As soon as Kael moved away from the wall, he began to move through the narrow alley with measured steps. His feet touched the ground carefully, as if any sound could reveal his presence. Night had settled over the village—not complete darkness, but a soft stillness broken only by faint lights slipping through closed windows.
He slowly raised his gaze.
The alley stretched between closely packed stone houses, their walls unadorned, simple... yet solid and clean, as if those who lived here feared nothing. The doors were firmly shut, but without visible locks, and some of the windows were half open, a warm light spilling out from them...not carrying tension, but a quiet life continuing behind the walls.
He stopped for a second.
He listened.
No shouting...
No commands...
No guards yelling through the streets...
Only distant murmurs, a few footsteps, and the breathing of a village that slept without fear.
He lowered his gaze slightly and said inwardly:
"Strange..."
He took another step, his eyes moving between details, observing, comparing without realizing it.
"Not like... Doron."
The name passed through his mind with weight.
The city of Doron.
It had not been like this.
There, even in the quietest nights, silence was never comforting—it was tense, as if something could happen at any moment. Guards stood at every corner, their eyes never sleeping, and the sounds of orders never faded. People walked quickly, avoiding eye contact, as if they had learned that silence did not mean safety.
But here...
In Farin...
The calm was different.
Not cautious... but natural.
Kael stopped again and slowly turned his head toward one of the side alleys, where faint light slipped from an open window, accompanied by the soft laughter of a child.
He remained watching for a moment.
Then he said in a very low voice, barely audible:
"How do they live like this...?"
The question was not admiration.
Nor was it mockery.
It was something in between...
Something he could not name.
He tightened his shoulders slightly, as if the very thought was uncomfortable, then immediately refocused.
"It doesn't matter."
He lowered his head and resumed moving, more cautious this time.
"This place is safe for them... not for me."
He slipped through the shadows, choosing narrow paths, avoiding any source of light, stopping at every corner before crossing it, as if his entire body had become a single eye watching.
His breathing began to steady gradually, but the exhaustion did not fade.
He raised his hand for a moment, looking at the mark—
It was dormant.
Without any trace of energy.
He tightened his fingers slightly, then lowered his hand quickly.
"I have to rely on my mind now."
He stopped suddenly.
Ahead of him, at the end of the alley—
A half-open door.
It was not the door of a house.
Closer to... a stable.
A faint light inside, no clear sound.
He took a step closer.
Then another.
He stopped before reaching it.
Tilting his head slightly, he looked through the narrow opening, trying to see inside without revealing himself.
No movement.
No sound.
Stillness.
He remained still for a moment, then whispered to himself:
"An enclosed place... unguarded... that's enough for now."
He lifted his gaze once more, making sure the alley behind him was empty.
Then he slowly extended his hand—
And pushed the door.
The door moved slightly under his careful push, letting out a faint sound barely audible. Kael immediately froze, holding his breath, listening carefully. No sound came from inside. Slowly, very slowly, he pushed the door further until it opened just enough for him to pass, then slipped inside lightly and closed it behind him without making noise.
The air inside the stable was different—heavier, filled with the scent of hay and animals, warmer compared to the cool night outside. He stood still for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the dim light, then gradually began to make out his surroundings.
Simple wooden walls.
A floor covered with a layer of hay.
And in the opposite corner, a large ostrich sat quietly, its feathers slightly puffed, and beside it a smaller one, asleep.
He took a step forward, then stopped immediately.
The sight was not alarming... but it did not give him any sense of safety either.
His gaze shifted quickly, searching for a place to hide, until it fell upon a narrow corner behind a pile of hay. He moved toward it with great caution, crouched down, pulled some hay to cover part of his body, leaned his back against the wall, and closed his eyes for only a second—then opened them immediately, as if refusing to give in.
When he finally settled—
He breathed.
Slowly.
Then he raised his hand.
Looked at it.
A clear change.
The color was pale.
The skin tighter than it should be.
He ran his fingers over it, then over his face, as if checking himself.
"This change is getting worse... the more my energy runs out, the more my body loses its balance. If this continues, I won't be able to maintain myself as I am."
He lowered his hand and stared ahead for a few moments in silence, then lifted his gaze toward an opening in the roof, where starlight slipped softly into the stable.
"I need to find food... tomorrow, no matter how. If I continue like this, I'll weaken quickly... and I won't even be able to run if the worst happens."
He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes remaining open for a moment, watching the ceiling, the light, the darkness—as if his mind refused to rest.
"One night only... I'll endure it... then I move."
He fell silent for a moment, then looked into the darkness ahead and added:
"I have nowhere else... and I know nothing about this village."
He tilted his head back against the wood, then said as if speaking to himself:
"I need to rest now... tomorrow I decide."
Finally, he closed his eyes.
But his body did not fully relax.
He remained tense—ready to wake at any sound, any movement, any danger that might come near.
The calm did not last long.
At first, it was only a faint feeling... something unclear, as if the silence had shifted slightly without reason, as if the place itself was no longer as still as it had been moments before.
Kael opened his eyes slowly.
He did not move.
He remained exactly where he was, his breathing light, only his eyes moving within the darkness.
Then he saw it.
The small ostrich.
It was standing.
Right in front of him.
It was no longer asleep like it had been before.
It was looking at him.
Directly at him... at the corner where he was hiding.
Kael froze completely.
He did not blink.
He did not move.
Even his breathing stopped for a moment, as if he feared that even the sound of it could be enough to expose him.
The ostrich tilted its head slowly.
Then held it still.
As if it were trying to understand.
As if it had noticed something that should not be there.
Kael felt as though the distance between them had shortened, even though it had barely moved—just two steps... perhaps less—but it was enough to make him feel that his presence was no longer as hidden as he believed.
He swallowed his breath with difficulty, then whispered in a voice barely audible:
"Don't move... please."
It kept staring.
It made no sound.
If it had cried out, everything would have ended quickly.
But its silence was longer... heavier.
It took another step.
A faint sound of hay beneath its foot.
Kael pressed his hand against the ground, his entire body tense, his eyes locked on it. He had no choice, no other place to go.
"Stop..."
he whispered again, this time with a tone closer to pleading.
"Come on... go back... go to your mother..."
It raised its head higher.
Then—
It made a soft sound.
A small sound... but enough to make his heart jump.
Kael's eyes widened.
"No..."
But before he could move or do anything—
He heard another sound from the other side.
Deeper.
Heavier.
From behind.
The mother.
The small one turned immediately, as if something had pulled it, and hurried back in small steps toward her mother, who moved her head slightly before settling it again near her wing.
Kael remained where he was.
He did not move at once.
He kept staring at the spot where it had been moments ago, as if he could not believe it had moved away so simply.
Then—
He released a heavy breath, as if it had been trapped in his chest for a long time.
He raised his hand to his chest.
"That... was too close."
He said it in a low voice, but it was not calm.
It was tense. Sharp.
He kept watching them for a few seconds. Then he crawled forward slightly, until he could see through the gaps in the hay and wood. The small one had returned to her mother, and after a few minutes, she seemed to settle.
"If I stay here... she'll discover me."
He fell silent for a moment.
Then added, this time in a firm tone:
"I have to move tomorrow... there's no other choice."
He returned to his place.
But this time, he did not close his eyes.
He stayed like that until morning—alert, listening to every movement, every faint sound coming from outside the stable or within it.