Night had fallen, and with it came dinner time.
After Helena explained everything, her mother's reaction shifted into quiet concern and warmth.
Without hesitation, she began helping Stella, preparing a hot bath, laying out clean clothes.
"Mrs. Meryl is very kind and generous," Stella thought as she gently dried her hair with a towel. The warmth of the room clung to her skin, easing muscles that had been tense for days. Most people wouldn't treat a stranger like this… especially not one who just appeared out of nowhere.
A faint unease lingered beneath her gratitude, "Kindness like this always came with weight. Nothing was ever truly free. I owe them more than words… but I don't even know what I can offer yet."
Her gaze drifted slightly as her thoughts deepened, "first, I need to understand this place. This continent… these people… everything feels displaced in time."
Since arriving in the village, a strange sensation had refused to leave her. It was as if she had stepped into another layer of reality entirely.Time itself felt slower, heavier, and the air was unusually clean, untouched.
The people were simple in behavior, almost disconnected from anything she recognized, and technology none of it existed here at all.
In the kitchen, Helena and her mother spoke in low voices while preparing the meal.
"Look at her, Mother," Helena said quietly. "She must have gone through a lot in that forest. She barely speaks… she's so withdrawn."
Her mother stirred the pot gently, glancing toward the other room. "She looks exhausted… and probably starving too. Let's eat with her."
Soon after, they brought the food out.
It was simple vegetable soup, freshly baked bread, and a plate of sliced fruit.
Yet for Stella, it felt far more valuable than any banquet she could remember.
After finishing her meal, Stella let out a small breath. The warmth spread through her body, slowly loosening the tension that had been sitting in her chest for days.
Helena had prepared a mattress on the floor for both of them. Once everything was cleaned up, she lay down beside Stella, who was still staring at the wooden ceiling above, lost in thought.
"I really appreciate everything," Stella said quietly. "If it weren't for you, I would've spent another night freezing in that forest."
Helena smiled softly, eyes half lidded with sleepiness, "It's nothing. I couldn't just leave you there."
She turned her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her expression.
"Right… how old are you, Alina?"
"Seventeen. You?"
Helena lifted her hands from under the blanket and started counting on her fingers, "fifteen… I think." She frowned slightly, as if even that number wasn't entirely certain.
A brief silence settled between them.
Stella broke it, "What about your father? Where is he?"
Helena hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly on the blanket, "my father… I don't really remember him. He died when I was three… at least, that's what Mother says." She paused, "she told me he left for his hometown in the west and never came back. Even Mother isn't originally from here. She came after they got married."
"I'm sorry."
Helena shook her head lightly, offering a small, practiced smile. "It's okay."
She brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
Minutes passed in comfortable silence.
Then Helena asked, "What about you? Did you come here with your parents?"
"No. I came with relatives."
"Oh…" Helena's tone softened, "they must be worried about you."
"Yeah… they probably are."
Soon after, Helena's breathing slowed. Within moments, she drifted into sleep.
Stella, however, remained awake.
I already feel bad for lying, she thought, staring into the darkness. But I don't have another option. Trusting people this quickly… isn't safe.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under, and she fell into a deep sleep.
Two weeks later.
Stella had been living with Helena and her mother ever since.
They refused to let her leave, insisting that someone would eventually come searching for her. She tried a few times to slip away quietly, but each attempt ended the same way, either Meryl or Helena would gently but firmly bring her back.
Over those two weeks, she learned the rhythm of the village, its customs, its habits, its unspoken rules.
She adapted quickly to the local dialect, and by helping Helena with daily chores, she gradually became a familiar presence among the villagers.
Most of them were simple, curious but not intrusive. They asked few questions and accepted her existence with quiet tolerance rather than suspicion.
One sunny afternoon, Stella was helping Meryl sort herbs in the kitchen when the front door suddenly swung open.
Helena rushed in, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with excitement.
"Mother! Have you heard the news?"
Meryl raised an eyebrow without stopping her work. "What news?"
"The caravan! It'll arrive in just a few days!"
Meryl's hands paused mid motion. Her gaze slowly lifted. "Oh… is that so?" Her voice lowered slightly, losing its earlier ease. Something in her expression shifted subtle, but heavy, as if an unseen weight had settled on her shoulders.
Stella noticed, but said nothing.
Unaware of the change, Helena continued enthusiastically, "Yes! We'll finally see Uncle Albert again after two whole years!"
Stella asked, "Which caravan are you talking about?"
Helena looked surprised,"You don't know?"
Stella quickly tried to smooth things over.
"Oh, well… actually, our village is in a hard-to-reach place, so hardly anyone ever passes through there. Besides, the weather is harsh too."
"It's a trade caravan," Helena explained, "they travel across the continent and stop in small towns like ours. They bring spices, fabrics, tools… anything you can imagine."
Stella's curiosity sharpened, "they come here often?"
"Once every two years," Helena said.
"But they also bring news from other regions. That's why everyone gets excited."
"And this Uncle Albert… he's part of it?"
Helena grinned, "Yes. He's not really my uncle by blood, but he's like family. One of the caravan leaders."
She paused for a moment, then added casually, almost without thinking, "maybe… he could help you find your way back."