, another fun day of work, then dinner together again. A familiar routine, comfy. What wasn¡¯t so comfy was running out of wool. Sisi working so hard on knitting for her dad, I really hadn¡¯t expected to finish my scarf this soon. Maybe I was getting better at it too. Either way, my usual way to pass the time wasn¡¯t an option.

    For a while, I just stared at Hyraj, letting my thoughts wander. Old memories, new memories, mingling together, along with bits of hopes and dreams. Sisi wasn¡¯t wrong to think living with a friend was nice. I wondered if being married was like this too, always having someone around who made you smile, laugh, appreciated the little things you did, did the little things you appreciated.

    Eventually, Hyraj looked over. I smiled and she smiled back, then her eyes looked around a bit, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. ¡°That is it, you aren¡¯t knitting?¡±

    Lingering in my thoughts, I couldn¡¯t remember when we started using ¡°you¡± between us, or had we always used ¡°you¡±? With Mr Arl and Sisi, I was so conscious of using ¡°they¡±, but I didn¡¯t really know how close you had to be to use ¡°you¡±. Something you just had to learn from growing up in the language?

    Already a bit late in responding, I stopped my thinking there. ¡°No. I finished the wool,¡± I said.

    She seemed to hesitate, unusual for her, or at least unusual for me to spot it. Maybe because she wasn¡¯t so guarded around me now?

    ¡°That is it, I was thinking of our magic lessons,¡± she said, speaking a bit slower. ¡°I thought it best to teach you how to summon fire and water for those were important at the time; however, now, it would be easier to teach what is easiest, both in terms of learning and in how freely it may be practised.¡±

    Though a bit meandering, I understood what she was saying. Maybe. ¡°There¡¯s more magic?¡± I asked, then felt like an idiot considering I had seen her do that, like, lightning bolt attack?

    She hummed in response, then raised her hand. I watched as she made the familiar ring with her thumb and forefinger, watched the ring start to close up, heard a buzz¡ªprobably imagined it. Finally, a sort of glow started, getting stronger and stronger as the ring shrunk,  until it looked like there was a wriggling worm, part of a magic thread gently waving in an unfelt breeze.

    It was a white light, but in the way white light was a mix of all colours? The more I looked, the more colours I saw, like a TV with pixels, everything blending together. Probably a lot of colours there I couldn¡¯t see.

    Beautiful. I wanted to touch it, reached out, even, before catching myself.

    ¡°Do,¡± she whispered.

    So I did. Leaning over as far as I could, I still had to stretch to reach. Once I did, I felt¡­ a hum, the magic, like, resonating inside my finger. Almost ticklish. But it wasn¡¯t real, my finger going through the light like the illusion it was.

    She broke the ring and, after a moment, the light dissolved, vanishing into nothing.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± she whispered.

    Still staring at where it was, I said, ¡°Please.¡±

 Ch. 54 Progress

    For the rest of the week, Hyraj and I practised the light magic to pass the time in the evenings. Well, mostly me, Hyraj giving a bit of a lesson before reading her books, checking on me now and then.

    I wasn¡¯t really sure I was making any progress, though. It all felt¡­ as weird as before. Like my body could feel magic, but not, like, do anything with it. Same way I could feel the wind, but that didn¡¯t mean I could just make wind blow with my mind.

    Over and over, making rings with my hands, squashing them into nothing. Sometimes feeling a tingle by my bones, sometimes feeling the sort of magnetic push. Mostly, though, I just started thinking my hands looked weird, or that I needed to trim my nails.

    Of course it was frustrating. We weren¡¯t in the forest where there really was nothing else to do, not really even a need for magic here. It wasn¡¯t like knitting where, even if I messed up, I was still making something. I wasn¡¯t making progress¡ªat least, not making any progress I could see.

    However, whenever it started getting to me, I took a deep breath and remembered her telling me she wasn¡¯t a good teacher. Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong. I didn¡¯t know. What I did know was that I wanted to prove her wrong, make her proud¡ªprideful.

    It wasn¡¯t like I had anything else to do either. Honestly, I¡¯d mostly read her old book to learn the language, not really a big reader. Her taste¡­ it was a very slow, meandering story, full of longing sighs and looking at starry skies while deep in thought. Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t, like, an ¡°adult¡± book, nothing more than a few kisses happening. The love interest hardly appeared in the story too, most of it about the female lead, her family, and her group of friends (and the people she called friends with a polite smile). Not just a love story.

    Anyway, I guessed her new books were like that, their names kind of romantic, so no interest in reading them. I just spent my evenings making circles, falling in and out of thought, maybe even falling asleep at times.

    When Saturday finally arrived, it came with heavy rain. After getting through two months of the season, though, it didn¡¯t seem all that bad. Desensitised to it. A storm, but not enough of a storm to stop us going out.

    Unfortunately, as Hyraj told me after I asked: ¡°Whether or not we are willing to make the trip, I doubt the store owner would.¡±

    I deflated with a sigh. ¡°That is it, she wouldn¡¯t,¡± I mumbled, thinking of the old woman, hair grey and walking stick in hand.

    Hyraj smiled sort of apologetically. ¡°If I had thought on the matter, I could have picked up some wool on my break,¡± she said, a touch softer than normal.

    ¡°If I had thought on the matter, I would have asked you,¡± I said back, smiling.

    She chuckled, covering her mouth. I liked the sound. Liked making her laugh. She had seemed so serious for so long, but, the better I knew her, the more¡­ normal she seemed. Not so grown-up.

    We had such different childhoods, literally came from two different worlds, but there wasn¡¯t a¡­ barrier between us. I could reach out and touch her¡ªright now¡ªif I wanted to.

    And I kind of did. She¡¯d calmed down with the storms by now, but I still noticed her silently gasp when the first thunder rolled, when the first flash of lightning lit up the room. How I sometimes had to say her name a few times because she tried to lose herself in her book.

    So strong, so fragile. Like how dark colours looked all the darker on a light background. Helping her, it was ingrained into me. I wanted to hold her hand and tell her she could squeeze mine if she felt scared.

    Of course, I didn¡¯t. She wasn¡¯t a child. But the urge was still there, reminding me that, in my own way, I was more grown-up than my age.

    ¡°Did you have any chores or shall we practise?¡± she asked.

    I had so many chores to do. ¡°None,¡± I said, still smiling.

    Like I had cast a spell, she relaxed. Did I notice because she was more comfortable around me or because I was better at noticing her little changes? Well, I still didn¡¯t know. Maybe a bit of both.

    Whatever, I got what I wanted. She did so much for me, this much wasn¡¯t much at all, but it was all I could do.

    Mindful of how I was doing this to comfort her, I patted the bed next to me. ¡°It will be easier to show me if you here, right?¡± I said, trying to sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

    Whether or not she fell for it, she tapped her thumb and finger and stood up the next moment. All it took was one step. She wasn¡¯t really much taller than me, but always held herself so tall¡ªand wore thick boots. Quite tall for this world, though. Mr Arl seemed a normal height for a man and, with her shoes on, Hyraj about matched him.

    With how she liked to stride everywhere, her pace quick if she wasn¡¯t slowing down to match me, I imagined her legs must have looked pretty good. It wasn¡¯t the sort of thing books talked about, but people did. The girls at school loved it when spring rolled around and the boys were out in their shorts for sports. I didn¡¯t really see the appeal, though.

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    She sat down, jostling me out of my thoughts. The mattress wasn¡¯t exactly springy, I thought with a wry smile, remembering how fun it was to sit next to the little ones and make them fall into me for a quick hug before putting them to bed.

    Funny how these kinds of memories came back to me.

    ¡°What exactly would you like me to show you?¡± she said, soft, almost a whisper. Such a gentle voice. Honestly, if I was more shameless, I¡¯d ask her to read me one of her stories like that, so soothing.

    But I still had some shame and wasn¡¯t quite ready to lose it yet. ¡°Maybe¡­ I¡¯m not making a good circle?¡± I said, coming up with an excuse on the spot.

    ¡°Show me.¡±

    I took a breath, then carefully made a ring, touching my thumbs together and my forefingers together. Now conscious about it, I fidgeted a bit, trying to make it look rounder, not really succeeding. Giving up, I overlapped my forefingers and thumbs and started shrinking the ring.

    Again, more conscious of it, I tried to keep it as round as possible, not so much sliding my hands over each other like I usually did, but more cupping one hand with the other? The inside hand curled almost into a fist while the other wrapped around it. By the end, both hands made a ring, thumb and forefinger touching, one on top of the other.

    And I felt a buzz.

    It wasn¡¯t like before, the electric buzzing that prickled just below my skin stronger, painful. But there was only a thin line of pain¡ªlike it was a single nerve. As distracting as it was, I tried not to flinch, so close I just had to push through.

    Gathering my determination, I took a deep breath and then squeezed.

    Nothing happened. Something happened. I felt more than saw it, the nothing in my hand feeling like a bundle of vines, not exactly squirming, but moving, sliding through my hands, part of some giant fabric I couldn¡¯t see.

    Then it was gone, my hands snapping shut. I stared at where the magic had been. My heart thumped, ached, the joy I felt a moment ago now gone and that sudden plunge left me feeling empty.

    I could have stayed like that for an hour if not for Hyraj chuckling. Turning to her, not upset, I surely showed my confusion.

    She settled into a smile. ¡°That is it, my mentor told me that the reason she would put up with such spoiled brats is that they make the most wondrous expressions once they first grasp magic with their own hands. I understand what she meant now. The joy and the despair, they are rather sweet.¡±

    Hearing that, I laughed too, sure I must have made quite the expressions. After a sigh, that humour faded away. ¡°Did I¡­ do it?¡± I softly asked.

    She hummed a note. ¡°That is it, no, not as such. You¡­ accomplished the first step, which is to take hold of the magic; however, it is necessary to hold it while¡­ thinking of what you wish to do. It is like learning to use a muscle you haven¡¯t used before. I can only tell you to try and try again until your body makes the connection, then reinforce it.¡±

    That made some sense. Not that, like, I knew anything about magic, but the idea of just saying words and stuff happening was kinda weird, really. This felt more¡­ real?

    Still, I was a bit burnt out after that, not ready for another go just yet. ¡°Can¡­ many people do magic?¡±

    My distraction worked perfectly, Hyraj taking in a deep breath. ¡°Well, it would depend on what you mean by ¡®many¡¯,¡± she said, her hand on her lap gesturing along with her lecture. ¡°In much older times, it was usual for villages to have an elder who could do magic and, as the children grew up, the elder would choose two to take on as their apprentice. That wasn¡¯t to say no others could do magic, but they would usually be limited in what they could do. Perhaps they could ignite a stick or fill a cup with water, but the elder would start the bonfire in the evenings where everyone took their starters from, and they would fill the well in the mornings. If the fields needed irrigating or a night search in the forest was needed, they would help with those kinds of things too.¡±

    Her lecture continued on to the role of magic in towns and cities, going from when the continent was first settled to the more recent innovations¡ªlike the plumbing that had even spread to here. Apparently, there were water towers all over the place now, producing clean water the same way the fridge stayed cold¡ªusing new techniques of ¡°tying magic knots¡± or something. She admitted she wasn¡¯t too knowledgeable on this aspect and I wasn¡¯t exactly clever either, barely keeping up, never mind deducing how this stuff worked from her descriptions.

    By the time she finished, I felt ready to try again. Even though I was doing this to distract her from the storm, that bit of success went to my head, eager to keep going.

    Until I went back to failing.

    Loop after loop, I felt nothing squeezing them closed. The frustration felt all the worse right now. Irrational, desperate, entirely forgetting what I was doing as I just went through the motions faster and faster, like it would work if I did it enough times.

    Open, closed, open closed, the whole world shrunk down to my hands.

    Then her hand broke into my world, settling on top of mine and finally stilling me. ¡°Breathe a breath,¡± she whispered, her quiet voice so loud in my ears. Like I could feel her breath, ticklish.

    I did as she said, the haze in my head melting away, leaving behind shame. So upset with myself for acting like a child.

    ¡°Gentle,¡± she said and, before I could even process the word, her other hand came over, both her hands cupping mine, guiding them. Mind blanking, I followed her silent instructions, let her shape my hands.

    Maybe because my head was in such a weird state, I was so conscious of her touch. It felt hot, almost prickling¡ªmagic? But I only ever felt the magic in my fingers and it was like her touch ran up my arms. I didn¡¯t hate the feeling, warm, gentle, but it confused me, making me even more unready when she continued the lesson.

    ¡°Your fingers cannot break,¡± she said; it took me a moment to remember the ¡°break¡± she used was like ¡°break apart¡±.

    Still, I heard that and forgot it, entirely focused on her hands. They didn¡¯t feel smooth, but weren¡¯t as calloused as, like, the cook¡¯s. Not an entirely pampered life. Long fingers, easily able cover mine while on the outside. A¡­ strength to them, firmly holding my hands in place, but not hurting me.

    We¡¯d held hands before for one reason or another and I hadn¡¯t really noticed. But, right now, the world was our hands and her quiet voice. I didn¡¯t hate that.

    I gradually recovered my senses while making no progress with the magic. Minutes passing with the two of us side by side, her hands around mine.

    ¡°Thank you, I think I understand,¡± I said, finding my voice.

    Her hands lingered a second longer, then she let go. ¡°Of course.¡±

    Back to actually trying, I slowly went through the steps and managed to get almost as far as I did earlier. Not quite ¡°grasping¡± the magic, but feeling the tingle in my fingers, the pressure against my skin like I was holding onto something invisible. Almost there, but not quite.

    Relaxing, preparing myself for another try, I thought again it wasn¡¯t the same as when she¡¯d touched me.

 Ch. 55 What the future holds

    By Monday, the storm had lightened to a drizzle, but I had to wait until the evening for more wool, Hyraj getting some on her lunch break. It felt good to have wool again. Well, not really wool. It was made from plants. Sounded something like cotton from what Hyraj told me, but I didn¡¯t really know what cotton was like. Sort of puffy balls?

    Anyway, I had more wool, so I got back to knitting. Only for Hyraj to let out a chuckle.

    I looked up, seeing her smiling. ¡°What it is?¡± I asked, curious.

    ¡°That is it, I thought how strange it seemed to see you without your knitting the other night. Only now, thinking back, knitting has been part of your routine for only a pair of months or so.¡±

    I laughed at that. ¡°Well, I agree,¡± I said, smile lingering.

    Her gaze stayed on me for a long moment, then slid away. She turned in her seat to face her book again. ¡°Good knitting,¡± she said.

    My turn to stare a bit longer before getting started on my next piece.

    I still only knew how to knit, like, rectangles, but the cook had said she could teach me a bit more. She was preparing for the ¡°wet harvest¡±, about time for the storms to settle down. That was going to be pickling, making flour, drying out some things before putting them in a cellar. Oh did she love having a cellar, mouth pulled into such a grin when mentioning that. None of the old houses had them, she told me, that kind of thing just asking for trouble when the stormy season rolled around. But now, they knew how to make cellars that didn¡¯t flood. Just like they knew how to make safe buildings with more than one floor.

    The soft smile I had now turned empty. Later, she¡¯d said, and I didn¡¯t know if there was a later. Mr Arl would eventually leave, then¡­ what?

    I didn¡¯t want to think about it, but couldn¡¯t not think about it. Paralysed. Change was never good, not for me. At best, it ended up the same, but I still had to adjust to it. To them. My world didn¡¯t really change, just the people in it. Always in that old building.

    Maybe that was why, thinking about the future, I just wanted to stay here. Always wanted to stay in place. I could be the cook¡¯s apprentice, help her and learn until she would eventually retire and I could take over. Cooking was a lot more interesting than I¡¯d thought. One day, I hoped I could peel and chop as quick as her, could change recipes on a whim, make sure nice food.

    For now, though, I still had work to do.

    The next day, amidst the drizzle, Sisi and I shuffled along, some lunch in hand for Mr Arl. What I¡¯d noticed, Sisi really didn¡¯t like being kept indoors for long. It wasn¡¯t so much that she needed to see her dad, but that she needed to get out, the frustration of being stuck inside what made her anxious. That said, the office was the closest place we could visit.

    On the way, I ended up remembering some of what Hyraj had told me¡ªabout the elders who used magic when there was a drought. I wondered if magic could do something about floods too. Not to mention, there were water towers for all the plumbing, but what about the other end? Was the world going to be okay with constantly ¡°magicking¡± more water into it or were there places where they magicked the water away?

    My thoughts meandering, that led me to some of the things I¡¯d ¡°researched¡± in my old world. Like evaporating sea water to purify it. The cook didn¡¯t use salt, but, well, from what Hyraj said, this was still kind of a poor area? Maybe there was some in Mr Arl¡¯s kitchen¡­.

    At the office, I let Sisi have her moment. She handed over the sandwiches and Mr Arl gave her a big hug, squeezing those little giggles out of her, no care for how wet her coat was. Well, it wasn¡¯t that cold. He¡¯d dry in no time.

    On the way out, she waved the entire time, stumbling out the door.

    ¡°Careful, now,¡± I said, trying to keep the laugh out of my voice.

    She hummed, still looking behind. I let out the laugh this time.

    Back at the house, to try and keep her mind off of being stuck inside, I (attempted to) read her stories from her book. Just one book. It wasn¡¯t quite the ¡°lunder canon¡± Mr Arl had mentioned when telling me the story about the princess, but it seemed to be similar. A collection of fables. Wait, did fables have to have animal characters? Because these stories didn¡¯t, so maybe they were just fairy tales¡­.

    Whatever the case, I plodded through a couple of the stories, a bit of a struggle since it kind of had old-fashioned words. It sort of sunk in that Hyraj¡¯s book wasn¡¯t exactly a classic, the style just kind of posh.

    ¡°What does ¡®herrin¡¯ mean?¡± Sisi asked.

    I read over the sentence a couple more times. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know.¡±

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    She nodded. ¡°We can ask papa later, okay?¡±

    I held back my laugh. ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    While we were almost at the equinox, later was still very much when the sun was out, the days not really feeling any shorter. And as always, Sisi ran off to greet Mr Arl the moment he knocked on the door. I shuffled along after putting my knitting things away, in time to catch Mr Arl saying, ¡°¡ªthe old way of speaking for ¡®hern¡¯. Before that, it was ¡®her arin¡¯. Can you think what it means?¡±

    ¡°Her arin¡­ oh, is it goodnight?¡± she asked, staring straight up at him.

    He chuckled, hat over his mouth, and mussed up her hair. ¡°As clever as your mother,¡± he softly said.

    I tried to keep out of the way until then, choosing now to step out. He glanced over, then not-so-subtly put his hat back on, almost funny how often he forgot. I didn¡¯t blame him, though. After all, with Sisi in front of him, it couldn¡¯t have been easy to think about anything else.

    Some stray thoughts came to me then, flickers of memory from the day. ¡°Mr Arl?¡±

    ¡°That is it?¡± he said.

    ¡°We were reading some of her stories, and something I wonder¡­ are there¡­ many people who do magic?¡± I asked, struggling to find the words as the pressure got to me.

    His expression didn¡¯t look pleasant. I had learned a little even though he, like Hyraj, usually kept up a good mask. Or maybe he also didn¡¯t keep his mask up around me as much.

    ¡°To put it¡­ appropriately,¡± he said, patting Sisi¡¯s shoulders, ¡°these days, it is mostly the work of families with more money than kindness. Otherwise, there are some in the cities that do the real work. So, to answer your question, no, not many.¡±

    I tried not to wince, my smile so very apologetic. ¡°Ah, that it¡­ well, I shall¡­ be off,¡± I said, stumbling through my goodbye.

    ¡°Good workings,¡± he said, a bit of a laugh to his voice that reassured me I hadn¡¯t offended him. ¡°We shall see you after¡¯morrow.¡±

    ¡°Yes, after¡­ oh, the equinox, right. After¡¯morrow,¡± I said, still struggling to be polite and translate.

    My head buzzed the whole way home, feeling incredibly self-conscious and trying to translate the other part of what Mr Arl had said. Families with more money than kindness¡­. Hyraj had said her family was a big deal, that her parents expected her to become ¡°governor¡± and she honestly believed she could. It hadn¡¯t sunk in what that really meant.

    Like, by my world¡¯s standards, Hyraj¡¯s family were multi-millionaires? Maybe billionaires? Well, I didn¡¯t really know much about politics. England was, like, all old money, right? The House of Lords¡­.

    That was Hyraj, and who was I? Just some girl.

    Arriving back at the dorms, it was another day where I struggled to bring myself to knock on the door and, even once inside, I rushed to leave and help the cook. I didn¡¯t know if Hyraj noticed, going back to her book after letting me in.

    Anyway, I tried to focus on the cooking, didn¡¯t want to make a mistake. The cook trusted me with more tasks these days. Chopping, even frying¡ªnot just peeling and washing vegetables. Among her many tricks, today we were frying stale bread into sort of croutons. They were more like fingers than cubes, which made them perfect for creamy soup. Spicy croutons using an oil that was used to ¡°pickle¡±, well, not chilli peppers, but something like them, just kind of oniony with layers. So it was a spicy oil, crunchy croutons, and a creamy soup. Complementary as always.

    ¡°Ah, tomorrow is a good day,¡± she said.

    I hummed in answer, trying to focus on my frying. But it wasn¡¯t often she talked about not-food, so I quickly turned to her and asked, ¡°That is it?¡±

    She chuckled, unusual in how she didn¡¯t cover her mouth. No, she turned to the side, away from me. I didn¡¯t know if that was how she was brought up or from working in a kitchen. This wasn¡¯t, like, a medieval world¡ªthey had a pretty good idea of hygiene.

    ¡°Yes, yes, the guests are far from home,¡± she said softly, more muttering aloud than speaking to me.

    Then she waved me off, loosely gesturing back at the pan. Wok? I panicked for a second, but the batch of croutons were fine.

    ¡°The weather looks good for the equinox,¡± she said, ¡°so it is a good day. They see, they see.¡±

    Her more casual manner of speaking threw me off a bit, easy to follow when talking cooking, not so easy for other things. Still, I understood she was looking forward to it and wasn¡¯t going to ¡°spoil¡± it for me. ¡°That is it?¡±

    ¡°Tha¡¯s it,¡± she said, punctuating her statement with a heavy thump; I glanced over, seeing her opening a small barrel. ¡°Tonight, a little treat.¡±

    I wanted to watch, but was overly worried about the croutons, so just listened as she shuffled around, took out a bowl, doing something with the barrel. As she did, I strained this batch of croutons and prepared to add the next. Before I could, though, her shuffling came over to me.

    ¡°Give,¡± she said, her free hand sort of flicking at me, other hand holding the bowl.

    Confused, I moved over and she took my place.

    ¡°Here.¡± She offered up the bowl, spoon included.

    I hesitated. ¡°For me?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she said.

    ¡°To¡­ eat?¡± I asked, glancing in the bowl.

    ¡°Yes, yes, yes.¡±

    The more times she repeated something, the more irritated she was, so I stopped there and just took the bowl, saying, ¡°My thanks.¡±

    ¡°Ha, their thanks after trying it.¡±

    I swallowed my smile, always a bit fun helping her, then looked at the bowl. It had what kind of looked like gooseberries? Something seemed almost familiar about them, but, unable to remember, I gave in and just scooped one up. It was still wet, soaking in something in the barrel, and kind of¡­ jiggled?

    No point staring at it, I popped it into my mouth. At first, I almost gagged at the very unexpected saltiness, but then I chewed and it practically popped, filling my mouth with a sweet, smooth flavour. Almost milky. It soon clicked, sort of like an overly sweet tea. I smiled, remembering evenings at the orphanage, making little cups of sweet tea for the little ones. Oh they loved pretending to be grown-ups.

    ¡°Know how, tea bruises so easy, and the merchants don¡¯t want to pull along barrels of water, so they dry them out. But here, we can get some fresh and pickle them,¡± the cook said.

    ¡°It¡¯s lovely,¡± I whispered. A bridge between my past and present. A silly thought, I thought of how lovely it would be to stay here. It was a stereotype, but very much true that English people loved tea, maybe the only thing about me that was really English¡­.

    Looking over, she stared at me with a big grin. ¡°You let me know and I treat you whenever you need it, okay?¡±

    One time could have been a mistake, twice a coincidence, but her using ¡°you¡± three times like that¡ªI felt strangely happy about it. Like she was accepting me. ¡°Okay,¡± I said.

    Before she turned back to the croutons, she gestured for me to eat the rest, so I did, cherishing every tea-berry.

 Ch. 56 It all comes crashing down

    Dawn broke on the day of the equinox, muffled noise even at the early hour. I stirred, confused, not expecting people to get up for that. Back in my world, people didn¡¯t even care about the solstices. Well, there were some people who went to the Stonehenge, but that was it.

    What didn¡¯t surprise me was that Hyraj was already awake. Whether woken by the noise or normally up this early, I didn¡¯t know. While we were camping, it had been natural to sleep when the sun set and wake up when it rose, not so much these days. Maybe because I didn¡¯t exhaust myself as much, maybe because the nights were a bit longer.

    Anyway, I sat up, covering my mouth as a yawn slipped out. She looked over at me, breaking away from her book. It was quite the pretty sight. A sliver of light leaked through the curtains she had ever so slightly parted to read her book, but now that light fell on the side of her face. Glowing.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± she said, soft voice breaking through the muffled noise from outside.

    Remembering the other day, I noticed how it was similar to herrin¡ªto what I translated as goodnight. Kind of funny. Another yawn overcame me, so I answered after that. ¡°Good morning.¡±

    A moment passed in silence, then she went back to her book.

    But I had things to ask. ¡°Is there¡­ something to go see now?¡±

    She glanced back at me and, more awake now, I noticed her face wasn¡¯t as relaxed as I was used to these days. ¡°That is it, you are free to enjoy yourself today, but I am uninterested.¡±

    Spoken so carefully, like every word was delicate. Fragile. I was already sensitive to people¡¯s moods, had spent so long around her, of course I knew something was wrong. ¡°Is it¡­ you¡¯re unwell? Can I get something?¡± I asked, already getting to my feet.

    ¡°No,¡± she said, then whispered, ¡°No. This is, well, there is no need to speak around it. As this holiday happens in the middle of the stormy season, the celebrations differ from town to town. In particular, among my family, we¡­.¡±

    She trailed off there and I honestly didn¡¯t know if she would carry on. But I waited, and waited, and waited, until her free hand clenched, balling up the blanket over her lap and squeezing it with all her strength.

    ¡°It is not like I left home because I lost the love I hold for my parents. So today, it is a lonely day for me,¡± she said.

    I still found myself surprised whenever she opened up to me. At the orphanage, only the little ones did. Older girls knew better than to trust anyone. Telling someone else something like this, well, that was just asking to be ¡°teased¡±, wasn¡¯t it? Any time you annoyed them, they¡¯d just say something like, ¡°Still miss your parents?¡± Kind of why the little ones usually avoided the older girls.

    Anyway, this wasn¡¯t about them¡ªor me. ¡°That it is?¡± I said.

    Her lips curled into an ironic smile. ¡°There seems to be much to do,¡± she said, her voice warmer. ¡°Another colleague mentioned that, two years ago, Mr Arl participated in an event where the participants grappled in the mud. Go on, enjoy yourself.¡±

    Now I knew just how much she needed me to stay, speaking such nonsense. Why would I want to watch men wrestle in the mud? Well, there was probably more going on today than just that, and I was interested after hearing the cook so excited about the equinox yesterday, but this was one of the few things I could do for Hyraj.

    Be here for her.

    ¡°If everyone is out, it¡¯ll be good for laundry,¡± I said, trying to act casual about it.

    Whatever her reaction, I wasn¡¯t watching. Gave her that bit of privacy. Gathered my clothes for the day and, before she said anything, went off to wash and change.

    When I returned to the room, she had also changed. Didn¡¯t look like she¡¯d moved, though, still on the bed, reading by the morning¡¯s sunlight. Sort of threw me for a loop, unsure where to sit. At least until I remembered I was going to do laundry. But then, breakfast first, so I shuffled down to the kitchen.

    The cook chatted happily about all the amazing things that would be going on through the day. I smiled, ¡°nodding¡± along with the finger-tapping gesture.

    Maybe because of her job, she mostly listed off the foods, from freshly-squeezed tea to a fried pastry sort of things; vegetables dipped in ¡°butter¡±, then rolled in seasoning, and roasted over a fire; soups in stale bread bowls¡ªor so it sounded like? I thought to ask Hyraj about it, only to remember I shouldn¡¯t.

    Thinking about that¡­. ¡°Will cook be making lunch today?¡± I asked.

    She laughed and leant over to pat my back. ¡°Who¡¯s here to eat?¡± she asked.

    I hesitated, then said, ¡°Miss Hyraj is feeling a little unwell, so¡­.¡±

    ¡°That it is,¡± the cook said with a more sombre expression than I¡¯d ever seen her show.

    It was also a bit funny hearing her say that phrase, something I was used to hearing from Hyraj and a few times from Mr Arl, a lot more casual this time. Sort of a slow ¡°Tha¡¯t¡¯s¡±.

    ¡°How, I¡¯ll leave a couple things soaking. You can manage something, can¡¯t ya?¡± she said.

    Broken out of my thoughts, I quickly nodded with my hand. ¡°Really?¡±

    She chuckled, covering her mouth with the crook of her elbow. ¡°I wasn¡¯t much sure ¡¯bout ya at the start, but you¡¯ve got the knack,¡± she said¡ªat least, how I understood it. Rather than knack, it was the word for habit, but people used it for something you were good at because you did it everyday. Like a knack for brushing hair.

    Anyway, it was a compliment. Kind of? No, it was. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said softly, ducking my head, embarrassed at the happy smile I couldn¡¯t stop.

    ¡°Thank me? I¡¯m the one skipping out my job,¡± she said lightly, but I noticed it wasn¡¯t like her usual ¡°light¡± tone, maybe a bit embarrassed too? Probably me just hearing what I wanted to.

    We finished cooking breakfast in mostly silence, not a grand meal at all. The other people in the dorm were young, single men, and they would no doubt be stuffing themselves throughout the day. So it was just a porridge with a mild seasoning, accompanied by bitter tea¡ªmade by soaking dried berries in hot water and then straining. After trying them fresh, I wasn¡¯t sure I could go back to the dried kind.

    That was the little thought I used to distract myself while Hyraj and I ate breakfast. Despite her mood, she ate as she always did, a steady pace that saw her finish before me. I hurried for the last bit, then took our bowls through to wash. Getting a little laugh out of me, the sink was full, cook nowhere to be seen. She really had been looking forward to today.

    Though I didn¡¯t want to leave Hyraj alone for long, I washed everything up. Especially with how the cook had treated me the last day, it felt more¡­ realistic for me to work here once Mr Arl left. Maybe not in this kitchen, but she probably knew someone who might need a cook. Or a nanny. Or, honestly, I would even be a cleaner. Anything¡­ to not be a burden to Hyraj.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    My heart felt tight when thinking about Hyraj these days. Our relationship so messy. How we¡¯d met, how we¡¯d bonded, how we¡¯d lived. How she felt about me. There was nothing normal between us, which made it all the harder to understand.

    I was scared. I knew that much. Scared of relying on someone who could leave me at any time.

    Scared of hurting someone I knew cared for me.

    At the orphanage, I hadn¡¯t seen the best of families. I¡¯d seen kids who, no matter how much they were hurt, still begged to go back to their parents. I knew how ugly love could be. Now that I¡¯d stopped focusing on trying to understand Hyraj¡¯s love for me, I came to realise that the reason why I wanted to know so badly in the first place, why I wanted her to stop loving me, was because I didn¡¯t want her to be like those kids.

    After all, I was sure some love stories were like that. People who loved someone so much that, even if it hurt, they wanted to be close to their beloved. I couldn¡¯t understand feeling like that. But I knew I didn¡¯t want to hurt her by being oblivious to her love.

    Those were the thoughts that circled around my head as I numbingly focused on the chores I¡¯d neglected over the weekend.

    As they day went on, I slipped off to make lunch. A welcome distraction. Like the cook had said, there were some things left to soak, my mind coming up with a simple vegetable stew and mash to make with them. More of a soup? There was no meat, never was here, but the veggies were falling apart as I boiled them with a bit of seasoning.

    Anyway, it smelled nice and, having a taste before I served up, thought I¡¯d done a good job. Not as fancy as the cook¡¯s meals, but good. Better than the stuff I was making in the forest.

    Bringing it through to Hyraj, she gave a quiet, ¡°Thank you,¡± before eating up. Watching her and her elegance for a moment, I was reminded how she¡¯d looked the same even when eating the stuff I had just dug up and boiled.

    Reminded how she was almost like royalty.

    Really, it was¡­ crazy. Her falling for me. She still loved her parents, so wouldn¡¯t she eventually go home? What would happen to me? Even if I loved her back, even if they decided she didn¡¯t have to marry a man, how could I be good enough? Or would she really never go home, living her life like a ¡°commoner¡±?

    But that was pointless to think about. Like, I couldn¡¯t pretend to love her. Even if I wanted to stay with her, that¡­ was definitely a line I couldn¡¯t cross.

    What point was there in being just friends with me, though? Love was special, but friends weren¡¯t, right? I could offer her a bit of cooking in the forest, but, now, she could afford to eat at taverns, could easily find places to stay, meals included. She seemed happy to spend her free time reading, the only times she talked to me when I started it, asking her for help.

    Always wanting her help.

    It ate at me, feeling so useless. All I really did for her was wash her clothes. The clothes she let me borrow. The clothes she bought for me. It was kind of funny; rather than a lover, I felt more like a pet¡­.

    My bad habit came back and I spiralled in the silence, listening to the muffled crowd, soon drowned out by my pounding heart. It hurt. I felt five-years-old again, being asked where my mummy was. Alone. Unwanted. No place to call home. No place in this world. Finding a crack where I could hide, safe, filling in the hole someone else left behind. Something useful. If someone else was doing it, then it must have been necessary. It must have been important. And maybe, if I did it, I¡¯d be necessary and important too. Someone who couldn¡¯t be thrown away.

    Laughter leaked from the hallway, one of the other residents stopping by their room. But it sounded mocking to me. This irrational feeling like they were laughing at me. I knew they weren¡¯t, but that didn¡¯t stop the voice at the back of my head from whispering, ¡°What if they are?¡±

    I¡¯d long lost sight of why I¡¯d stayed in today. Hyraj sat at the table, reading, like it didn¡¯t even matter that I was here. She loved me, but didn¡¯t even glance at me. Didn¡¯t blush. I knew it was my own mood making me like this, but that didn¡¯t numb the ache. She loved me and yet acted like I meant nothing to her. I knew that was her showing me respect, but part of me felt justified in whispering that she didn¡¯t really love me. No wonder I hadn¡¯t noticed her feelings. My twisted mind couldn¡¯t come up with a reason why she would fake it, but it was sure she did. Easier to believe she was lying than she fell in love with me.

    Despite knowing I needed to stop, I couldn¡¯t move. Sat on her bed, knees to my chest, heart pounding, aching. This time, I ended up wondering why I had been given a second chance.

    Why hadn¡¯t I just died?

    Finally, silence settled in my mind. Like everything had fallen into place. All the questions I hadn¡¯t been able to answer now solved with a single solution.

    If I had just died, then at least I could have died happy. Died for a good reason. But now, now, I had to keep living, and living was so painful for me. Hollow. Broken.

    ¡°Louise?¡±

    Like a switch, hearing her say my name emptied my mind. ¡°Yes?¡± I said, almost wincing at how terrible my voice sounded. Clearing my throat, I tried again. ¡°Ah, yes?¡±

    ¡°I have been considering what to do,¡± she said, speaking in her usual slow, steady voice. ¡°Once the storms lighten, I would say we should continue travelling. Mr Arl shall be retiring at the end of the month, so it is not like he would need your help any longer, and that is when I receive my pay. Staying longer would only make things more complicated.¡±

    My nails pressed into my shins, a kind of frustration setting in as, no matter how hard I pressed, it didn¡¯t hurt, trousers taking out the sting. ¡°That it is¡­ I was thinking¡­ we could stay. The cook, she seems to¡­ warm up to me, so maybe¡­ I could work here, or she could recommend me somewhere.¡±

    Silence. I didn¡¯t know when I¡¯d looked away from her, only realising now I stared down at my knees. Every blink felt like seconds passed, unsteady, my mind in such knots that reality became distorted.

    ¡°Have you discussed this with her?¡± Hyraj softly asked.

    My silence was all the answer she needed.

    ¡°I do not mean to make the job I do sound trivial; however, it is not a job suitable for me. No job in this small drej is suitable. There is no reason for me to stay here,¡± she said.

    The pain I¡¯d inflicted on myself all day boiled in my veins, an unnatural anger overwhelming me. But I didn¡¯t scream or shout. No, I just whispered, ¡°Then go without me.¡±

    Even before I¡¯d finished saying it, I regretted it, but couldn¡¯t find the breath to apologise. Maybe because I didn¡¯t want to. Because I wanted her to leave and end the suffering she was putting me through, even though I knew I was the one torturing myself.

    Nothing made sense any more. Everything was wrong.

    Silence, painful silence. I wanted her to scream at me. I wanted to know she loved me. I wanted to be left alone. After a lifetime of feeling so little, feeling so much felt like it would kill me. I hated it.

    But I hated myself more.

    ¡°Louise.¡± A broken whisper. ¡°This part of you¡­. How you stayed up on that mountain alone, I can understand the desire to live by their own strength. However, first Mrs Frinchen, now the cook? If you are to rely on someone else, why can it not be me?¡±

    Her words hammered at my head, the growing headache painful to the point I could barely see, darkness clouding the edge of my vision. Why couldn¡¯t it be her? Because I couldn¡¯t take her place. She was too incredible, too beautiful, everything about her so much better than me that I couldn¡¯t even delude myself into thinking I could become like her, no matter how long I tried.

    But I couldn¡¯t say all that. ¡°It just can¡¯t,¡± I whispered.

    Silence for a moment, then her footsteps¡ªaway from me. I looked up to see her at the door, in the doorway. It was stupid, but I felt like, if she left, she wouldn¡¯t come back. Never mind that this was her room, that she still had her job, that, if anyone was to leave, it should have been me. Of all the irrational thoughts today, this one was the most convincing.

    And I hated myself that I couldn¡¯t bring myself to say anything as she stepped out the door. More intense than anything else, I hated myself.

    The door closed little by little, my heart clenched tight, nothing leaving my lips. It was about to click shut and still, I said nothing. Nothing.

    But then the door swung back open and she stepped inside, slamming it shut beside her. Striding over to me, she said, ¡°Love me or hate me, I cannot bare being nothing to you.¡±

    Before I could even process what she¡¯d said, she was in front of me, leaning down, and her hand guided up my chin, her nose brushed against mine. And she kissed me.

    ¡°As many as it takes,¡± she murmured, ¡°until either you kiss me back or push me away.¡±

    She carried on the kiss. A light kiss, more just rubbing her lips against mine, but, as if talented at even this, she soon found a better position, her lips now, like, hugging mine, almost ticklish with her little movements.

    But that was all it was.

    It made no sense to me. I was supposed to hate it, was supposed to push her away. But I didn¡¯t hate it. But I didn¡¯t love it either. There was no magic spark like in stories, no heat, no warmth but for her ticklish breath.

    As if she could tell, she soon broke away from the kiss, her cheek sliding against mine as she drew me into a hug.

    ¡°I am sorry,¡± she whispered. ¡°So very sorry.¡±

    Her voice¡­ I hadn¡¯t ever heard her sound so broken. It hurt. I hurt. Although I wanted to tell her it was okay, wanted to tell her I forgave her, I was scared. I needed her.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with me?¡± I whispered.

    She rubbed my back and squeezed me tight, warmth bleeding through from her body to mine. ¡°I am here,¡± she said, maybe the only thing she could think to say. How could she know what messed up thoughts I¡¯d come up with all day?

    I almost laughed, but there was no strength in me. I could have cried, but the tears wouldn¡¯t come. I was empty. I was full of pain.

    ¡°Be at peace, I am here,¡± she whispered.

    In her arms, firm, but not tight, I felt safe.

 Ch. 57 Piece by piece

    In Hyraj¡¯s arms, all I could hear was the heavy beat of my heart and her gentle breaths. Without thinking, I copied her breathing. Maybe, my heart copied hers too, slowing down to a steady rhythm.

    What did we do now? I didn¡¯t know. This wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d done before, having a fight with someone I cared about. It wasn¡¯t enough to just huff and stomp about and wake up tomorrow like nothing had happened. I hurt her, I knew, and she hurt me, and I didn¡¯t know what to say, what to do, to make everything better.

    It felt painful to force myself to not ignore it all. Like a scab, my mind kept telling me to leave it while my fingers itched to pick at it.

    But it wasn¡¯t a scab. It was a splinter, still buried inside both of us. I¡¯d hurt her. Hurt her so much she kissed me. And she kissed me. I trusted her and she kissed me.

    I could have laughed, sounding so stupid when I put it like that. But it was the truth. Even if I had liked it, that wouldn¡¯t have made it okay. Maybe things were different here, but I wasn¡¯t from here, being kissed like that not something I wanted. If I hadn¡¯t been so out of it, I definitely would have shoved her away the moment she tried.

    Hurting each other didn¡¯t make it fair, though, and would an apology be enough? I didn¡¯t know. With kids, it was enough to say sorry. They grew and learned and forgave and forgot.

    I couldn¡¯t.

    After being held by her for so long, I turned my head away, gently pushed her. It took her a moment, then she let go of me and pulled back. Her gaze tried to find mine, but I didn¡¯t look at her, not like I did before. Shuffling back, I rested against the wall, while she settled on the end of the bed, like she was respecting the distance I put between us.

    How did we fix something that couldn¡¯t be fixed?

    Well, maybe I was wrong, but I wanted to know how I had hurt her. I wanted to understand her pain¡ªso I wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake. To ask her that¡­.

    I thought I should be honest too.

    ¡°When I was¡­ five?¡± I said, trying to speak clearly, but my throat felt tight, ¡°I¡­ couldn¡¯t sleep some nights. Not sleeping is¡­ bad, so I thought the¡­ people looking after us would be mad at me for not sleeping. Then it was late, so they were sleeping, so I thought they would be mad at me for waking them up. Alone and so scared and I couldn¡¯t cry.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile, this tragic memory so childish to me now. More than being liked, it had always been about not being hated, but that meant always thinking about how people could hate me. Carving into my head: I am someone who is easily hated.

    Taking a deep breath, I settled myself, ready to get to the point with her. ¡°Sometimes¡­ I¡¯m like that again. I am scared and I¡­ think worse and worse things and, even if I know you¡¯re not mad, I still think you are.¡±

    Silence falling, she softly asked, ¡°Like today?¡±

    I nodded. Then, realising what I¡¯d done, did the tappy thing with my hand instead. She probably knew by now what nodding meant. Still, I was in this world now. ¡°I¡­. You are¡­ very special. I can¡¯t rely on you. I am scared you will leave me. Because you can¡¯t rely on me. The cook, and Mrs Frinchen, and Mr Arl¡­ I can be useful to them. They are¡­ living simple lifes. I don¡¯t want much. If I¡­ can have a simple job, live in a simple home, and live a simple life, I can be happy. But you¡ªyou want more than that, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Stopping myself there, I didn¡¯t want to put words in her mouth.

    ¡°I can follow you, maybe for a year, maybe for five years, but I know¡­ there¡¯s a day where I have to stop. It is¡­ better sooner. I think. You don¡¯t need me, so I¡­ slow you down.¡±

    My thoughts losing all sense, I said no more. Had said enough. Had hopefully said enough. Saying this much already felt so painful in a way nothing else had before. I felt so childish, so stupid, so ungrateful¡ªso easily hated. After spending so long trying to make her like me, now told her clearly why she should hate me.

    Vulnerable. I hadn¡¯t understood what that meant before, not really. It sounded so silly in books. Part of why I preferred reading about windmills and dams, these things very much real. Why would telling someone how you felt make you feel ¡°naked¡±? Why would you tell someone if it made you feel like that?

    Because, sometimes, there was someone you wanted to show your naked self. Someone you needed to show your naked self. You had to pick the scab and trust them to gently clean the wound, otherwise it would heal into another scar.

    I already had too many scars.

    Though I hadn¡¯t looked at her while speaking, I felt her gaze, saw her staring at me out the corner of my eye. Even now, she looked on with her neutral expression. Not the little smile I had come to know her for, but not her mask either.

    Then she adjusted her position, turning away, as if giving me room to look at her. She sat as elegantly as ever, even now, her hands on her lap with her fingers woven, palms down. I had tried and struggled to copy her a few times before, my wrists not quite flexible enough to do that comfortably, while she could probably sit like that for hours without a problem. And despite that, her elbows didn¡¯t stick out, her arms making gentle curves. Her knees were touching, feet slightly apart; how a lady ¡°ought¡± to sit according to her book.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°That is it,¡± she said, her voice quiet, yet firm, ¡°this kind of thing¡­ you have asked before why I prefer you. Truth spoken, I did not answer clearly at the time. This kind of thing, I could tell you a hundred little things I have noticed, a hundred moments we have shared; however, these are¡­ fleeting.

    ¡°Not only that, I could use reason. An imagination, say I was not someone so¡­ special. Would you truly believe in my love then or would you still find excuses? Which two people are ever equal in a relationship? Another line of reason. How is it that, in the time we spent together, I found so many ways in which I love you while you apparently found none to love me?¡±

    Her words left me kind of embarrassed. She had¡­ clearly put a lot of thought into this.

    ¡°As beautiful as I am, all beauty fades. As wealthy as I am, in marriage is shared.¡± She softly smiled, then said, ¡°That is a famous quote from a renowned performer of operas. She gave it when asked why she would retire so young. I always found it¡­ romantic. When she speaks of wealth, I do not imagine money, but life. Her laughter, her tears, all those things she was so renowned for on the stage, now to be shared with her partner alone¡­.¡±

    After a deep sigh, she continued.

    ¡°If you¡­ truly believe you cannot come to prefer me, then yes, it is for the best that we find you somewhere comfortable to stay. I honestly didn¡¯t think you disliked travelling, so my thanks for telling me. These kinds of things I cannot learn without being taught.¡±

    She let out a laugh, bright at first, yet quickly faded into something hollow.

    ¡°However, if you think there is a chance, if you are willing to give me a chance, I swear with the gods for witnesses, my feelings aren¡¯t something trivial. You are not the first one I have had my heart beat twice for. I am not some child, overwhelmed by new emotions.

    ¡°With you¡­ I am satisfied. When the thunder rattles and my heart aches, it is knowing you are here that settles me. When I lay in bed, knowing you will be here when I wake, I sleep thoroughly. While I may crave more, selfishly hope to have a future full of firsts, I think of the days we have spent together and wish for many more like those too, seasoned with a sprinkle of affection.¡±

    I felt at a loss, wondering if I¡¯d made a mistake listening to her. So convincing no matter what she said. What she¡¯d said¡­ was that even love? What was love? That same question again coming to haunt me.

    But she wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡°While I cannot promise to always have these same feelings, I can promise to always treat you well. Still, I truly believe that, as long as we are together, I will¡­ always have feelings for you. Which particular feelings they are may change, but my preferring shan¡¯t.¡±

    I covered my face. It hurt to have someone speak so kindly about me. It really did. I couldn¡¯t put it into words. Like hearing such an obvious lie and desperately wanting to believe it. Like a child hearing, ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be okay,¡± after being told their parents were dead. Hearing, ¡°We¡¯ll come get you as soon as your room is ready,¡± and then waiting, waiting, waiting.

    Promises meant nothing to me, but that didn¡¯t mean I felt nothing hearing them.

    The frustration came out as a laugh as I asked, ¡°How can you say it? How can you say you will treat well even when you don¡¯t like me any more?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer right away, almost making me feel proud. Like I¡¯d finally ¡°got¡± her. Like she would finally admit I was right, that this was all a mistake.

    But it wasn¡¯t going to be that easy.

    ¡°May I ask, why it is that you were kind to me when we first met?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°I just am,¡± I said, then realised that wasn¡¯t really a full answer. ¡°I want people to like me. If they like me, they¡¯ll be kind to me, or won¡¯t be mean to me.¡±

    She nodded with her hand, breaking her perfect posture. ¡°That is it, do you believe everyone shows kindness for the same reason?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Close to half,¡± I said¡ªa phrase that sort of meant ¡°more or less¡± rather than actually half. The language barrier really wasn¡¯t helping me express myself well, but at least I could understand her.

    A note of laughter left her lips. ¡°How terrible the world would be if everyone thought so,¡± she whispered, then spoke normally. ¡°What of family, then? Is a mother only kind so her children will pay her back?¡±

    It was my turn to whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    As soon as I spoke, she realised her misstep, turning to me with such sorry eyes. But she quickly caught herself, hand clenching. ¡°She does not. Family¡­ is built with little kindnesses, given freely, because her child¡¯s happiness is as if her own, doubled, while her child¡¯s sorrows shared, halved. If a mother only cared for what good her child will bring her, there would be no spoilt children, no toys, no sweets, nor books of fantasy. She would feed them like a serlut¡±¡ªthis world¡¯s horses¡ª¡°and have them work the farm as soon as they can walk and only learn to follow her orders.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t really thought of that before. As little as we¡¯d had at the orphanage, it was more than nothing. Not much more, but not nothing, and I could imagine us having less.

    ¡°Between us, I feel family. I will remember the little kindnesses you have shown me and give back little kindnesses without counting out what is owed. As I am sure, to those little ones, to Sisi, you have done before. Because I know you do love. I hear it in your voice, see it in your sad smile. That, even now when apart, you still think of them, still wish them well. And I know, if we do part, you will still think of me as I will think of you. Remembering and wishing the best.¡±

    Was that love? I¡¯d seen the kids who loved their parents, only to be left with us. They didn¡¯t go a day without bursting into tears. Compared to that, what was the odd thought I had? Usually went days without thinking about the little ones.

    While I was distracted with those thoughts, Hyraj wilted, her posture melting as her shoulders slumped forwards, head drooping down.

    ¡°At least, I hope you will. However, I know that¡­ I have unmended your trust, perhaps even broken it. I truly despise myself for that. No, that makes it sound like I am upset with losing your trust. What I did was unconscionable. I will make no excuses for it, truly regret losing my composure, and truly regret that I hurt you. For all the good I think myself to be, to think I am no better than a scoundrel when it comes to such a matter.¡±

    Pulled back to this, it took all my control to stop myself from stopping her, to stop myself from telling her it was fine, not to worry. Because she should worry. It wasn¡¯t fine.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    A single word. She froze for a second, then tensed up, then deflated with another breath, sinking so low her hands came up to hold her face, elbows on her knees. Still, I felt that urge to console her. To forgive anything and everything just to make her happy. Not because I wanted her to be happy, but because I wanted her to like me. Kissing me made her happy, so wasn¡¯t that fine? Shouldn¡¯t I let her do anything she wanted to me? Wouldn¡¯t that make me irreplaceable to her?

    What horrible thoughts. Horrible, horrible thoughts, not just for me, but for her. What kind of person would be happy with a lover who thought like that? She was better than that. Maybe I wasn¡¯t, but she was.

    Watching her, I only felt more broken. Even she had all these feelings inside her. Not just the good, but the bad. Such a silly thing to think about right now. Such an important thing.

    Right now, her pain was the proof she loved me.

 Ch. 58 Step by step

    A day like an eternity passed and, under the threat of rain, I carried my bag to Mr Arl¡¯s. My bag paid for with Hyraj¡¯s money, full of clothes Hyraj bought me. Every step heavier than the last, every breath louder, heart aching with regret.

    But I would have regretted it more if I had stayed.

    Arriving at the familiar house at an unfamiliar time, I took a deep breath. It didn¡¯t really help. Nothing would, nothing but time.

    So I kept moving forward.

    ¡°My thanks, again,¡± I softly said, resisting the urge to bow my head, instead holding my hands up in like a ¡°give up¡± gesture. It was funny how ingrained these gestures were, things that meant nothing in this world. Or well, it made me realise that, even in my world, a lot of what I thought was natural probably wasn¡¯t.

    Mr Arl chuckled, hand over his mouth, then he shooed me. ¡°I am sure their thanks will sound less sincere by morning,¡± he said, his other hand not-so-subtly patting Sisi¡¯s head.

    Looking down at her, oh, she looked so confused. Our eyes meeting, she sort of shuffled behind her dad. Shy at the unknown. ¡°What¡¯s Miss Loulou here?¡± she asked.

    The better I understood the language, the funnier I found Sisi¡¯s ¡°accent¡±, speaking quite posh, but shortening phrases and such.

    ¡°They are¡­ having a sleep-night here,¡± he said.

    She looked up at me again, then something seemed to click into place and she stepped over to grab my hand. ¡°Really?¡±

    I lowered myself down, smiling. ¡°Really.¡±

    She burst into a grin, all giggly, and tried to tug me away only for Mr Arl to pick her up, hands under her armpits. Even without tickling her, she wriggled and giggled, making an unserious attempt to pry off his fingers.

    ¡°Papa!¡± she shouted through her laughter.

    He laughed back, hoisting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, one hand on top to keep her steady while his other arm locked her legs still. ¡°Miss Louise has her luggage to put away and Little Miss Sisi has promised to bathe.¡±

    As if this had all been part of her now-foiled plan, she went limp, no longer struggling. ¡°But Papa¡­.¡±

    That whiny tone, one I heard so rarely from her, it tugged at my heart and my mouth moved before I¡¯d even thought. ¡°I could help bathe her¡ªif that is fine?¡±

    Yes, only after offering did I realise that, in this world, maybe that wasn¡¯t the sort of thing to offer.

    As I started to overthink things, though, Mr Arl gave the biggest laugh so far. ¡°I dare say their offer will sound less sincere afterwards.¡± Then, in a softer voice, he said to Sisi, ¡°Well? Should Miss Louise help bathe?¡±

    Just like that, the defeated Sisi was revived. ¡°Yesh!¡± she said, wriggling so much I was worried she¡¯d fall off¡ªbut Mr Arl¡¯s hold on her was firm. I remembered what Hyraj had said, that he¡¯d wrestled at the equinox festival a couple years ago. Had he always been a bit athletic? Did he start after Sisi was born, wanting to be a strong father? Was it his natural strength as a man?

    Well, it was natural for women, at least in these days. Natural to become strong enough to wash laundry, carry pots and buckets of water, stirring for hours, and then along came a baby, not too heavy at the start, but always getting a little heavier every day.

    Putting Sisi down, he said to her, ¡°Show Miss Louise her room and collect your lefsonsa.¡±

    ¡°Yes, papa!¡± she said, taking my hand and tugging me along.

    A wave from Mr Arl, then we were gone. As bubbly as Sisi was, it was the end of the day and, before I¡¯d left earlier, she was already slowing down, now going upstairs at a calmer pace than usual¡ªnot to mention quieter. Still, she dutifully guided me to what had been Mr Arl¡¯s room until today; the main bedroom¡¯s door no longer had the white cloth over the handle.

    I felt a bit bad about that, but only for a moment, Sisi urging me inside. ¡°Papa and we took all the old stuff out,¡± she said.

    ¡°Really? Good girl,¡± I said, giving her a smile before looking around. The room certainly did look empty, but I hadn¡¯t been in before. A bed with folded linen and a blanket on top, then a side table and a chest of drawers. Not much different to my room with Hyraj¡­ but different. Maybe the room Sisi was supposed to move to when her little sibling came along.

    No point making myself sad with what-ifs.

    I settled in, but didn¡¯t settle down, just put my bag down for now and took out fresh clothes. The thing about bathing young children was that water had a magic ability to soak you regardless of how much you¡¯d rather it didn¡¯t.

    Back in the hall, I found Sisi waiting for me with her lefsonsa¡ªpyjamas. A bundle of something that looked like thick linen. ¡°Shall we?¡± I asked.

    She stared at my clothes, folded over my arm, then grabbed my hand and led the way once more.

    Downstairs, it wasn¡¯t my first time going into the bathroom. Was my first time using the shower. We didn¡¯t play outside as much as I¡¯d like to, not wanting to give the ¡°family¡± a bunch of washing to do in this muddy weather, so hadn¡¯t needed to wash Sisi before.

    ¡°This is the tap,¡± Sisi said with a very serious tone. ¡°Don¡¯t turn it until Miss Loulou is ready.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I understand,¡± I said, couldn¡¯t help but smile.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Once she had shown me everything, she started stripping down. Her pyjamas, old clothes, and towel went into a cupboard to stay dry. Much like the dorm, there wasn¡¯t a bath, the whole room like a shower stall, a bit of a slope towards the one wall where a drain was. Unlike the dorm, the toilet was in here too. A small mat by the door to wipe your feet if you had the misfortune of needing to go after someone showered. Well, from my own experience, it wasn¡¯t too messy if you were careful. From what I was sure I was going to learn soon, I doubted Sisi was careful.

    While I added my clothes to the cupboard, Sisi took out her ¡°bathing bucket¡±. A small, metal tub, which had some kind of soap and a scrubbing block? Watching her, it was actually two wooden blocks with a hinge and she wrapped a cloth around it, then closed it to hold the cloth in place.

    Again with a serious tone and expression, Sisi turned to look at me. ¡°Papa fills the bucket, then rubs some soap in, then scrubs me with this.¡±

    I nodded with my hand. ¡°What about your hair?¡± I asked.

    She didn¡¯t exactly flinch, but definitely winced, trying not to look over where the bucket had been. So I looked there and noticed a ¡°comb¡±. It was like Hyraj¡¯s, kind of just metal nails stuck in wood, but better made. Or rather, it looked nicer while Hyraj¡¯s was like a travel comb that could cope with being thrown into a backpack.

    ¡°We have to do it, but I¡¯ll be gentle, okay?¡± I softly said.

    She bit her lip, then weakly nodded with her hand.

    ¡°Good girl.¡±

    Everything arranged, we started and I was very thankful that Sisi didn¡¯t actually shower yet. Wiping her down with the soapy cloth was much less, well, wet. Though she sat nice and still for me, that didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t make things awkward for me.

    ¡°Miss Loulou?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Miss Sisi?¡± I asked.

    She giggled, but it trailed off quickly. ¡°That is it, why is they here and not with Miss Hyrash?¡± she whispered¡ªlike it was something she wasn¡¯t supposed to ask. She¡¯d looked surprised to see me earlier, so I doubted Mr Arl had told her not to ask.

    Whatever the reason for her whispering, she¡¯d asked, so I wanted to answer. Of course, I wasn¡¯t going to tell her it was because Hyraj kissed me.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said, ¡°I was sad, and Miss Hyraj was sad, so we said some things that¡­ weren¡¯t nice.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± After a long second of silence, she said, ¡°Are they¡­ not friends now?¡±

    I smiled to myself, not a happy smile. ¡°We said ¡®my sorry¡¯ and we are still friends.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Another second of silence, then she asked, ¡°Why are they not staying with them?¡±

    So many questions¡­. ¡°Mm, Miss Hyraj did something that made me sad, so I wanted to stay somewhere else for a little bit.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    I counted the seconds this time¡ªtwo, three¡ªand let out a sigh of relief when I reached ten.

    Another thankful thing, I didn¡¯t get too wet from the rest of ¡°bathing¡± time. Wiped her down, rinsed her with water, then bundled her up in her towel, laughing along to her giggles, ticklish as I helped dry her. Before she dressed, I gently brushed out her hair. Though her hair looked better these days, how tense she sat, I guessed Mr Arl wasn¡¯t great at brushing, but I was sure he was trying. Whatever the case, she relaxed once she realised I wasn¡¯t tugging on her knots.

    After that, she dressed and I sent her out. For a moment, I just stared at the closed door, softly smiling. It was kind of funny how everyone had their own lives. She probably had sat better for me, but still, Mr Arl thought she was difficult?

    A shiver ran through me. No point hanging around in damp clothes, I changed my trousers, shirt dry enough. Pretty glad women could wear trousers here. Not many did in town, but there were a few and no one had made an issue out of me or Hyraj not wearing dresses.

    Idle thoughts to keep my mind busy.

    Once I changed and dropped off my clothes in the room, I joined everyone in the lounge. It was a bit funny staying somewhere with rooms¡ªplural¡ªagain. Somewhere with actual seats, settling onto the couch next to Frinnef while Sisi sat on the arm of Mr Arl¡¯s chair, snuggled up with him as he read a book. Not aloud, looking like a ¡°proper¡± book, but Sisi wasn¡¯t really awake, her eyes half-closed, just happy to sit there and fiddle with his collar.

    Honestly, it seemed childish. She was small for her age, at least from what I was used to, but she was still six. Maybe this was normal for here. Maybe, well, maybe it was normal in my old world too, I just didn¡¯t know how children were with families.

    How little I knew¡­.

    Closing his book, Mr Arl gave Sisi¡¯s head a pat, then looked over at me. ¡°Trouble, was she?¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± I said, smiling.

    He chuckled, hand over his mouth. Before he could say anything else, Sisi gave a big yawn, her whole body stretching with it. Another chuckle from him, his hand coming down after to show a gentle smile.

    ¡°Ready for sleeps?¡± he whispered.

    She made a sleepy noise of disagreement.

    Without thinking, I said, ¡°What if I ta¡ªput Miss Sisi to bed?¡± Both might have been right in English, but here you could put someone to bed or take someone from bed.

    Mr Arl gave me a wry smile, then leaned in close to Sisi, finding her face as she buried it into his shoulder. ¡°What does Sisi think?¡±

    Sisi hummed again, then found a burst of energy, rolling onto Mr Arl¡¯s lap before sliding down onto the floor with a giggle. Her sleepiness returned when she stood up, though, holding onto his knee to steady herself, other hand rubbing her eye.

    I held out my hand and, this time, she let me lead the way. She must have been exhausted. With a smile, I thought it was no wonder Mr Arl thought so highly of me if she was this tired after spending the day with me.

    Or maybe not.

    Well, we brushed her teeth, then went up to her room. She was so cute in her pyjamas. Like, two sizes too big, but rolled up so she didn¡¯t trip. Plain linen, but not scratchy like I expected, so maybe blended, maybe broken in? Or maybe I was confusing my world¡¯s pure linen that I had read about and this like-linen cloth.

    Focusing on the task, I whispered, ¡°What does papa do next?¡±

    She hummed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket by her face. So cute. Just her little face poking out, cheeks red, eyes fluttering. ¡°Papa tells a story,¡± she mumbled. I honestly was more guessing than hearing, picking out the word ¡°story¡± and working from there.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, then took in a deep breath before rattling off the story of the tortoise and the hare. After seeing her book of ¡°fairy tales¡±, the stuff from my world was maybe a bit¡­ violent? Even the watered down versions made into movies. Maybe because of her age, Mr Arl only bought her a book of fables. Whatever the reason, I went with a fable to ¡°match¡±.

    Although I dragged out the story with some additions of my own, she didn¡¯t fall asleep, and I soon noticed she was getting a bit tense. It was easy to see myself in her right now. Hard not to. Sensitive to children¡¯s moods.

    I wrapped up the story, then stroked her head a few times. Seeing she wasn¡¯t settling, I whispered, ¡°Should I get papa?¡±

    She hesitated, then nodded with her hand.

    I smiled. ¡°I¡¯m very prou¡ªprideful of Sisi. It¡¯s good to try something new, and it¡¯s okay to decide they like it better the old way.¡±

    Her gaze that had been avoiding me now drifted over. ¡°Really?¡± she whispered.

    I stroked her head again. ¡°Really,¡± I whispered back.

    With that said, I left to go get Mr Arl for her¡ªleaving the door open on the way out. A kind of necessary habit. Nothing upset kids liked closed or locked doors, especially if they were already unsettled.

    Downstairs, it was just Mr Arl, Frinnef already gone, and he readily understood, going up to see Sisi. No reason for me to hang around the lounge alone, I readied for bed.

    Once I finally lay down, though, I only had my thoughts for company.

    Rain pitter-pattered against the window, distant rumbles. I hoped Hyraj was okay. Remembered how guilty she¡¯d looked when I mentioned staying elsewhere, how pained her smile was when she sent me off. How, despite all that, she asked Mr Arl if I could stay, while I had just planned to stay at the inn with my babysitting money.

    The rain fell, and I fell asleep thinking of her.

 Ch. 59 Mirror

    I woke up somewhere different. Softer, warmer, my arms and feet outside of the blanket¡ªno, a duvet. Head sunk into the pillow. The dream I¡¯d been so lost in a moment ago melted into a puddle, leaving only the scent of feelings. An echo of something I couldn¡¯t grasp.

    Then a panic set in, knowing how long it had taken me to fall asleep, how comfortable the bed was, and how not-dark the light behind the curtains was.

    I scrambled out of bed and dressed, looking for Hyraj for a moment before I snapped out of it. As much as I wanted to run downstairs, it wouldn¡¯t have been a good look, so I took a few breaths in front of the door, then stepped out. My heart still hammered away, but I softly smiled and walked calmly, plodding downstairs.

    It all sounded quiet. Too quiet. Sisi usually quieted down by the end of the days, but first thing in the morning?

    After checking the dining room, I poked my head into the lounge only to see just Frinnef there. She sat on the couch, legs curled under herself, book in hand, glasses on the tip of her nose. I hadn¡¯t seen her with glasses before, but hadn¡¯t seen her read either.

    Unsure what to do, I took a step forward and the door creaked¡­ and she jumped. Literally launched herself a bit in the air, glasses slipping off, letting out a breathless gasp so loud I heard it. Then she scrambled to catch her glasses, holding them with both hands against her chest as she took in and let out deep breaths. A nervous giggle slipped out of her then.

    ¡°My sorry?¡± I weakly said.

    She shooed me. ¡°Really, they get so used to one thing¡ªI completely forgot Miss Louise was here.¡±

    I hesitated over what to say to that and ended up on just asking what I wanted to. ¡°That is it, is Sisi¡­.¡±

    While I struggled how to finish the sentence, Frinnef took my pause as an invitation to answer. ¡°Uncle¡ªMr Arl takes Sisi out most weekends, so I usually, well¡­.¡± Stopping there, she gestured at herself and the couch.

    ¡°Oh, that is it, yes,¡± I muttered, only now realising that it was the weekend, so it wasn¡¯t like I had work anyway. First thing in the morning wasn¡¯t exactly a time known for making good decisions.

    Anyway, the pressure off, I sort of shuffled back, mumbling about brushing my teeth. In no rush, I went about my morning routine. It all felt a bit strange doing it somewhere other than the dorm. Maybe the strangest, there was a mirror above the sink, seeing ¡°myself¡± for the first time in so long. Not a proper mirror like I knew it, but polished metal? Good enough to see myself, tinged with the metal¡¯s colour, a slight curve to the metal making me doubt it was entirely accurate.

    Still, that was me. The me that Hyraj loved. Thoughts wandering, I focused on brushing my teeth.

    Once I finished up, I left and almost ran into Frinnef, not expecting her in the hallway. She let out a breath of laughter, smiling. ¡°I was going to make some breakfast¡ªwould Miss Louise like some?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Let me help,¡± I said, then added, ¡°And Louise is fine. Really, I aren¡¯t that older.¡±

    Cringing, I knew I¡¯d really messed that up, but she just chuckled, one hand covering her mouth as the other ¡°nodded¡±. ¡°Only if Louise would call me Neffie. My family likes to call me Frinnie, while my friends call me Neffie.¡±

    ¡°Neffie it is,¡± I said, glad to gloss over my disasterous speaking.

    Though I said I¡¯d help, it was nothing complicated enough to need help with. The exact situation with Frinnef¡ªNeffie¡ªstaying here, I didn¡¯t really know. She was studying, she was helping out. Her cooking was good, but not the¡­ balanced kinds of meals I was used to. Like, she¡¯d have something savoury as the main meal, then have boiled vegetables for the side; the cook, I thought, would have maybe roasted the vegetables to make them sweeter.

    Anyway, this morning was a porridge sweetened with berries. I was very helpful and washed the berries. Joking aside, it was nice to talk with her for a change. For as long as I¡¯d been working in this house, we hadn¡¯t really talked; she was usually in her room or cooking, so I didn¡¯t want to bother her¡ªor let Sisi bother her. A bit of chat over lunch, but mostly eating.

    ¡°The studying?¡± I said awkwardly, hoping I had the right word.

    ¡°What about it?¡±

    Relieved, I asked, ¡°How is it going? Is it something they like?¡±

    She hummed for a second, stirring the porridge. ¡°Truth-spoken, not really, but¡­.¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I waited patiently, checking over the berries for signs of bugs or anything else not nice to eat. Something I¡¯d long grown used to in this world.

    ¡°My mother has threatened to match me up and I don¡¯t doubt her. Rather than find a partner, I hope to make enough to move far away,¡± she said, then turned to me with a pinching gesture in front of her lips¡ªlike this world¡¯s ¡°it¡¯s a secret¡± gesture. ¡°Uncle Arl knows I am¡­ dis-happy with my mother, but not that I plan to leave.¡±

    I copied her, making the same gesture. ¡°That, I can understand that sort of thing,¡± I said.

    She smiled, only to wince the next moment. ¡°Oh, um, my sorry¡ªLouise is a no-parents, how thoughtless of me.¡±

    Softly laughing, I shooed her. ¡°Talk if they want to. I have always been this way, so I¡¯m not¡­ sore about it,¡± I said, struggling with how to say what I wanted.

    Though she looked guilty for a little longer, she settled back into the conversation. ¡°I think Uncle Arl would understand too. He is¡­ too good to me. My mother sent me here to ¡®practise¡¯, but he even tells me off if I spend too long cooking,¡± she said, ending with a gentle laugh.

    A beautiful laugh. I had spent so much of my life trying to make the little ones smile and laugh, but it was nice when older girls did too. Hyraj¡¯s little smiles, her little laughs¡­.

    Falling into those thoughts, I caught myself, came up with something else to ask. ¡°Neffie isn¡¯t¡­ looking for a partner?¡±

    She hummed for a moment before answering. ¡°That is it, not that I don¡¯t want one, but I¡¯m not interested in becoming a mother. I don¡¯t dare say that, of course. How¡­ everyone just hands me babies, teasing me it will be my turn soon¡­.¡± She let out a small laugh, hollow, but warm. ¡°When I visited after Sisi was birthed, Aunty asked me if I wanted to hold her and, when I said no, she gave me a smile and whispered that she didn¡¯t want to let go of Sisi either.¡±

    Her voice almost broke at the end, next breath heavy.

    ¡°What were we even talking about?¡± she said, forcing some cheer into the words.

    Maybe it was bad of me, like taking advantage of her when she was still weak, but I thought over what she¡¯d said before and couldn¡¯t fight the urge to ask it. ¡°If they want a lover and no children, what about a woman?¡±

    Her stirring stopped, a beat passing, then she carried on. ¡°I suppose if the feeling is there,¡± she muttered more to herself than me. ¡°Well, it would be nice to live with a friend¡ªis it not?¡± she said, turning to give me a sort of knowing smile?

    I sort of asked for that. ¡°Hyraj and me are only friends,¡± I said, focusing on the berries again.

    Her gentle laughter was the only comment she made on that.

    Still, I wanted to ask her more. ¡°That is it, how would they know the feeling?¡± I said.

    ¡°Love? Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Neffie has¡­ been in love before?¡±

    She giggled, sounding so young, making me feel foolish. ¡°No, but so what? Everyone has their own feeling. If I find someone that makes me feel happy, and feel safe, and feel beautiful, then I¡¯ll call that love.¡±

    Was it that simple?

    Our conversation became less philosophical after that, Neffie praising me for looking after Sisi so well, and me awkwardly talking around the praise. ¡°I can work hard because it¡¯s only work. That is it, a mother is a mother all day, but I¡¯m a babysitter for half a day.¡±

    ¡°Still, she is much happier than when I looked after her,¡± Neffie replied, smiling.

    Meandering from topic to topic, we finished preparing breakfast, moved to the dining room to eat. A quiet meal, reminding me that it was apparently a kind of posh thing to not talk too much while eating. A nice meal, though.

    Going through to wash up, I said, ¡°Mr Arl doesn¡¯t let them cook long, but Neffie is a good cook.¡±

    She giggled, shooing me over her shoulder as she kept walking. ¡°My mother has made sure I¡¯m ready to be the perfect wife. Truth spoken, I don¡¯t mind the cooking lessons. Sewing, though, is beyond me. Too fiddly.¡±

    We talked a while longer, passing the time as we scrubbed and dried, carrying on into the lounge, settled on the couch. It was nice, almost familiar. Not like I hated the older girls at the orphanage. Sometimes listened to them vent, lots in common.

    But it was also nice having someone so positive around. Hyraj was sweet, but sweet in her own way, not really chatty. Even when Neffie was venting, she always looked on the bright side.

    An intrusive thought wondered if I loved Neffie. Because this was nice, and it was nice cooking together, and wouldn¡¯t it be nice if we lived together? If I went with her when she ran away, it would probably keep Mr Arl from worrying about her.

    I wondered what Hyraj would do if I told her that. Would she kiss me again? My heart pounded, but my head knew she wouldn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t leave because I thought she¡¯d kiss me again over every little thing. It had been¡­ a terrible day¡ªfor both of us. And I¡¯d been so terrible to her.

    Still, I had needed to leave because of that. For a few days. Longer, if I could manage. I needed some respect for myself. Honestly, I was surprised I still had any. There was nothing good about me. Nothing special. Even when she¡¯d kissed me, I had felt nothing.

    Because I was broken.

    Learning about childhood development and all that, I remembered there was a horrifying ¡°study¡± where they tried not showing emotion when raising babies, like being raised by robots. They had to stop it because it was breaking the babies.

    I didn¡¯t know what my life was like as a baby. The orphanage only took in kids old enough to go to school, so like five at the youngest. Since then¡­.

    What? What did that make me? I had always thought I was better than the others, but I was just broken. It wasn¡¯t normal for a child to try and avoid all attention. It wasn¡¯t¡­ I wasn¡¯t¡­.

    Rain drummed against the bedroom window; if anyone could see me looking out of it, the glass with droplets running down it would have hidden my tears.

    Punished, always punished, one way or another, for reaching out, and even now, after I finally found someone, it couldn¡¯t be simple. We couldn¡¯t just be friends who lived happily together forever. She wanted more, and I didn¡¯t have more. Empty. Hollow.

    Neffie had said¡­ someone that made her happy, who made her feel safe and beautiful¡ªshe¡¯d call that love.

    I didn¡¯t know about happy, but Hyraj made me feel comfortable. Safe? I guessed she did. Beautiful¡­.

    The rain fell, not too heavy, and I watched it.

 Ch. 60 Am I satisfied?

    Not the most amazing revelation, weekends were two days long. So I woke up, rolled onto my side, stared at the wall for a moment, then rolled back onto my back. A hollow thump in my chest.

    If I didn¡¯t think Neffie might have been waiting for me to have breakfast, I could have stayed there all day. There was something nice about just lying in bed. Something numb. Something I hadn¡¯t been able to appreciate before. Like time was paused, but also passing. Nothing happened and it felt like, if I wasn¡¯t careful, the day would end with nothing happening.

    But I didn¡¯t want Neffie to wait.

    Much like the day before, it was too quiet when I went downstairs, and then it was more like yesterday, chatting a bit as we cooked and after we ate. Then I went back to my room until lunch, feeling like I should really knit, but unable to bring myself to pick up my needles and yarn. Not because Hyraj bought them for me, one of the things I¡¯d actually spent my money on. It was just¡­ I was still practising to knit things for her. Wanted to see if I could make¡­ what were they called? The silly pyjama thing that was like a long jumper with a hood? I didn¡¯t know how cold it would get, but I wanted her to stay warm while reading.

    With all the free time I now had, the only other thing I had thought to do was practise magic¡­ but even that¡­. I could remember her voice. Never angry or upset, at least not with me, all her frustrations with herself¡­. Always trying to live up to some standard I couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine¡­. Her parents wanting her to be ¡°president¡±? To get married and have a kid, and why? So they could boast to their friends about it?

    I¡¯d never asked her why they wanted her to do it¡­. Maybe would never get the chance¡­.

    My thoughts had already struggled to stay on topic, not like I¡¯d ever had much time to myself to think about things. It was always preparing for tomorrow. Start thinking about what homework I had, then oh, Hatty needed to wash her uniform.

    Today, though, my thoughts were even worse, barely making it halfway before it was too painful to continue. Well, not painful? Just that¡­ I knew what finishing the thought would do to me, my face ready to scrunch up, tears ready to fall.

    Still, I pulled myself together for the evening. Neffie had said about Mr Arl ¡°telling her off¡± for spending too long cooking, so I had suggested I could help out, cook something a bit special for a change. Helped get me out my room too. She was excited about it.

    Really, it was nice. Talking about cooking, sharing some of what I¡¯d learned, having someone I could ask questions without feeling like I was getting in the way. That said, we still didn¡¯t make anything fancy. Hard to do that without going out to buy fancy ingredients.

    Simple, but special.

    Hichkle covered in flour and fried, crispy and oily, paired with some hichjalt roasted until it glazed, soft and sweet, along with ousickle, lightly-fried in a wok with the basic spices Mr Arl stocked. Those were mostly my contribution, while Neffie worked on sauces and a lal soup side-dish, but we still helped each other as we went.

    ¡°Lal was Aunty¡¯s favourite, truth spoken,¡± Neffie said, straining out the lumps.

    ¡°Is it that?¡± I said¡ªstill a struggle to know when to say it like that or ¡°that is it¡±.

    She hummed. ¡°They like it in the north, my mother says. Add it to everything. A sandwich, a stew, a roast, with vegetables or grain, hot or cold.¡± She paused there, chuckling. ¡°When I visited, I remember Mr Arl left the room when Aunty ate lal. My mother can¡¯t spare the smell of it either.¡±

    My heart ached. ¡°Look at them now,¡± I whispered.

    Neffie chuckled, covering her mouth, then shooed me off. ¡°This is mild lal, like it has been half-mixed with water. Aunty¡¯s lal made my eyes water just from the smell. But it was very tasty. Give me a spoon and I could have eaten it, just like that.¡±

    ¡°That is it,¡± I said, confident this was the right one to say now.

    Honestly, I still didn¡¯t know exactly what lal was. It had seemed like Marmite at first, but seeing her strain lumps out now made me, well, less sure¡­ not that I even knew what Marmite was made of.

    It was an interesting evening. Mr Arl and Sisi returned¡ªand Neffie hid behind me, saying, ¡°Louise cooked most of it!¡± Watching Sisi try the fried hichkle with each of the sauces, face scrunching up in a different way every time. Mr Arl taking me aside for a moment, telling me, ¡°They don¡¯t have to work so hard.¡±

    And I went along with it, but knew he was wrong. I had to work so hard to be loved. All around me, in their own ways, there were layers and layers of love, woven together so tightly. How much they cared about each other, how many little things they kept in mind, so many stories to tell. Strings of love, looped around each other, making a knitted fabric that wouldn¡¯t come loose from a bit of tugging.

    Compared to them, I was just a stitch. A bit of thread that looked pretty now, but that would soon come loose, unravel, slip out of their lives forever. Perhaps they would meet another Louise one day and think of me, hoping I was well. But they wouldn¡¯t have the same kinds of warm stories to tell, softly smiling, tenderness in their voices.

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    I smiled and I laughed and I helped Sisi get ready for bed before leaving the rest to Mr Arl. I shared giggles and whispered with Neffie, talking about how well the dinner went, swapping promises of teaching the other.

    Then I went to my room and closed the door, and I didn¡¯t smile. My lips were curved up, cheeks puffed out, but no one who saw it would have called it a smile. There was no one to see it. Just me, alone in the room¡ªlike I had always wanted. No one to wake up me up in the night, no worry about my things being taken. I didn¡¯t have to force a smile and speak softly and ignore any burst of frustration that threatened to come out.

    I changed into the pyjamas Hyraj bought me, snuggled into the bed that was more comfortable than anything I¡¯d slept on since coming to this world months ago. But there wasn¡¯t the exhaustion that made it easy to sleep. No chance today to tire myself out, no washing to do or Sisi to entertain.

    There was just me and my thoughts. Me and one thought. Because, everything that was happening, everything with Hyraj, went back to one question.

    ¡°Am I satisfied?¡±

    It hadn¡¯t felt real back then, still felt unreal now. I was in another world. A fantastical world I had barely scratched the surface of. There was magic, weird animals, strange plants. A place not quite like the past, but maybe not too different. Well, the most amazing part for me was I didn¡¯t standing out. That, when people saw me and Hyraj, they stared at her like she was the weird one.

    But still¡­ why me? Look at how little I¡¯d done, what a mess I¡¯d made of everything, definitely people who would have accomplished such amazing things. Rather than know how to make a wind turbine, I only kind of knew how old windmills worked. A car engine was as much like magic as what Hyraj could do.

    The goddess¡­ how had she sounded? Did she pity me? Was this supposed to make up for my last life? Well, bad news for her, I was going to keep making bad decisions. I couldn¡¯t help it. I¡¯d seen it, seen the cycles, broken children growing into broken adults. Just because I looked ¡°normal¡± on the outside, just because I was quiet and polite and helpful, didn¡¯t mean I was any less broken than them. Maybe I was more broken.

    What was the fancy quote¡­ ¡°Is it better to have loved and lost, than have never loved at all?¡± Well, I had my own: ¡°Is it better to think you are loved and be abandoned, than never loved at all?¡±

    What broke a child more?

    I pulled the duvet over my face, afraid to show even the empty room my tears. Hyraj could see them, but not this empty room. Still a child who was afraid to call out because she wanted to hope that, if she did, someone would come, but knew in her heart that no one would.

    Then the bed creaked, a weight pressing down on it. Sudden and shocking, yet I didn¡¯t feel scared, didn¡¯t flinch when a gentle touch stroked my head through the duvet. No, I lowered the duvet.

    There was the goddess. Indescribable, her appearance ever changing, like a video made with a different face for every frame. Black, white, Indian, Chinese, and so many more I couldn¡¯t tell at a glance, her hair both long and short and plaited and coiled and covered by a headscarf, her clothes light and heavy and showing nothing and showing almost everything. But it never looked wrong. There was more to her than what I saw and I felt like what I saw said more about me than her, staring into a mirror. Like my mind couldn¡¯t decide how she should look.

    As scary as that maybe sounded, I felt calm. Had I felt calm last time? I felt it this time, relaxed¡ªat home. Like she was the mother I¡¯d never had. Recognising her by the weight on the bed when she sat down, by the gentle, familiar touch when she stroked my head.

    In a way, she was my mum, giving me life here in this world. It was such a funny thought I started to laugh. It wasn¡¯t a manic laugh, not like I was falling apart, but gentle and warm, eating away the stuffiness in my chest. Once there was nothing left to burn, I looked up at her with a bit of a smirk.

    ¡°Hi, mum,¡± I whispered.

    She looked back at me with a smile, soft and gentle¡ªand how many times had I thought that now? Gentle. The one word I thought a mother ought to be over anything else. A mother¡¯s love, a mother¡¯s embrace, the gentlest, yet most secure, things in the world. Not that I knew them.

    ¡°Hello, Loulou,¡± she said, her voice like a summer¡¯s breeze the way it made me feel.

    I lowered my head, both shy and guilty. She¡¯d given me a second chance and all I could end up wondering was why. Why me. And I was afraid to ask her, afraid she had no reason, afraid she had a reason.

    But I had to ask.

    Lifting my head, I looked her in the eye. ¡°Why?¡±

    She still smiled, her ever-changing eyes a little pinched. ¡°Because Loulou was adrift¡ªin more ways than one,¡± she whispered, and brought up her hand to pat my cheek.

    I leaned into the touch without thinking, like a cat. Once her fingertips broke away, I broke from the spell, finally hearing her words. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°You do, which is why you don¡¯t,¡± she said.

    I wanted to laugh, wondering if mothers had to speak in riddles. But no laugh came out. I hurt, so much. ¡°Why?¡± I asked again, trying to blink away the tears.

    ¡°All I want is for you to look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself. See that you, too, are a person. To hold yourself to the standards you hold others to, to love yourself how you would love others.¡±

    She leant forwards as she spoke, pausing there to kiss my forehead. Had anyone ever done that? Well, some of the little ones had when playing pretend where they were the mum and I was the baby. Not much different to now, but the feeling was so different. So gentle and full of love. How had it felt before, though? Had it really felt so different?

    While I was stuck between present and past, she pulled back to how she was before, sitting elegantly on the side of the bed. Not at the end, but not too close either. The place where a mum would sit for her rebellious teen who was in a mood.

    Her words crashed around inside my head, not painful, but uncomfortable. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°You do, which is why you don¡¯t,¡± she said again.

    I hated the riddles. I hated that I was scared what would happen if she didn¡¯t speak in riddles. That the naked truth would break me. Well, break me more. How much more of me was there to even break?

    ¡°Tell me, Loulou, are you satisfied?¡±

    Hearing that question again was jarring. I¡¯d even asked myself that earlier, and the answer I had come to was¡ª

    ¡°Because it seems to me that you have found the simple life you desired.¡±

    I blinked and she was gone, the only trace the indent left on the blanket where she¡¯d sat, bed raising back to how it was.

    A draft brushed against my face, cold enough to make me shiver. Snuggling into bed, I closed my eyes. Maybe I would think this had all been a dream in the morning. Maybe it was. But, like how other people seemed to always remember the things their mothers said, I felt like I wouldn¡¯t forget.

    For better or for worse.

 Ch. 61 Understanding

    I woke up in the morning, early, dreams melting away and leaving behind what had certainly not been a dream. Rather than bursting with random thoughts, my mind was silent. I went through my morning routine, ending up in the kitchen to help Neffie with breakfast, which became keeping Sisi busy as she tried to help too.

    We saw off Mr Arl, then Sisi and I played and learned and laughed. There were no heavy thoughts in the quiet moments, no sense of dread if I stayed idle for too long, because the goddess¡ªAlnaya¡ªhad been right about one thing: this was the simple life I had dreamed of.

    I had no grand ambitions. I didn¡¯t even want to fall in love and have a huge wedding and then plop out a couple kids. This was enough: cooking meals with someone, looking after a child or two for the day, then retiring to a quiet room at night. Not too much, not too little.

    A trickle of rain drummed against the window, our knitting needles softly clacking, and I couldn¡¯t help but smile.

    ¡°Is Miss Loulou feeling bigger?¡±

    I looked over, Sisi paused in her knitting as she sort of ducked her head, staring up at me. Very cute¡ªlike she thought she was doing something she shouldn¡¯t. Well, her question was maybe a bit rude. Like with hats and laughing and using ¡°you¡±, you weren¡¯t supposed to talk about a person¡¯s feelings so bluntly, not unless you were ¡°family¡±.

    ¡°Do¡­ does Sisi think I have felt small?¡± Big and small euphemisms for happy and sad.

    She sort of wriggled, looking away. ¡°Mm, I thought you were small ¡¯cos you didn¡¯t see Miss Hyraj,¡± she mumbled.

    I chuckled, one hand holding my knitting while the other reached over to pat her. ¡°Sisi is very caring and thoughtful,¡± I said, then sighed. ¡°Yes, I am, but I am happy to see Sisi and your big cousin and papa.¡±

    Thinking, she fell into a pout. ¡°We¡¯re your friends too?¡±

    ¡°Mm, you¡¯re my friends too,¡± I said and, unable to resist, I ruffled her hair.

    She giggled, melting away her pout. It suited her. I¡¯d forgotten this feeling, how nice it felt to smooth away the little ones¡¯ worries, putting a smile on their faces after everything they¡¯d been through.

    It wasn¡¯t a feeling I could put into words. It didn¡¯t feel. I had always read about happiness and joy and whatever, how vivid it apparently felt, how strong. But this feeling wasn¡¯t so much feeling as not feeling. I ached in sympathy with them, then released that knot of pain once they smiled. Selfish. Helping them to make myself feel better.

    At least, that was how I¡¯d sometimes thought it¡ªif I ever started feeling too good about myself. I couldn¡¯t be a good person, I thought. Because a good person didn¡¯t deserve this.

    Sisi carried on knitting, happy to be my friend, and I idly neatened her hair for a little bit before going back to my knitting. A jumper for Hyraj with a hood and long enough to be a dress¡ªto make sure she wouldn¡¯t get too cold when reading now we were heading into winter. Not that it felt all that much colder these days.

    A slow day, calm, and simple.

    When Mr Arl came home, I went to help Neffie. She really liked making sauces. The cook at the dormitory didn¡¯t teach me much of that, so I was happy to learn from Neffie and manage the rest of the cooking. Let her focus on boiling this and frying that.

    After the meal, I helped Sisi get ready for bed. The sleepy Sisi I hadn¡¯t known before. Once she was in bed, Mr Arl took over. I went down to clean the kitchen, but, passing the lounge, Neffie called out to me: ¡°Louise?¡±

    ¡°That it is?¡± I said, popping my head in.

    ¡°Uncle Arl likes to tidy up. I¡¯m sure he feels guilty having us do too much, so let him do that,¡± she said, a laughter in her voice that left behind a sweet smile.

    I froze for a second, not really encountering this before. But I had, flickers of memory, Hyraj ¡°fighting¡± me over cooking and cleaning back on the mountain¡­.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Neffie sighed in relief, then pushed herself up. I thought she was being a bit silly how, like, lazily she did that, but I saw her sleepy face. She still had a few more years to grow. Well, not that I really felt like an adult yet either.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± Neffie said, shuffling past.

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± I said. Hern, from ¡°her arin¡±, the literal meaning something like: safe dreams.

    Safe dreams, as if dreams could be dangerous. Maybe they could be.

    Waiting by the window, I watched the drizzle trickle down, sometimes blown against the glass, sometimes not. Almost a mirror, but not quite. What I could see more like a shadow than me.

    Eventually, footsteps creaked down the stairs. ¡°Ah, Miss Louise is still awake?¡± Mr Arl said.

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    I turned around, softly smiling. ¡°Soon,¡± I said, not really making sense, but enough that he nodded with his hand.

    He didn¡¯t carry on to the kitchen, though. After hesitating for a long moment, he stepped into the room, speaking softer than before. ¡°That is it, I know this¡­ isn¡¯t a matter for me, but I thought they should know Miss Hyraj looked like she had barely slept this weekend.¡±

    My heart gave a painful ache.

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying anything one way or the other, but maybe it would be best to resolve this sooner than later,¡± he said, his usual smile looking strained, his gaze wandering.

    ¡°Mr Arl can tell her I¡¯ll come home after work tomorrow,¡± I said.

    ¡°Well, great,¡± he said.

    I smiled. ¡°Goodnight, Mr Arl.¡±

    ¡°Goodnight,¡± he said, then frowned. ¡°Is it that Miss Louise stayed up to tell me this?¡±

    My smile grew.

    He covered his face with a hand, then it slid down to cover his mouth. ¡°Well, it is expected for a gossip to be embarrassed,¡± he said, eyes half-closed from the ironic smile he hid.

    I shooed my hand. ¡°That is it, I am happy Mr Arl worried about us.¡±

    He looked at me for a moment, hand coming down, then said, ¡°I think we are a bit past Mr Arl by now. If they would like to call me Prist, or, well, I suppose it is uncomfortable to call me by that. What about Uncle Arl, like Frinnef does?¡±

    It was quite funny to see him kinda flustered about all this. I guessed it wasn¡¯t the sort of thing he was used to, maybe¡­ because the family couldn¡¯t invite just anyone into their home, not with Sisi. So easy to forget how nasty racism was, except I couldn¡¯t forget. Not for myself and not for the little ones. Like an extra sense, so conscious about every little thing around new people. I had let my guard down before, ignored it with Mrs Frinchen, forgetting that people who looked like me could be racist to others. So naive. Not again.

    ¡°Uncle Arl,¡± I whispered, then nodded with my hand. ¡°But then, Uncle Arl has to call just me Louise.¡±

    Though I fumbled the words, he didn¡¯t laugh, just nodded back with his land. ¡°Louise it is.¡±

    Going upstairs, I felt light. My head was still full of thoughts, but they weren¡¯t heavy, not weighing me down. Outside, the rain rattled against the window. I drifted over after changing into my pyjamas. How I¡¯d hated the rain, how I loved it now, so comforting. I thought it a shame the rainy season was going to end soon, but it couldn¡¯t rain forever.

    Not quite a mirror, what I saw reflected in the glass more like a shadow than me, yet I still saw myself there. Gentle candlelight behind me, flickering in the little draft.

    I understood, which was why I didn¡¯t understand.

    Why she had rescued me. The goddess of this island, who rescued those adrift, and offered them sanctuary. Hyraj had told me that sanctuary was a very specific thing, and being adrift was probably a specific thing too.

    Adrift¡­. I had no home. I had a place I went back to because I had nowhere else. A place where I was safe, but that was only one kind of safe. Not the kind of safe I tried to give the little ones. Not the kind of home I tried to give them. That building¡­ it meant something very different to me that it meant to them. What it meant to me was something I didn¡¯t want it to mean to them.

    But that wasn¡¯t it, was it? Wasn¡¯t all of it.

    She wanted me to look in the mirror and see myself¡­ as a person. Because that wasn¡¯t how I saw myself now. I was a reflection. I existed as something that was useful to other people. I was Sisi¡¯s nanny, the cook¡¯s helper, the little ones¡¯ big sister. There was no me.

    But that wasn¡¯t their fault, was it?

    I already knew. I was broken and, what scared me more than being broken forever, was that I didn¡¯t have to be broken. I was terrified that I could ¡°fix¡± myself. Not normal, but not broken.

    Because I¡¯d seen many broken children at the orphanage, and some of them had gone through therapy, gone off to live with their foster families, or been adopted. Not perfect, but not broken. They¡¯d struggled and pushed, even when there was no promise things would get better.

    I didn¡¯t cry¡ªbecause I feared no one would come. I didn¡¯t try¡ªbecause I feared that it would make no difference. At least for now, I could tell myself it was because I was broken. I couldn¡¯t be happy. No one could love me. As long as I could be useful, that was enough.

    Adrift, it wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t have a home, but that I didn¡¯t want a family. I didn¡¯t want people who loved me without me needing to do things for them. That just meant they would leave me when I did something wrong, right? If I annoyed them, if I made a mistake¡­.

    I didn¡¯t know why Hyraj fell in love with me, so how could I make sure to keep doing the things I needed to do to make her keep loving me? Was I supposed to just trust that she would? Trust that, if she stopped loving me, she wouldn¡¯t leave me?

    How could I do that? After spending all my life without trusting anyone, how could I start now with this?

    Smiling, I reached out, touching the glass, touching the shadowy reflection of my fingers. Still lying to myself, trying to protect myself from the pain I saw in others.

    The first step wasn¡¯t falling in love with Hyraj and living happily ever after. This was the first step: looking at myself. Long ago, I was a little girl with no one, and I had spent my life trying to make sure no one else was like that. Trying to become who I needed back then.

    But I couldn¡¯t change the past, nothing would. I needed to look at the me in the mirror. Not a little girl any more, but still someone who deserved love and happiness and a home where she felt safe. Because, no matter how much I felt like I didn¡¯t deserve that, none of the other girls at the orphanage¡ªno matter how much they screamed or trashed the place or tried to hurt me or the little ones¡ªI¡¯d never felt like they deserved what they went through, always hoped they could find the help they needed. Even once they turned eighteen and were suddenly adults who were responsible for their every action, how could I blame them for being broken after spending their entire life in pain?

    How could I blame myself for being scared when I never had anyone to hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay?

    People talked about blame and excuses like they didn¡¯t matter, like people were always terrible if they did terrible things. But the point of blame and excuses wasn¡¯t to say that they didn¡¯t do terrible things. No, it was to try and understand why they did and how to help them not do it again. If a little one was bitten by a dog before, I would do my best to keep her away from any dogs we saw on the street, pick her up if I had to. I wasn¡¯t a therapist who knew how to help children overcome their fears, I was just another kid trying to make the little ones feel safe.

    My thoughts meandering, I reached out with my other hand, then leaned forwards, resting my forehead against the window pane. Not too heavily, scared it would break. But touching my reflection more.

    I needed to understand I wasn¡¯t a robot who existed to serve others. I was a person too. I deserved happiness, I deserved to feel safe, and¡ªif Hyraj wanted to give it¡ªthen I deserved her love too.

    Whether or not I could love her back, I still didn¡¯t know. After spending so long believing I was broken beyond repair, I didn¡¯t know what I would look like once I picked up the pieces, but, if she was willing to stay by my side while I did, then I wouldn¡¯t push her away.

    Not this time.

 Ch. 62 One door closes, another opens

    Another day, no different to any other, yet so important to me. The day that would probably decide the rest of my life in one way or another. I wasn¡¯t nervous, full of smiles and laughs as I looked after Sisi.

    A day like any other until the afternoon sunlight began to fade. ¡°Shall we go pick up papa?¡± I whispered to her.

    Not expecting that at all, her tiredness vanished and eyes widened, on her feet in a second and tugging me to the lounge door the next, saying, ¡°Yes!¡± over and over.

    It wasn¡¯t easy getting her ready to go out when she was so excited, but it wasn¡¯t hard either. I could afford to be patient in this world. Once she was snuggled up in her warm clothes, the mornings and evenings starting to get a chilly bite to them, we set off. A peaceful walk, not too many walking this way and, those that did, some vaguely knew of Sisi, being colleagues of Mr Arl¡ªUncle Arl.

    Of course, Sisi was still very shy, hiding behind me whenever anyone greeted her.

    It wasn¡¯t a long walk either, but a little slower with her little legs. They didn¡¯t move as fast in the evening as they did in the morning too. That said, she kept going, not asking me to carry her. Such an independent little girl.

    I hoped, as she grew up, Uncle Arl didn¡¯t take that independence as a reason to¡­ leave her to it. Every child wanted¡ªneeded¡ªto be loved.

    We arrived at the office to a trickle of people leaving. Sisi hugged me tight, poking her head around, watching, waiting, until finally¡ª

    ¡°Papa!¡±

    She waved one arm, the other still holding me tight, sticking right where she was. Of course, he heard her shout and looked over, waving once he saw me¡ªor maybe he saw her first. Whatever the case, he strode over to us and Sisi ran to him once he was close enough.

    He bent down to hug her tight, picking her up in the air as he did. I smiled watching it. The sort of thing I hadn¡¯t seen much of in the past.

    But I couldn¡¯t watch for long, Hyraj behind him.

    I said goodbye to Sisi, confusing her. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow, okay?¡± I said.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said.

    I reached out and rubbed her forehead until the wrinkle there smoothed out, giggles escaping her, turning around to bury herself against her dad¡¯s neck.

    Then, at Hyraj¡¯s side, I walked back to the dormitory.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t that simple. ¡°I¡¯m going to help the cook with dinner.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± she whispered. A touch hoarse. Not like she needed a drink, but like she was about to cry. Maybe she was. Whatever the reason, it hurt me a little to hear her like that, but I didn¡¯t turn around, going through to the kitchen.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re back! Good, good, take the pan,¡± the cook said, one glance at me all she needed.

    I laughed, covering my mouth, that ¡°polite¡± habit settled in by now. While I kept busy frying some of the spices, she fiddled around until, coming over, she took the pan from me and handed me a drink.

    Fresh tea.

    As if she¡¯d been waiting for my return to cook something extravagant, I barely stood still after finishing my drink, running around to fetch things for her or manage part of the cooking. However, the end result was simple, but wonderful, one of her curry dishes as I thought of them. Not the sort of thing Neffie liked cooking.

    Which, really, made a lot of sense. I was so used to people who looked like me being rare, everyone lumping us together¡­ but even two people in the same family had different tastes.

    When it was ready, I took a portion for myself and for Hyraj back to her room. As soon as I knocked, well, she must have jumped up, chair clattering to the floor. My heart ached, but I still smiled.

    ¡°I missed the cook¡¯s meals a bit,¡± I said, setting the plates down.

    ¡°You did?¡± Hyraj asked.

    Hearing her say ¡°you¡± to me felt different to when the others did. ¡°Mm, Neffie¡¯s cooking isn¡¯t bad, but I like this kind of taste more,¡± I said.

    She mumbled something under her breath and I guessed what when she said, ¡°Miss Frinnef?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Mr Arl takes Sisi out on the weekends, so I spent some time with Neffie. She¡¯s a sweet girl.¡±

    Then silence settled, the polite silence both she and Uncle Arl liked when eating. Maybe these two more similar to each other than the cook. Maybe Hyraj would prefer Neffie¡¯s cooking.

    Idle thoughts to pass the time as I ate, only that, when I finished, I noticed she had barely eaten half, pushing the food around her plate as she glanced up at me. Our eyes meeting, I smiled. ¡°At the very least, eat well,¡± I whispered.

    She held my gaze for a moment longer, then looked down, nodding with her one hand. Little by little, she dutifully ate the rest of the meal.

    I took our plates through to wash up, praising the cook as I did, taking advantage of her eating to say the nice words I hadn¡¯t always found the time to before. Before I left, she did manage to ask one thing.

    ¡°Will you be here tomorrow?¡±

    I paused, turning around to give her a smile. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    She gave me a confused look back, but didn¡¯t ask again, so I went down the hall to Hyraj¡¯s room. The door opened almost instantly after I knocked.

    Silence followed me inside, heavy, the room exactly the same as when I¡¯d left, yet it felt so different. It wasn¡¯t our room, now. My things weren¡¯t here. That said, with how uncomfortable Hyraj looked, sitting at the desk, it didn¡¯t really seem like her room either. I guessed, though, that it wasn¡¯t really home for her, not like her room back with her parents. The place she felt safest.

    My thoughts drifting, I looked at her to focus up. She didn¡¯t look like she¡¯d barely slept. At least, not to someone who didn¡¯t know her. If anything, she looked more normal this way, not holding herself to an impossible standard. Yet Uncle Arl had noticed. Maybe because he knew some of her, like, mannerisms, or maybe because she was a bit clumsy with her work.

    It hurt. What hurt more was that I was kinda happy, knowing I did mean something to her. I wasn¡¯t someone she could just leave behind without a second thought. It probably wouldn¡¯t have lasted, maybe bouncing back in a few more days once she got used to it, but, for at least a little bit, I was someone she missed.

    And I missed her too.

    ¡°Do your parents or friends have a short name they use for you?¡± I asked, ¡°nickname¡± not a word that had come up in anything I¡¯d read.

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    She shook her hand, her voice coming out a little strained. ¡°It has always been Hyraj.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t thought before how important nicknames were to me. The little ones, they always had such big names and the adults always used them so strictly, so I liked to use nicknames. Names that wouldn¡¯t make them flinch when I called out to them. Names that, when they heard it, knew it was me and that I was smiling.

    But it was much easier when other people had come up with the nicknames already. Not like I could have called Harriet by Harri, so I was lucky someone had said Hatty was one.

    Hyraj, well, I had no idea. I didn¡¯t know if Hyra or Raj were nice or not. Hyhy sounded too silly to me, Rara had been the name for a cartoon. But there was one I liked. I liked the sound of it, I liked saying it, albeit something I had only said in my head so far.

    ¡°How about Aj?¡± I asked, saying it softer than usual, almost like Ash. ¡°Do you hate it?¡±

    She lowered her head, almost like she was hiding from me. ¡°I do not.¡±

    ¡°Aj,¡± I said again, smiling. ¡°The little ones called me Loulou, and now Sisi does too. My name isn¡¯t really much good for other short names, but I guess Lou, or is there something else you would like to call me?¡±

    ¡°That is it, I am unsure why we are doing this now of all times,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°It¡¯s because it¡¯s now that we¡¯re doing it. Because I don¡¯t know how to be a normal person,¡± I said, blinking away the sudden tears that appeared. After a deep breath, I continued. ¡°I am not normal. I don¡¯t know if I can ever be normal. I told you some things, but you can¡¯t understand what is wrong with me. It is like¡­ saying colours to someone who can¡¯t see them. Your colours are bright and vivid, and mine are all grey.¡±

    The problem with speaking from the heart was that my heart wasn¡¯t very good with words. I chuckled, rubbing away the tears at the corners of my eyes.

    ¡°Aj, I feel something for you, something different than with the others. But I don¡¯t know if it is¡­ preference. I am scared. I am so, so scared. But I am being brave. Brave like you were. What you understand¡­ what I need you to understand¡­ I don¡¯t know how to love. But I trust you to show me. Not¡­ preference, but still love. Because I, I only know how to be useful. I only know that. I need to be useful so I can stay with you. That is¡­ was how I felt. I was afraid, if not useful, you can leave me. And since you can leave me, I, I can¡¯t¡­ trust you. Everyone¡­ at the orphanage, there was no forever. I knew everyone, one day, leave, so I don¡¯t trust them.¡±

    Going around in circles, I felt like such an idiot, all the thinking I¡¯d done falling apart now that it mattered the most, covering my face as I felt the tears come back again.

    ¡°Aj, Aj,¡± I whispered, calming myself with the name I¡¯d given her. ¡°I can¡¯t ask you to do this. It is my job to¡­ not be ill. To heal. But if you will, I need you to know¡­ I don¡¯t need¡­ kindness. I need patience. I need you to¡­ teach me like I¡¯m the little one. How to love. How to trust. I am broken, but I am not weak, okay?¡±

    I smiled into my hands, feeling so very weak right now. But how I felt was often wrong and I needed to learn to change that.

    ¡°If that is¡­ too much, I understand. I will go with Mr Arl and slowly learn on my own. This is¡­ my purpose, not yours.¡±

    I felt like crying, like laughing, like falling apart, and that was wonderful. That was my precious gift from the goddess. A chance to feel these things and many more, so long as I was willing to open myself up to them. A chance to no longer be adrift, but build ties with people, make relationships that wouldn¡¯t disappear as soon as we couldn¡¯t see each other.

    Was I satisfied with my old life? I was and I wasn¡¯t, doing the best I could in the terrible situation I was in. Was I satisfied now? No, and she knew that, knew I wanted so much more, greedy for love and affection, but afraid of the rejection that had been branded on me from the moment of my birth.

    However, I had been reborn, now, and my mother loved me. Let old scars fade, make fresh scars with interesting stories to tell my friends. There were no therapists to help me heal, but there was kindness in this world, kind people, and I wanted the courage to find them.

    These kinds of manic episodes were nothing new to me. Many times at the orphanage, I had been so sure someone would adopt me any day now, even packing up my things, only to be met with crushing silence.

    But Aj wouldn¡¯t be silent. I knew she could well hurt me in a way that was more painful than silence, but it would be the kind of pain I could heal from, no matter how deeply it stung. If she said no, if she said it was too much, then I would remember her forever, have days where I missed her so much I could cry, but I wouldn¡¯t be the little girl sitting by the window, waiting for someone who wouldn¡¯t come for me.

    I was free to go wherever I wished, however far or near, and find the things that made me happy, find other people who made me happy.

    However, I honestly didn¡¯t know what her answer would be. I thought that, if she really loved me as much as she said she did, then she would agree. Nothing could get in the way of true love.

    But this wasn¡¯t a story. Love had a way of souring when things got tough; I knew it well, why so many kids ended up at the orphanage. Love wasn¡¯t glue that held people together. Maybe, it was more like grease, keeping things smooth if it was bumpy. Easier to let go of little annoyances and frustrations, easier to notice the little things you appreciated.

    While I thought, so did she, and she finally had something to say, her lips opening and my brain stopping.

    ¡°Is it that¡­ Lou said she feels something for me, but it isn¡¯t preference?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said, smiling.

    She brought up her hand, covering her mouth. ¡°Is it that unclear?¡±

    It was honestly something I had kind of avoided, precisely because I knew I couldn¡¯t answer it. However, she deserved one, if only as an apology for everything I had put her through. No, as thanks for everything she had done for me. It was hard to adjust how I thought overnight¡ªeven if a goddess had visited and given me cryptic advice.

    ¡°Then¡­ may I kiss you, Aj?¡± I whispered, the only way I could think of coming to the answer right now.

    Silence, then she moved her hand away, turned to me with glittering eyes. ¡°If you must.¡± Despite the words she used, it sounded gentle, barely saying the first word and the rest sounding more like she was asking me to than giving me permission.

    However she¡¯d said it. She had said it, so I stood up and stepped over, and she tilted back her head, eyes fluttering closed as she pursed her lips, stretching out her neck. Adorable, I thought. This was the proud young woman whose parents wanted her to become ¡°president¡±?

    My hand came up and stroked her cheek before cupping it, gently holding her there as I leant down. A kiss, different to our last, so different, how she refrained from moving, not even tickled by her breath, just the feeling of her lips against mine. Soft, warm lips.

    I didn¡¯t hate it, but my heart didn¡¯t race either, the heavy thumps it gave just a bit more than normal. My legs didn¡¯t go weak, my mind didn¡¯t go blank. No feeling of happiness flooding through my body.

    But I didn¡¯t hate it. The things in life I liked were those that made me feel, like, at peace. Quiet nights when none of the little ones stirred, lunchtime breaks when I could sit in the library and read. I had imagined kissing other people, like classmates from school, and just the thought of it felt weird, uncomfortable, and I definitely hated imagining going further than that.

    With Aj, I didn¡¯t hate it at all. A chore, but the sort of chore I could happily do¡ªmaybe because I loved her. Maybe this was what my love, my preference, felt like.

    Pulling back, I saw her face. She didn¡¯t look like I had ever seen her before. The last time, she had been so ashamed, but, this time, she just looked childish. Looked her age. We were adults, but not really.

    Adorable.

    ¡°If I told you I can¡¯t¡­ prefer you, would that change your answer?¡± I asked.

    Looking to the side, her blush faded away in the long moment of silence before she answered. ¡°I, that is it, Lou asks a lot of me and it is not that I am unwilling, but that I¡­ do not know if I can teach her honestly.¡±

    ¡°I know I said a lot, but I said it very bad,¡± I said, smiling. ¡°What I mean is that¡­ I need Aj to be honest, and I need to trust her to look after herself. And I need her to trust me to look after myself. Things like¡­ if you need me to sleep in another room, then tell me. If you want to embrace me, then ask me. We can talk about these things through.¡±

    Sighing, I hated that I still messed up speaking so much. What a way to push two phrases together.

    ¡°Is it that?¡± she mumbled.

    I left her to think for a moment, then touched her hand on the table, bringing her attention back to me.

    ¡°Aj, you do not make my heart race, what I feel not like what you told me or what I read in books. But you make me feel safe and happy, and I don¡¯t hate your touch.¡±

    She looked at me with such reluctance, watery eyes wide. ¡°What is Lou saying?¡±

    ¡°Of all the people I met and know, I prefer you, Aj,¡± I whispered, touching her cheek again. Such soft skin.

    A laugh slipped out through her lips, mouth quirked into a sweet smile, and those tears fell. ¡°Really?¡± she asked, sounding like a six-year-old girl who couldn¡¯t believe Santa had brought her presents this year.

    ¡°Really,¡± I said.

    She reached out, only to stop herself, asking, ¡°May I embrace you?¡±

    I opened my arms, but she still waited for my answer. ¡°Yes.¡±

    In a flash, she was wrapped around me, squeezing me so tight it hurt. A good pain, though. I could enjoy it this once.

    However, when she finally let go of me, I took a step back. ¡°I should go.¡±

    Her eyes went wider than ever before, mouth opening, but no words coming out.

    I wanted to laugh, but didn¡¯t. ¡°All my things are at Mr Arl¡¯s house. But also, I want to stay there until he finishes working. Oh, but, I can come for dinner, and on the weekend.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°We¡­ are going to spend a long time together, I think, so I want to make sure we do it right,¡± I said, my hand drifting back to her cheek. She leaned into my touch this time. ¡°Pleased to be back,¡± I whispered

    There was probably so much she still wanted to say, but, right now, all she said was, ¡°Pleased you came back.¡±

 Ch. 63 Almost there

    I had told Hyaj I¡¯d stay with Uncle Arl until the end of the rainy season, but I sort of broke my word. Packing everything away to be moved, finding a buyer¡ªit wasn¡¯t quite as easy as he¡¯d thought. A little bit easier with someone to shepherd Sisi around.

    ¡°Hello, Sisi.¡±

    Sisi hid behind me as if terrified by Hyraj¡¯s gentle smile. ¡°I think she forgot she met you,¡± I said lightly, covering my mouth.

    ¡°I did?¡± Sisi mumbled.

    Crouching down, I half-turned and looped an arm around her. ¡°Mm, this is Miss Hyraj, my good friend.¡±

    ¡°Miss Hyraj,¡± Sisi whispered, frowning in thought, then the wrinkles melted away and she hugged me. ¡°Oh yeah, your friend.¡±

    From upstairs, Uncle Arl shouted, ¡°Is that Miss Hyraj?¡±

    ¡°It is!¡± I replied.

    ¡°Go on, then, have fun¡ªand my thanks again.¡±

    I giggled, using my arm around Sisi to scoop her up. Over her squeals, I shouted up to him, ¡°She shall sleep well tonight!¡±

    Spending evenings and weekends with Hyraj, her manner of speaking had sort of rubbed off onto me again.

    ¡°What happening?¡± Sisi asked.

    ¡°We are going out to play!¡± I said, picking up her warm coat. ¡°Hyraj?¡±

    At my ¡°request¡±, Hyraj stepped forward and took the coat, assisting me with putting it on the squirming girl. After that, her shoes too. Sisi laughed the whole time¡ªif only because, whenever I had the chance, I gave her a tickle.

    Just as I put her down, Neffie came out of the kitchen, carrying the lunch box for us. ¡°Watch out, it¡¯s a bit hot. Wanted it to keep warm for yo¡ªthem,¡± she said, her gaze catching Hyraj at the last moment. ¡°Ah, I am Miss Frinnef. Oh, wait, we already met when Louise first visited? I thought we hadn¡¯t, then I saw them and recognised them, and now I¡¯m rambling.¡± She ended in a laugh, covering her mouth.

    ¡°My thanks, Neffie,¡± I said, taking the box by the knot of the cloth wrapped around it. The sort of thing I¡¯d seen on TV and wasn¡¯t sure why, but boxes here didn¡¯t exactly have lids that clipped on, not to mention the metal did get hotter than plastic would.

    ¡°My pleasure to meet them again,¡± Hyraj said.

    ¡°My pleasure too,¡± Neffie said, her smile still coloured with embarrassment.

    I barely made it a step before Hyraj took the box from me. Maybe for a second, I thought about fighting her for it, but there wasn¡¯t a point. One of the things I was working on¡ªwe both were.

    Sisi still half-clinging to me, I patted her back, then took her hand. ¡°Well, Sisi? Should we go play?¡±

    She looked up at Hyraj, her expression a bit complicated, but soon nodded with her other hand.

    So out we went into the morning¡¯s chill. After so long, it was kinda weird going out when it wasn¡¯t either muddy or raining, the ground firm and sky clear. Nice, though. Just because you were used to something didn¡¯t mean change was bad.

    Well, Sisi needed a little longer to learn that, staying on the opposite side to Hyraj.

    Rather than into town, we walked out towards the outskirts. I could feel Sisi¡¯s curiosity; she often lagged behind, my hand pulled back, followed by her scurries as she caught up. It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d never seen this stuff, but it had been months.

    Not to mention, it was quite interesting right now, the flooded fields growing the rice-like ousickle and some other things? I wasn¡¯t too sure myself. People planting, people harvesting, floating baskets like little boats, fun just watching them shift around in the waves made as people moved. Plenty of duck-like birds around, their feathers pretty, all kinds of tropical colours, making for beautiful reflections on the water.

    So I sometimes slowed down too, Sisi and I just watching. Still, at those times, I felt Hyraj at my side, close enough for our hands to bump. Maybe that wasn¡¯t by accident, maybe that was the real reason she¡¯d taken the box from me.

    Wasn¡¯t it wonderful when being selfish was kind?

    Not in any particular rush, we eventually wandered just beyond the river. With the water level so high, we couldn¡¯t get too close, but there were a few places like the one Hyraj and I had found that first time, places we¡¯d found since then.

    We quite liked it here and thought Sisi might too. Uncle Arl, good as he was, didn¡¯t seem like much of a rambler, so it would be a nice experience for her. Besides, now the weather was, uh, nicer? I didn¡¯t want to keep her inside. Kids were better off out where they could run and shout and breathe fresh air.

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    But mostly because we liked it here. Hyraj had finished working too, so I thought, if she wanted to hang out while I worked, somewhere she liked would be nice. It wasn¡¯t like we were going to kiss in front of Sisi, but there wasn¡¯t the same kind of pressure out here as in Uncle Arl¡¯s house. Not that he seemed like it bothered him when he had thought we were ¡°hesale¡±.

    It wasn¡¯t easy to stop overthinking everything, especially with no therapist.

    Sisi hardly talked as we walked, but I asked her questions, pointed things out, trying to warm her up. That worked pretty well, sounding more like herself when we reached a foresty bit with hardly any mud. Something to do with the types of trees there?

    Whatever the reason, there was a place to play here. Just that, well, I grew up in a city, the orphanage¡¯s garden tiny, and it wasn¡¯t like I was allowed to take the little ones anywhere but school and back. So I had no clue how to play here.

    That was fine, though.

    ¡°Come on, Sisi!¡± I said, tugging her along.

    We ran and looked at every interesting plant we could find, then I just chased her around, threatening her with tickles. Her laughter sounded like a broken speaker at times, laughing with all her breath. No need to calm her down. We could be as loud as we wanted out here, no neighbours, no grumpy teenagers, no overworked adults.

    Just us.

    So we ran and fell and, well, she picked herself up every time, leaving me to wonder what the right distance was. But I knew when, after picking herself up, I heard a sniffle, already crouching down in front of her and cupping her cheek, soaking up the tear into my sleeve.

    ¡°Does it sore?¡± I whispered; maybe thinking of that word as ache made more sense how it fit into sentences.

    She took in a shaky breath, her hand squeezing mine.

    ¡°If it aches, you can tell me,¡± I said, moving my hand from her cheek to the back of her head, gently stroking. ¡°Or papa. We¡¯re here to help you, right?¡±

    She gave me a little smile.

    Scooping her up, I squeezed her tight, spinning left and right as fast as I could without losing my balance. Not as fast as Uncle Arl, but not too slow either. Then I lowered us down to the floor, settling her on my lap. Grazes weren¡¯t anything new to me, but, out here, I expected it was just a bump, maybe a stone or twig digging in when she¡¯d fallen over. So I checked, but it didn¡¯t look like anything sharp had cut into her trousers.

    ¡°Should I give your knees a little rub?¡± I whispered.

    She nodded with her hand.

    I went to do it, only to come up with a better idea. ¡°Or how about a magic spell?¡±

    Her eyes widened, looking up at me with a wide-open mouth.

    ¡°Well?¡±

    Both her hands nodded, as if the pain had already been forgotten.

    ¡°Okay, here I go,¡± I said, making a ring with both my hands.

    I wasn¡¯t the little girl with no one any more, the teenager whose only worth to the world was looking after the little ones who had no one else. I was me. I was a goddess¡¯s daughter. I wanted to be someone who could stand proudly at Hyraj¡¯s side.

    Of course, being able to do magic wasn¡¯t what made me proud. What made me proud was thinking of all the nice things I could do with magic when she was out or busy. Warming up wherever we lived, being able to cook if we didn¡¯t have a proper stove, lighting the way, getting fresh water.

    Lying to children.

    I slowly felt the magic strands trapped by my fingers, felt them push against me as I closed the ring, tighter and tighter, and then I coaxed them into making light. Coming from my world, I knew there had to be some actual thing going on. Some crazy physics. Maybe quantum stuff, maybe something that my world (universe?) didn¡¯t have.

    But, to me, it felt like coaxing, sometimes accidentally whispering kind words to the magic to encourage it. Thankfully, I didn¡¯t embarrass myself in front of Hyraj today.

    That said, magic deserved a bit of flair, right?

    ¡°Alnaya, thank you for everything,¡± I said¡ªin English. Strange words that meant nothing to either of them, yet I was sure someone else was listening and understood.

    As I spoke, I brought out a gentle glow, mostly white, a tinge of orange. Not exactly perfect at it all just yet. I held it tight, making it bright¡ªbut not so bright it would hurt her eyes¡ªthen released it, the light spreading out, pooling over her legs as they faded.

    Looking at her, well, her eyes were still so wide, mouth open, not a hint of pain left. Smiling, I watched her reach out to touch the fading light, how she giggled when she could sort of push it.

    Proud of myself because I could make a child happy. Really, what better reason was there to learn something than that?

    ¡°Does it feel better?¡± I asked.

    Her brow scrunched up as she looked at me, apparently having forgotten why we were doing this in the first place, but she eventually remembered. ¡°Uh, yesh! All better,¡± she said, giving one leg a wiggle.

    ¡°I¡¯m not very good, so I can only heal bumps, okay? If it¡¯s bigger than a bump, we have to find a doctor,¡± I said, knowing the limits of my lie.

    Her hand nodded while she wiggled her other leg.

    So the day carried on, just running about the woods, Hyraj sitting with our lunch on a blanket, reading¡ªexcept that it felt like our eyes met whenever I looked over. Well, to each their own.

    Neffie¡¯s lunch was delicious. Uncle Arl too busy getting everything ready, he didn¡¯t have the time to tell her off for spending too much time cooking. So we had a bunch of sauces to dip something like vegetable spring rolls in, one sauce sweet another savoury, one sauce light another rich. Hyraj seemed to like them too. Hard to tell since she always ate at such a measured pace, but she scooped up quite a lot of sauce onto her spring rolls.

    I hoped I could remember to ask Neffie for the recipe.

    After eating, we relaxed, Sisi cuddled up to me while I told stories, fairy tales from my world. I had a decent grasp of what ¡°storytelling¡± was like here, at least according to Sisi¡¯s book, so I changed them up a bit, suiting her better. She listened as long as she could, my gentle voice mixing with the stream¡¯s gurgling, distant birdsong, insects chirping, and, eventually, the sound of her sleeping breaths.

    With a smile, I used my jumper as a pillow, loosely wrapping her up in the picnic blanket. She was in warm clothes, so no need for too much more.

    Just me and Hyraj, we sat beside each other, ours hands entwined, watching the river in silence. Well, until she asked, ¡°What happens next?¡±

    I giggled, no need to cover my mouth or hide my voice. Leaning against her, I felt so warm, and I whispered the rest of the story, words blending with the sounds around us, yet never doubting that she could hear me perfectly clear.

 Ch. 64 The End

    Almost a month after Hyraj and Uncle Arl resigned, the last day finally came. A wagon had parked outside the day before, already loaded with the furniture Uncle Arl was taking, Neffie having gone up a week earlier with her mother and Sisi. Not quite right for me to stay alone in a house with a man who wasn¡¯t actually my uncle, I had been staying at the same inn as Hyraj, but my own room, paid for with my own money.

    Last week¡¯s goodbye had been hard for me. Sisi squeezing me so tight, asking if I was going to see her there¡­. I couldn¡¯t lie to kids, not about these kinds of things, so I had honestly told her no. But I didn¡¯t have to leave it at no, not any more.

    ¡°One day, I¡¯ll come see you, okay? It might take a few years, but I will always love you.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know if me or Sisi cried more.

    Anyway, that was then, this was now. I had popped in with Hyraj over the week to cook for Uncle Arl and us, helping with some cleaning and washing. Well, he could do well enough on his own, more to keep him company. The first time he¡¯d really been apart from Sisi. The first time he¡¯d been alone.

    Today was his goodbye to the place he¡¯d lived with his wife, where his child had been born, and where his wife had died.

    ¡°Sisi is waiting for you,¡± I whispered.

    He didn¡¯t cry, but, honestly, he had probably run out of tears. His eyes looked red and puffy since me and Hyraj arrived, barely speaking a word. ¡°Am I doing the right thing?¡± he whispered, his voice hoarse.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but you¡¯re thinking what about best for Sisi,¡± I said, then winced. ¡°Th-thinking about what is best for Sisi.¡±

    He chuckled, barely making a sound. ¡°That is it. Then why must I feel as if I am betraying my wife, when I know she would support this?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes, we just want to hurt ourselves, so we have to remember it doesn¡¯t help.¡± It was more like I felt compelled to answer him than actually had a real answer ready, feeling so stupid even as I said it. Like I knew anything about how he felt.

    However, he laughed, a bit of life back in him. ¡°Truth spoken¡­ my thanks. I cannot think of anything anyone has said since her death that has reassured me quite like that.¡±

    Turning away, I rubbed my cheek. ¡°You don¡¯t have to, um, be nice?¡± I said, unsure of what the best translation of patronise was? It was kind of harsh in their language, but the other one I knew was more like indulge, not quite right.

    ¡°Did I not say I was speaking truth? Everyone else, they have always told me not to blame myself, how no one could have seen it coming or done anything about it. They tell me I must be brave for Sisi, how she needs me to be strong. They praise me for doing the things her mother once did.

    ¡°What you said¡­ made me feel understood. I do want to hurt myself with these thoughts and they don¡¯t help ease my guilt at all. No, if anything, they make it worse, knowing she wouldn¡¯t¡­. They aren¡¯t helpful, let us leave it at that. I am already saying too much.¡±

    I wanted to tell him it was okay to tell me, but was it really? All my life, I¡¯d tried to take the kids¡¯ traumas, which was what got me to where I was. I wasn¡¯t an expert. I wasn¡¯t well-adjusted. I felt like a little more wouldn¡¯t hurt, but it did, it always did, I was just numb to the pain. That didn¡¯t mean the pain wasn¡¯t there.

    Everyone had burdens to carry, found people to help carry their burdens, maybe swap them, carrying someone else¡¯s burden easier than carrying your own. But I couldn¡¯t carry more burdens.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure there will be people with even better advice in the city,¡± I said, its exact name still something I struggled to remember.

    ¡°Perhaps, perhaps not,¡± he said lightly. Feeling his gaze, I looked at him and he was smiling at me. A gentle smile. Maybe, like an uncle to his niece. I didn¡¯t know, but that was what it felt like, what I wanted it to be.

    Then he took a deep breath and turned away from the house. Soon, I watched the wagon slowly leave, keys and deed already handed over. Nothing to keep him here. Not any more.

    Hyraj had come to my side when he¡¯d left, but I didn¡¯t really notice until now, her hand finding mine and giving it a squeeze. ¡°My sorry,¡± I said, mixing two phrases together like the idiot I was.

    ¡°Why? Love is a beautiful thing,¡± she said.

    A simple answer that made what I told him sound so childish. I wanted to laugh, but there was too much melancholy stuck in my throat.

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    As if she knew that, she began to walk after the wagon, tugging me along. I didn¡¯t know why, didn¡¯t ask. We just walked and walked until we crossed the stream, then she took us up into the forest, losing ourselves among the trees. Walking and walking, until I couldn¡¯t walk any more.

    Tears already all over my cheeks, I pulled her into a hug, buried myself in the crook of her neck and cried even more. After a moment, her arms engulfed me. She wasn¡¯t much bigger than me, but she felt so strong at times like this. Reliable. Dependable. I never had someone like this before, yet it felt so natural now.

    Not alone any more.

    By the time I stopped, we were sat under a tree. Well, she was sitting and I was sort of draped across her, kinda embarrassing. But it was okay, her smile when she caught me looking at her as gentle as ever. The smile she only showed me.

    We didn¡¯t say anything, not at first, just sat there together. Close enough for me to rest my head against her shoulder, our hands entwined. The only place in either world where I could let go of my burdens. My home.

    How long? I was feeling too messed up to get hungry, but she fed me some water, summoning it in her hands. Helped me feel a bit better. Like back home, always trying to get the little ones to drink enough¡­.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t wish to be a mother one day?¡± she quietly asked.

    ¡°Do you?¡± I asked back, trying to make it sound like a joke, but my voice came out croaky. I cleared my throat, then went to say it again only for her to answer.

    ¡°It seemed like too great a burden before. However, shared with you, I feel like I could find the joy in it.¡±

    My heart melted. I still didn¡¯t seem to feel ¡°love¡± as much as her, as much as I should, but she was good at making me feel¡­ soft. This feeling like I wanted to do whatever she asked.

    ¡°Well, um, I¡­¡± I mumbled, taking me a moment to find an answer, especially since I, uh, knew how babies were made and that was a bit of a problem for us. ¡°Maybe¡­ if we find a little one who¡­ needs a couple of mothers.¡±

    Unsure what I was even saying, I felt reassured when she squeezed my hand. ¡°We need not come to any decision this very moment. That is it, I thought¡­.¡±

    ¡°Thought what?¡± I asked, so curious after hearing her unusually gentle tone.

    ¡°You looked very beautiful when with Sisi,¡± she said.

    I froze up for a good few seconds. ¡°Wh-what?¡± I said, a nervous laugh coming out.

    Slumping over a little, she rested her head on my shoulder. Not expecting it, or used to it, I almost fell over, but managed to get my other hand on the floor in time, supporting us.

    ¡°Please do not think ill of me. Seeing how you smiled with her, when speaking of her, I felt quite jealous. As beautiful as I thought you before, I had only glimpsed a trophy bird and now saw her flying among the forest and heard her free song.¡±

    Little by little since we began ¡°dating¡±, her¡­ compliments had started to, well, affect me. So I didn¡¯t just dismiss them now, but felt them. Especially in my cheeks. A ticklish prickling, a little light-headed, wanting to laugh.

    But this was a rare chance to tease her. ¡°Jealous?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Mm, I wanted you to smile so sweetly when thinking of me,¡± she said, rubbing my shoulder a bit as she settled in. ¡°Now though, thinking I may not see that sweet smile again¡­. I considered what it would be like to have a child with you and it felt different to before. Meeting Sisi and hearing how you spoke of her, that helped to clear up some doubts. Well, these are idle thoughts, nothing to take seriously at this time. We still have much to do before we settle down, no?¡±

    Sort of getting a bit overwhelmed by what she was saying, I was glad for that little bit at the end, grabbing hold of it. ¡°We do?¡±

    Her hand squeezed mine, not enough to hurt me, not letting go. ¡°At the least, I would like to travel to the southern coast for some time. There are hesale communities in a few of the large cities, from what I have read, so I wish to meet them. Then we would need to go back north to introduce you to my parents. Along the way, we can wander around, finding somewhere nice and quiet for when we do wish to settle down.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ thought about this much?¡± I asked, heart sort of pounding¡ªfeeling like I¡¯d forgotten something? As if thinking of our future was homework I hadn¡¯t done.

    She softly laughed, snuggling against me again. ¡°I have spent much time alone this last month and thinking such things eased my aching heart.¡±

    ¡°My apologies¡ª¡±

    Just as I said that, she pushed me over and, not expecting to be pushed, I just fell. Sort of in shock, I lay there blinking as she draped herself over me. ¡°I speak my mind for you to understand, not to guilt you.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I whispered, softly smiling.

    We stayed like that for like a minute, then she asked, ¡°Are you comfortable?¡±

    I giggled. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, Sisi¡¯s casual (childish) way of answering something that had stuck with me. ¡°Am I really comfortable that comfortable to lay on?¡±

    ¡°The most comfortable,¡± she answered without hesitation.

    Giggling some more, I moved my hands to her back, loosely holding her. ¡°The little ones liked to do this,¡± I said.

    ¡°Mm, but I am not a little one, am I?¡± she whispered, something different about her tone. I understood what when she then said: ¡°I am your preferred one. What I like is not the comfort, nor the gentle warmth, but feeling close you.¡±

    A kind of voice I hadn¡¯t heard much in my life, mostly just from the trashy shows some of the oldest girls liked to watch when the younger ones were in bed. Even then, they didn¡¯t sound quite the same, Hyraj¡¯s right now¡­ rather than throaty, it was smooth, deep, and ticklish to hear.

    But I didn¡¯t worry. Little by little, we were finding the right boundaries. She was allowed to feel like that and I was allowed to feel how I did. Speaking of things we were allowed to do, I lifted my head and, barely reaching, kissed the top of her head.

    As if I¡¯d pressed a switch, she almost jumped, picking herself up just enough to look me in the eye, pleading, her lips pursed. Giggling, I stretched up again and she met me halfway for a gentle kiss. Soft, warm, and it didn¡¯t make me feel like it made her feel, but I didn¡¯t mind it, liked making her feel like that.

    Maybe this was too fast, maybe too slow. I had no one to ask and only gossip from my world for a reference. All I knew was that, as long as we took every step when we both wanted to, I didn¡¯t think we¡¯d regret wherever we ended up.

    Still, this was what I wanted: a simple life¡ªand someone to live it with.

    Not the end, but the beginning.

 Ch. 65 Almost eighteen years later

    ¡°I hate you! I never want to see you again!¡±

    Before I could even react, the harsh crash of a slammed door made me wince. A little awkward, I shuffled over and opened it again, taking a few steps out.

    ¡°What did you do this time?¡±

    Letting out a bit of a giggle, I turned to Hyraj¡ªnot that I ever really called her that these days. Aj, my Aj. ¡°I asked her to wash the dishes she left in her room.¡±

    Aj nodded, then said, ¡°So it is your fault.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, the stuffiness in my chest blown away by her casual tone. Always calm, always patient. Well, she was with others, but not always me. I liked that.

    But right now wasn¡¯t the right time for those kinds of thoughts¡­.

    ¡°Is she¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can see her,¡± Aj said.

    A little relieved, I softly smiled and stood beside her. Our little cottage, a little away from a fairly busy town, so not entirely isolated. However, it was a couple hours¡¯ walk to get there. Over the years, we¡¯d basically rebuilt the entire thing. Even dug out the half trench where the sewage pipe was laid ourselves. Cut down the trees to clear some land, then began farming¡ªlike I had so long ago.

    We didn¡¯t need to, not like we had no money, but it was nice. Experimenting. Something that hadn¡¯t been obvious when I¡¯d come here, obviously plants didn¡¯t grow that quick. Up there on the mountain, the magic was thick, so stuff grew faster and healthier?

    Maybe better if I didn¡¯t try and explain it.

    Anyway, we didn¡¯t need much land to grow stuff. Aj could put a bit of magic into the ground, the one who actually understood what was happening and trying to work it out properly. Would be kind of a big deal if ¡°magic fertiliser¡± could be used all over the world to grow crops this fast.

    So that kept her busy, and I just tried to make tasty stuff for cooking. I had like twenty different kinds of not-chillis growing on my own plot. Miniature trees, more like shrubs, that grew the garlicy nuts. Herbs too, not really something the people here liked, preferring spices, but I had practised roasting vegetables, so herbs added the milder flavours I wanted.

    It was funny how something I¡¯d only learned after coming here could remind me of the good times back in my old world, but cooking did. Even if I still hadn¡¯t tried any meat here, the roasted vegetables, different to anything I¡¯d eaten as a child, brought me back.

    ¡°Time heals all wounds¡± was something I¡¯d heard. Really, what it did was numb the pain. I could still remember the worst of it. Just that, it didn¡¯t hurt like it used to. Or maybe because it felt like someone else¡¯s pain now. What I felt just¡­ empathy for the child I used to be.

    Anyway, as bad as I now knew my childhood had been, I wanted to hold onto the kindness. I wanted to remember I was doing the best I could in a terrible situation. It still felt terrible, like I shouldn¡¯t have been allowed to call my childhood abusive, not when I wasn¡¯t beaten or starved or anything as bad as the stuff I¡¯d heard, seen.

    But it was.

    Looking out into the orchard, barely able to see the shoulder behind a tree, I had learned how important love was. Helly wasn¡¯t our first ¡°fostered¡± child. However, she was our ¡°worst¡±.

    I couldn¡¯t even think about what state she was in when we rescued her without crying. For almost a year, she wouldn¡¯t make a sound. Flinched if either of us moved towards her at all. Refused to eat if we were in the room, often throwing up after binging on raw vegetables in the night. There was even a month where Aj and I didn¡¯t dare sleep at the same time, making sure someone was always around to check on her, because¡­.

    But now she could scream at me. That little Helly, too scared to even look at my face, could scream at me.

    At the start, I really had doubted I could do it. All I could think of was how could a broken person help a broken child? But Aj¡­ believed in me. Or, well, maybe not believed, but trusted.

    Love is gentle, firm, forgiving, bright, beautiful. Magic for people, it was whatever they needed it to be. Put another way, giving people what they needed was love, and love was the feeling of having someone else care for you.

    I never knew how powerful it was to be cared for until I met Aj. Maybe, if not her, someone else would have come along. Maybe not. I liked to think I was strong enough that I would have healed without her, but I was glad for her help. Something like a splint that helped the bone set right.

    Becoming that splint for others, it made me happy.

    There were days I felt terrible, like we were making Helly (or one of the other two we¡¯d fostered) worse, or times when I struggled to separate them and their bad behaviour in my head, but those times always passed. Not to mention, I could talk to Aj and she always took them out for a bit to give me a break, and if she ever needed a break, I could do the same.

    It was wonderful not being alone. Wonderful having someone I could trust, having someone who cared for me, and giving that feeling to children who needed it felt wonderful too.

    As if hearing my thoughts, a distant chatter broke through the birdsong. Coming round the bend, some people walked beside a wagon pulled by a horse-rhino that was, really, quite sweet. This one loved my not-carrots.

    Sisi was one of them, her daughter only two-and-a-half years old, giggling away as the wagon rocked her. Though she had a ¡°seatbelt¡±, an older girl also in the wagon kept a good grip on her. Little Herfle¡ªeight, now?

    How time flew.

    Herfle was the cousin of the first girl we fostered, but Shisha and her wife were raising Herfle like their own daughter, her parents having died¡ªor just left, we still didn¡¯t know. And then there was our other ex-foster, Jal, hanging off her girlfriend like when we last saw them.

    Maybe it wasn¡¯t too strange that both our fosters had, well, ended up gay. All of them, including Helly, had trauma with men that meant being adopted by a straight couple was impossible; while me and Aj couldn¡¯t fully adopt them, we were allowed to ¡°foster¡± them. Aj handled the paperwork stuff, but we were technically listed as an orphanage¡­ maybe?

    Anyway, I knew it wasn¡¯t like their trauma made them gay. It probably was easier to discover it when they could see me and Aj living happily on our own. All I cared about, though, was that they were happy¡ªand they were.

    That said, I did always feel a bit sad that Uncle Arl didn¡¯t come on these days. He did at other times, and I was very thankful for it, helping our fosters get used to being around men in a safe environment. But there were a lot of women when we all met up and not really anyone his age, so I understood. Never dated anyone else, but, after Sisi moved out, his friend moved in. I doubted there was anything romantic between them, but the two looked cute together, like a pair of cheeky brothers how they always laughed together.

    Sisi¡¯s husband sometimes kept them company, sometimes came along to watch Lallie so Sisi could relax, but I didn¡¯t blame him either when he stayed back. Plenty of us here happy to watch Lallie¡ªshe was actually named after her grandmother, but then ended up loving lal so much that Neffie nicknamed her Lallie and it stuck. After all, her grandmother loved lal too.

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    Neffie, well, she maybe loved the city a bit much. I didn¡¯t know if even she knew who her son¡¯s father actually was, but he grew up with plenty of love, Neffie making many friends, living with a handful of roommates over the years. As far as I knew, she wasn¡¯t bi, but I didn¡¯t pry. Her mother absolutely adored her grandson, yet hated Neffie¡¯s life choices, so I tried to give Neffie space, listening more than asking.

    Despite me and Aj not being related to any of them, all the kids called us aunty. I loved that so very much. ¡°Mum¡± still felt like a bit much, but aunty was good. Not that I would have stopped the fosters from calling me that.

    Aunty Loulou and Aunty Hyraj. Well, except Helly. We were still Louise and Hyraj to her and that was fine. I didn¡¯t do this because I wanted them to love me, I did it to try and help children who had no one else to help them. That feeling of doing good was my reward.

    Without me saying anything, Aj took the lead in greeting everyone. I was happy Helly felt comfortable enough to scream at me, but that didn¡¯t mean I wanted to be screamed at, a little shaken up. And Aj just knew that, because of course she did.

    Even after all these years¡­ I felt loved, no, preferred. Out of all the wonderful people in our lives, she still preferred me.

    ¡°How is Danny?¡± Aj asked Neffie. There were quite a few familiar nicknames to my world, not too much choice when you shorten down a name and add ¡°y¡± or ¡°ie¡± to the end.

    ¡°Well, he takes after his father,¡± Neffie said, pausing to giggle at her own joke. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him for a few months. He sounded happy in his letter, but Kroustoa is so far¡­.¡±

    Hyraj nodded along with her hand¡ªsomething I messed up even more now than when I first came here. ¡°My parents say the company has a good reputation, so he should be safe,¡± she said, a bit hushed.

    Meanwhile, Herfle helped Lallie down, Sisi and Shisha close enough to react, but giving their kids room to grow.

    It still felt awkward to me, finding the right distance. Wanting to help and not wanting to smother. Especially with our fosters, it was easy to think the best thing for them was keeping them away from the world, letting them be happy. But they weren¡¯t pets.

    Naya, Shisha¡¯s wife, came over to me and, unsurprisingly, she asked, ¡°Where¡¯s our Helly, then?¡±

    They weren¡¯t exactly legally married, but there was nothing stopping people from drawing up those kinds of ¡°contracts¡±. Aj and I had some too. If either of us died, the other would get everything. Stuff like that. And unusual for even straight couples here, I took her surname, not like I had any attachment to my own.

    Anyway, as Shisha¡¯s wife, Naya knew a lot about her past. It made her extra considerate of Helly and Jal too. ¡°We had a bit of a¡­¡± I said, struggling to find the right word.

    Naya understood and looked over to where Helly was, not exactly an uncommon place to find her. ¡°Let Big Cousin Naya go say hello.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, forcing the smile. It wasn¡¯t exactly jealousy, or envy? But I sometimes wished I knew how she got on so well with Helly.

    With her going off, Jal¡ªor rather, her girlfriend¡ªcame over to say hello. ¡°Aunty Loulou, my thanks for having us again,¡± she said, such a sweet talker.

    ¡°Oh please, no need to be so formal. How is Grahtkroustad treating us? Krouna began working at Uncle Arl¡¯s company, didn¡¯t she? Let me know if he isn¡¯t paying enough,¡± I said, not entirely sure what I was saying, still bad at adjusting to new people. Well, new adults. I hadn¡¯t really had a real job or had any of the worries adults were supposed to have. It, um, helped to marry into money.

    Jal giggled and, stepping forward, gave me a big hug, which included lifting me into the air like it had ever since she¡¯d just kept growing bigger than me. ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to sound like any old adult, okay Aunty?¡±

    I had to wait for her to put me down to catch my breath. ¡°Please, Jal, not in front of the guests,¡± I whispered, barely managing to sound at all chastising.

    ¡°What guests? It¡¯s all family here,¡± she said, giggling again as she returned to Krouna¡¯s side. Well, she actually stood behind Krouna, wrapping her girlfriend up in a hug¡ªand Krouna looked equally as pleased with the situation as embarrassed. Jal had that kind of effect on people.

    Herfle and Lallie wandered over next, their parents right behind, taking away some of my awkwardness as I could indulge in asking them all sorts of questions. While I did, Sisi and Shisha came over for a hug each.

    What they¡¯d done, where they¡¯d been, what they¡¯d eaten¡ªmy favourite questions to ask a child, whether they were three or thirty.

    Lallie had a lot to say about the wagon ride, including that they had to stop twice: once because she thought she needed to ¡°do wee-wee¡± and a second time because she actually needed to ¡°do poo-poo¡±.

    Herfle had gone on a boat across a lake the week before, Shisha filling in that it was with a boy, which made Herfle very insistent that ¡°it¡¯s not like that¡±. Apparently, she didn¡¯t like him because he was friendly with her best friend, a girl. From the looks of the other adults, none of us were quite sure which of the two she was actually jealous of, but we were a bit of a biased group.

    Sisi and Shisha, for their turn, had a lot to say about the food in the nearby town. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure if it was good or bad since a lot of it was about the cost. Was three Krouen expensive for dinner? I had no clue, just that they were very passionate about it.

    Aj pulled Neffie back over then, Herfle eager to hear about Big Cousin Danny, basically her idol. She liked how he hadn¡¯t treated her like a baby, maybe because he grew up around so many adults. Then Sisi pestered Neffie about what she was going to do now she wasn¡¯t a full-time mother, talks of travelling to keep her from worrying, soon devolving into a few different conversations going on at the same time.

    Lively. I didn¡¯t hate it, really did love it, but it also left me feeling out. Never had slipped out of feeling like I wasn¡¯t part of groups, only watching over them. Like with the little ones back in my old world. Not a bad feeling, just hard for me to step in. I didn¡¯t like being pushy. Someone else always had something to say, so I let them go first.

    ¡°What do you think, Lou?¡± Aj said, squeezing my hand.

    I blinked, taking a moment to react. ¡°Well, I like roasting, but I¡¯m in all day. If they¡¯re working, they want to eat soon after coming home, don¡¯t they?¡± I said, looking at Sisi and Shisha, glad to see them both ¡°nodding¡±.

    ¡°Exactly! I tell him, if he wants a roast like Aunty, then he can throw them in after he picks up Lallie,¡± Sisi said, ending with a pout.

    Shisha laughed, pulling Herfle into a hug. ¡°If my little one can learn how to do it, I¡¯m sure a grown man can,¡± she said.

    Herfle sort of wriggled for a moment, then beamed at the praise.

    ¡°Oh he can, but he gets too distracted playing with Lallie, doesn¡¯t he?¡± Sisi said, picking up her own daughter into a hug, swinging side-to-side.

    Just like Uncle Arl used to do with her.

    Hit by that sudden wave of nostalgia, I felt my eyes tear up, excusing myself to check on the food. Gave Aj¡¯s hand a squeeze as I left, letting her know I was fine.

    Sort of happened this time of year. The anniversary of me coming to this world. It made more sense to me to celebrate this as my birthday, at least with my family. My actual birthday was something for me and Aj alone.

    This year especially, I had almost spent as long in this world as my old one. Eighteen years. Eighteen long, wonderful, beautiful years.

    Inside, I walked to the kitchen and didn¡¯t find the moment alone I was looking for.

    ¡°Aunty Loulou,¡± Naya said, smiling, as she dried the plates Helly was washing.

    Helly froze up for a second, then put the last plate on the side. For a bit longer, she just stood there awkwardly, but eventually turned to me, staring at the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she mumbled.

    Clearing her throat, Naya gave Helly a nudge.

    ¡°My sorry for¡­ shouting when Louise was¡­ polite,¡± Helly said, struggling to put to words what exactly she was apologising for. I doubted I¡¯d do any better in her place, hard to explain why you scream at someone without sounding like you were just making excuses.

    Though she¡¯d grown so much since she came here a few years ago, I was still a head taller than her, so I lowered myself down to match her height. And I waited for her to look at me.

    One second, ten, then she slowly raised her head. I smiled. ¡°My sorry too,¡± I whispered. ¡°I know Helly doesn¡¯t leave plates in her room unless something is wrong, and I know she gets nervous when everyone comes over. But truth told, I get nervous too, so I kept thinking I needed more plates for dinner and not thinking if she needed some help. So my sorry. Helly is much more important to me than some plates.¡±

    She kept staring at me, up until her eyes started to water. The next second, maybe so I wouldn¡¯t see, she darted forward and hugged me. I hugged her back, but not so tight that I¡¯d hurt her.

    When we fostered Shisha, Uncle Arl had told me about that. How you reach a point where you love a child so much all you can think about is not hurting them. I didn¡¯t understand at first, having spent so long looking after children and not really thinking that way, but I eventually did with my fosters and Danny and Herfle and Lallie. These moments where I wanted them to know how much I loved them, cherished them, and wanted to give them the world.

    By the time Helly let go of me, Naya had left¡ªbut Aj was there. ¡°Did my sweeties need any help?¡± she asked.

    I went to tell her no, the first word on the tip of my tongue, then swallowed it and looked at her with a smile. ¡°We should get to serving. Right, Helly?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Aunty,¡± she said, then very quickly stood up and busied herself with taking out the big serving plates I kept for special occasions.

    Leaving me there with a goofy smile. Aj leaned in, whispering, ¡°Well done, Aunty.¡±

    There were hard days, times when I felt like a complete failure, and months where it felt like we weren¡¯t making any progress. Then there were moments like these that I could cherish for the rest of my life.

    A simple, but satisfying, life.