We went to the old man's house as I twisted my torso left and right, trying to ease my back pain. I really wasn't prepared for this kind of work — especially after years in a remote IT job back on Earth.
I walked in, placed my sneakers beside the old man's shoes, and headed to the bathroom. I waited for the elder to finish washing his hands, then took a cool, refreshing shower. The water was perfect — around room temperature, I'd say. It was a mystery to me where it came from. Just another question to ask someone... when I finally learn the language.
When I finished washing, I noticed some clothes under the door: a linen shirt and loose linen shorts. They were probably meant for me, right? They weren't there when the old man left the bathroom. Finally — clean clothes, and now I can wash my own smelly ones.
As I walked toward the kitchen, I saw an elderly couple. The woman was pouring some kind of pottage into bowls. I didn't have much appetite in this weather, but the bread... I drooled a little, just remembering its taste. It was as good as ever.
The pottage, though — I never liked soups. Especially cream soups. I hate them with a passion. The pottage was close to that consistency — not quite a cream soup, but close enough to make me wish for real, solid food.
We finished eating and went to the south side of the village. That's where I saw the young woman who gave me a contemptuous look this morning. We arrived at her house. The door was open, so we stepped in.
A mix of children's voices and laughter erupted to meet us. We passed a few rooms and entered the living area, where the young woman was lecturing a little boy and girl. Other children were running around, playing with toys, screaming, and laughing. There were many more children than a family should have. They didn't seem related, except for the red hair that was common in this village. Was this some kind of childcare? A kindergarten? It looked like it.
Ellie approached us and exchanged a few sentences with the old man, then stared at me expectantly. I looked at him. He nodded toward my pocket, where I had hidden the silver coin I had earned from hours of street cleaning.
No way. Did he want me to give that to her?
Apparently, yes.
With a reluctant sigh, I handed her the coin. The old man left, and I stayed, unsure of what exactly I had paid for. Ellie ignored me and walked over to the children, saying something that made them groan in disappointment. Slowly, they shuffled into a room to the left. I peeked inside — there were about a dozen small beds. Naptime?
Once she finished putting the kids down, she spoke a few quiet words to them and closed the door behind her. Then she looked at me and pointed toward another door, the one closest to the entrance.
I followed her into a simple classroom. Wooden desks lined the room, each with two chairs pushed in and arranged in an orderly manner. She pointed with an open palm to the furthest desk in the center of the room. I sat down. She brought four sheets of paper. Each had hand-drawn pictures with strange symbols below. There were seven drawings per sheet.
Sitting beside me, she picked up one of the sheets and pointed to the first symbol. She pronounced it clearly, then spoke the word written to the right of the symbol, separated by some space. She looked at me with the same expression she had when waiting for the coin.
I repeated the sound of the symbol. The word was harder to pronounce. Embarrassingly harder.
It felt a bit shameful — being taught the alphabet by someone younger than me. And worse: she was charming. That somehow made it more humiliating. But this was exactly what I wanted. No regrets. Good call, old man.
We went through the letters and the words that started with them several times. Then she stopped speaking altogether, expecting me to do the pronunciation. I tried, but I could only remember a dozen letters correctly and a handful of words. She took a deep breath and started again. Still, my improvement was minimal.
After some time, we left the classroom. In the hallway, she pointed at my sneakers, then at the door. Not exactly the warmest send-off... but I kept that thought to myself.
I left a moment later, hearing the door close behind me.
I wondered where to go — back to the old man's house or to his office? I chose the house. I didn't want him to give me more work while my back was still recovering.
When I arrived, the old woman opened the door. She looked at me for a long moment, then turned and went back to her room. It was a strange interaction.
I returned to the guest room where I had slept the night before and lay down on my back. For a moment, I felt euphoric — the pressure in my spine lifted. I lay there for a while, thinking about this and that. I was actually happy with how I'd done with the alphabet. Then, as boredom began to creep in, an unpleasant memory flashed across my mind.
I sat up and decided to go for a walk.
As I opened the door, a feeling of surprise washed over me. The air outside was much fresher and cooler than inside. The sun hung low in the western sky, casting a golden glow over the village. I figured I had a few hours before it set completely.
I decided to go where I'd seen the man named Varren walk that strange day — the day I almost got buried alive. It was time to learn more about my surroundings.