"That's what I want," Stella said, a faint smile touching her lips.
She paused, just long enough to seem uncertain.
"...though I'm not sure if it's the right decision."
Albert studied her quietly.
"You should go home," he said. "Your parents must be worried."
Stella lowered her gaze, as if considering his words carefully.
"If I leave… and someone comes looking for me here…" she said, letting the sentence trail off.
"They will find the villagers," Albert replied calmly. "They'll hear what there is to hear."
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
For a brief moment, something tightened in her chest.
Did he mean more than that?
"But…" she began again.
"It's been a month," Albert interrupted, his tone firm but measured. "No one has come. If they were searching for you… they would have found you by now."
The words settled heavily.
Dead… or forgotten.
Stella's fingers curled slightly against her sleeve.
"So," he continued, watching her, "will you stay here forever?"
The question was simple, but it felt deeper than that.
"...I'll go with you," she said at last.
Albert smiled, though his eyes remained thoughtful.
"I see."
"Thank you, sir," she added, her voice steady now.
"We leave in three days," he said. "At dawn. Meet us in the square."
Three days later, Stella packed her belongings.
Dawn had barely broken when they reached the village square.
Tears were on the edge of Helena's eyes as she talked to her, "Goodbye Alena, take care of yourself," and she hugged her.
"That's why I don't like goodbyes." Stella thought.
Meryl placed a gentle hand on Stella's head.
"I hope you reach your family safely," she said softly. "May you all be protected."
Stella nodded, unable to trust her voice.
Guilt pressed heavily against her chest.
Albert approached, breaking the moment.
"Helena," he said lightly, "you haven't changed. Still crying so easily."
Helena laughed weakly and hugged him.
"Take care of yourself."
The farewells ended, and the caravan began to move.
From the carriage, Stella looked back.
Helena and Meryl were still there… waving.
Stella thought about this month that spent with them, if she hadn't met Helena in the forest, what would have happened to her ?
She was grateful to them for everything from the bottom of her heart, and at the same time she has a feeling of guilt for lying to them.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Stella sat quietly, thinking about everything that had happened since she arrived in this place.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the boy sitting beside her.
He looked about twelve years old, small in size and a little chubby. His face was soft and friendly.
"Are you from this village?" he asked.
"No," Stella replied.
Before he could say anything else, someone grabbed his ear.
"Ow! Mother, stop!"
A woman, clearly his mother, was holding him firmly. She looked tired and annoyed.
"Didn't I tell you not to bother people when I'm resting?" she said.
"I'm sorry!" the boy shouted.
The woman turned to Stella.
"I'm sorry, Miss. This child is always causing trouble."
"It's fine," Stella said, "No problem."
The boy quickly protested.
"I wasn't bothering her!"
His mother ignored him.
His name was John, and his mother was Alma, one of the merchants in the caravan.
She was the only woman traveling with them, so Albert had arranged for her to share the carriage with Stella for safety and comfort.
After a while, Alma fell asleep again.
John stayed awake and started talking to Stella.
He told her stories about past caravan journeys, storms, delays, and difficult roads.
Stella listened carefully. Every detail could be useful to understand this continent better.
By the end of the day, the caravan stopped to rest. The sun had already set, and the horses needed a break.
A man approached the carriage.
"Mrs. Alma, we will rest here tonight. We leave at dawn."
Alma woke up and asked, "Where are we now?"
"We passed the Willow Forest," he answered.
Her expression changed immediately.
"Don't tell me we're near that village… You did find another place to stop, right?"
The man hesitated.
"The horses are tired… and most people are hungry. Mr. Albert agreed to stop here."
Alma sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead.
"Great… just great."
Stella watched quietly.
Which village was this? Why was everyone reacting like this?
She turned to John to ask him.
But his face had changed. He looked pale.
She nudged him.
"Hey… why is everyone so nervous? What's wrong with this place?"
John froze.
"You… don't know?"
"No. I'm not from around here. Just tell me."
He hesitated.
"I'll tell you… but don't say that name in front of my mother."