A timid ray slipped through the crooked slats of a shutter and slid across Terence's face. He frowned, stirred awake by that pale light. His neck was stiff, his back aching from having slept against a beam. The air had changed: it no longer carried only dust and soot, but the fresh dampness of morning, as if the house itself were breathing again.
He stayed still for a moment, feeling around him. The hearth was nothing but a mound of warm ash, the fire long gone. Beside it, the coarse blanket he had left… moved slightly. Mie was still asleep, curled up inside, her long ears drooping along her face. Her breathing was steady, her cheeks a little more relaxed than the night before.
He watched her longer than he should have. Yesterday, he had been alone, lost, convinced he had fallen into a permanent nightmare. And now—an actual child slept a few steps from him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A breath escaped him, somewhere between sigh and smile. He rose carefully so as not to wake her, stretched his stiff arms, then walked toward the door.
Outside, the morning air struck him like a blade of glass. Dew covered the grass of the clearing, every blade glittering in the slanted sunlight. He inhaled deeply. His lungs filled with a freshness so pure, so unlike the pollution and concrete he had known. The scent of bark, sap, damp earth.
His gaze drifted farther, past the trees. And he saw it.A city. Not a sprawling metropolis, but a walled town, gray ramparts with sober towers and tiled rooftops jutting like crooked teeth. By horse, perhaps two hours away. On foot, longer. Terence's heart beat faster.
He wasn't alone. This world had civilization. People. Rules. Markets. Everything he thought he had lost."…A city," he whispered, almost in disbelief.
A rustle behind him broke his trance. Bare feet whispered in the dew. Mie stepped out of the house, her blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Her golden eyes squinted against the bright light. She followed his gaze and spoke in a sleepy voice:"Orvenne."
The name rolled in his ears like a new language. Orvenne, he repeated inwardly. He turned to her."You know it?"
She nodded. Her ears perked briefly, then sagged again."But… dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
She pointed to the forest's edge."Monsters. Not strong… but attack."
Terence frowned. Last night he had seen only a foreign forest. But now, every shadow seemed suspect, every bush a threat. For him, an adult, it would be an inconvenience. For her, an eight-year-old child, it was a death sentence. She had survived out there? Alone? His stomach knotted at the thought."You… you were alone, all this time?"
She lowered her head, fingers gripping her blanket tighter. No answer. But the silence said enough.
Terence drew a deep breath, pushed the questions aside. Not now. First priority was food."Come on. Let's find something to fill our stomachs."
They stepped into the forest together. Morning light streaked through the branches in green and gold. Birds rustled, small animals darted away. Every step Terence took crunched damp leaves, but Mie walked almost noiselessly, her bare feet used to the ground.
He felt clumsy beside her. Every plant looked strange to him. Too many shapes, too many unfamiliar colors. He had no idea what was edible.He picked a random stalk."This—safe?"
Mie shook her head. Her ears twitched lightly."Don't eat."
He plucked a black berry."And this?"
She stiffened instantly, darted toward him, and slapped his hand."No! Stomach hurt. Very bad."
His eyes widened at her sudden speed, then he chuckled softly, shaking his head."Thanks… You just saved me from a big mistake."
She didn't answer, but her ears flicked, as if pleased.
A few steps later, she crouched to point at a bush laden with small red berries."This—yes."
He knelt beside her, gathered a handful, studied them."You're more resourceful than I ever was at your age."
Her ears perked at the praise, as though it touched something fragile. She turned her head aside, but he caught a flicker of pride in her eyes.
They found a trickle of clear water between mossy rocks. The thin stream sparkled in the sun. Terence crouched, tried to fill his flask… clumsily. Water splashed over his sleeves. He cursed under his breath.The second try was better. The third, perfect—no spill. He caught himself smiling. Routine. Even filling a flask, his strange skill made itself known.
They drank in turn, the icy water sending delightful shivers through them. Mie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, ears twitching at every sound of the forest.
Back at the inn, they dropped the berries on a wobbly table. The great hall still smelled of damp, but opening a window had made it bearable. Terence straightened, his gaze sliding to the staircase."We should see what's upstairs."
Mie nodded, clutching her blanket. They climbed together. The steps groaned, some too fragile. Dust and rot filled their noses.
The upstairs corridor stretched long, lined with doors. Terence pushed the first. A tiny room: collapsed bed, sheets eaten by damp. In the wardrobe, only rusted hangers and a pair of moldy boots.
He opened another: a bed still standing, shaky but repairable. A gray blanket lay crumpled. Mie approached slowly, brushed it with her fingertips. Her golden eyes shone with something strange.
"Not tonight," Terence said softly. "Not yet. But… soon. This will be your room. Your real room."
She blinked, surprised, then nodded with disarming seriousness. She laid her tattered blanket on the bed, as if already claiming it.
In another room, Terence found a cracked basin, connected to old pipes. A rudimentary bath. He touched the rim, mind racing with ideas: if he found a water source, heated it with firestones… He shook his head. Not now. But one day.
Downstairs, they rekindled the fire. This time, sparks caught faster. Terence noticed: his motions already sharper. Routine. The skill slid into every detail.
They crushed the berries in a chipped clay pot, added warm water. The result was a violet mush, tart, staining their fingers.
Mie ate with solemn focus, as if it were a royal feast. Terence tried some, grimaced, then laughed softly to see her chewing without complaint."You're braver than me," he said.
Her ears perked again, quietly savoring the compliment.
After the meal, he eyed their dusty clothes, their tangled hair."We should… wash a bit."
He improvised a basin from a dented bucket, heated water over the fire. Steam rose, filling the room.
He wiped his face, neck, arms with a wet cloth. The chill bit, but the freshness was good. Then he froze.
Mie. She was watching him with wide golden eyes. A child. A girl. She could wash herself—but she still needed watching. His shoulders stiffened."You… you can do it alone, right?"
She nodded. Then, seeing his hesitation, added with utter seriousness:"You stay. But don't look."
Terence coughed, spun his eyes away."Of course. I won't look. Promise."
He stood with his back to the fire, staring stubbornly into the flames. Behind him, the sounds of water, little splashes, a vexed "ah!" when she spilled some cold water.
When she returned, hair damp against her cheeks, arms clean, face washed, Terence stared a moment, surprised. She looked younger, frailer… but also more alive."Good job," he said softly, as if she had passed a trial.
Her ears stood tall, proud. She wrapped herself in her blanket at once, satisfied.
Evening fell. The fire crackled again. Mie quickly drifted off, curled in her clean blanket, ears twitching in sleep.
Terence lingered by the flames. The city in the distance. The monsters in the forest. The dust-choked inn. And this little girl clinging to him without a single question.
He clenched his fists, breathed slowly.I don't know why I'm here… but I won't let her be alone.
The house creaked softly, as if in agreement.