Noah woke up to the distant sound of chickens in the village.
The wooden ceiling above his head was cracked in several places, and small beams of morning sunlight slipped through the gaps, lighting up the simple room. He blinked a few times, still sleepy, and turned to the side, burying his face into the old pillow.
"Five more minutes… just five more…"
The sound of footsteps outside the room made him sigh.
"Noah, are you awake already?" his mother's voice came from the kitchen, gentle but firm. "The porridge will get cold."
He opened one eye.
"I'm coming…" he murmured, without moving at all.
Liar. I'm still sleepy.
The wooden floor was cold when he finally put his feet out of bed. Noah put on his simple, rough-textured shirt, already worn from use, and slipped into the crooked sandals that always seemed a little too big for his feet. He walked to the water basin in the corner of the room, washed his face, and ran a hand through his messy black hair.
In the cracked mirror hanging on the wall, he saw his own reflection: a ten-year-old boy, short and plain-looking. Not ugly, but not eye-catching either. His dark eyes always seemed a little tired, as if he had been sleepy since the day he was born.
"Good morning, Mom."
She was stirring a pot on the improvised stove made of stones and scrap metal. Her hair was tied up carelessly, and her eyes carried the fatigue of someone who had woken up too early.
"Good morning, my little ghost." She smiled faintly. "Are you going to sit down, or are you going to stand there staring until I burn the porridge?"
Noah laughed and sat at the table.
"I'm not a ghost."
"You are. You walk around the house without making any noise."
She placed the bowl in front of him and ruffled his hair. "Eat it all. You need to grow."
Grow for what, if no one here really grows…
He pushed the thought away and started eating.
After breakfast, Noah ran out of the house, almost tripping over his own sandals. The village was still waking up. People carried buckets of water, smaller children played in the dirt road, and some adults chatted near the small tavern that could barely be called a tavern.
"NOAH!"
The shout came from afar.
Tyler was waving both arms, almost jumping in place. He was a bit taller than Noah, had messy brown hair, and a smile that never seemed to leave his face.
"You overslept again, didn't you?" Tyler laughed when Noah got closer.
"I didn't oversleep. I just woke up late."
"That's the same thing."
Helena was sitting on a wooden fence, swinging her legs. Her dark hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and her expression was always too serious for someone her age.
"Are you two going to keep arguing, or are we going to the forest?" she asked.
Noah shrugged.
"We can play first."
Helena rolled her eyes.
"You always want to play."
"Because it's more fun than hunting ugly beasts."
Tyler laughed loudly.
"One day you'll have to fight for real, Noah."
Noah made a face.
"I hope not."
They spent the morning running through the village, climbing trees, betting on who could jump farther over the shallow stream, and throwing stones at old cans. The sun climbed slowly, and time seemed to pass without hurry.
On the second day, they went a little deeper into the forest than usual. Nothing dangerous — just far enough to scare younger kids.
Tyler held a stick like a spear.
"If a monster shows up, I'll protect you guys."
Helena crossed her arms.
"You can barely lift a bucket of water."
"I'll get strong one day."
Noah stayed silent, watching the trees.
Everyone says that…
On the third day, everything felt the same.
Too same.
The wind felt strange. The leaves did not move like they usually did. The birds were silent.
A chill ran up Noah's spine.
"Do you guys feel that?" he asked.
Tyler frowned.
"Feel what?"
Helena looked around, uneasy.
"The air feels heavy…"
Before anyone could say anything else, a distant roar echoed through the forest.
It was not the sound of a normal animal.
It was something wrong.
The ground trembled.
Noah felt his heart race.
This… this shouldn't be happening here.
The peaceful village was never attacked.
Never.
And even without understanding why, Noah was sure of one thing:
That would be the last day of normality in his life.