When Lorelei opened her eyes, she found herself lying in a bed so soft that it felt foreign beneath her body. For a brief moment, she basked in the unfamiliar comfort, but her peace was short-lived. As she turned her head, she spotted a strange-looking man sitting beside her. Instinct took over. She scrambled backward, pressing herself against the wall like a wild animal locking eyes with its predator. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him.
But the man did not move. He remained silent, calmly peeling an apple in a slow, circular motion, completely unbothered by her panic. When he finished, he placed the knife and the plate on the table, then turned to her and asked, in a gentle voice:
"What is your name?"
Lorelei did not understand. The man scratched his head, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Guess we'll be starting from the bottom," he muttered.
He rose from the wooden chair and slowly approached her. Every inch of her being screamed danger. She backed away further, until she reached the very edge of the bed. The man kept advancing, and just as she was about to fall off, he reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back onto the matress.
He climbed onto the bed and, with deliberate slowness, repeated his question — this time using hand signs and exaggerated mouth movements.
"W H A T I S Y O U R N A M E."
He made sure to enunciate every letter clearly, shaping his lips as though he were speaking to a toddler.
Lorelei studied his gestures. It dawned on her: he was searching for the one word she could say without hesitation — her own name. It was the only remnant she had left of her parents, the only thing that still belonged to her.
"Lorelei," she whispered. "I'm Lorelei."
Something in the man's demeanor told her he meant no harm. Slowly, cautiously, the fear she felt in her body began to wash away. For the first time since her birth, she felt safe — or so she would have said, if she knew how to put it into words.
The man rose and handed her the apple, which he had cut into thin slices so she wouldn't choke. As soon as the scent of food hit her, she snatched it from his hands and devoured it hastily. It had been days since the townsfolk had chased her away, and she hadn't eaten a single bite since.
The man let out a soft chuckle.
"Slowly, slowly. It won't run away from you, I promise."
He left the room and gently closed the door behind him. From inside, Lorelei could hear his footsteps fading down the hallway.
Once she finished eating, she glanced down at her missing limb. It felt sore — a dull, distant ache — but not really painful. It was tightly wrapped in long, thin herbs that stung against her skin. She got up and limped toward the door, studying it curiously. It had a strange shape, nothing like the doors back in town. Those were rounded at the top, but this one was rectangular, made entirely of wood. It was the first time Lorelei had seen something like it. Everything beyond the boundaries of her old town was foreign to her now — as though an entirely new world had opened up the moment she stepped out.
The door handle was round and woody, matching the rest of the house, with a square-like carving around it. She took her time inspecting the room. On the table sat a pot of red flowers, the wooden chair the man had used, the stone knife he had peeled the apple with, and the wooden plate she had just eaten from, still resting on the bed.
The room was sparse and plain. Curiosity getting the better of her, Lorelei reached out and lightly touched the handle. The door creaked open slowly. She jumped back like a cat touched by water for the first time.
The man was standing right behind it. He laughed again and, using signs and gestures, showed her how to open a door properly. Once she understood, he taught her the word.
"T H I S I S A D O O R."
She repeated slowly: "Doror."
The man shook his head. Patiently, he repeated the word again and again, until finally, she said it correctly.
"Door."
"Good!" he praised.
He turned and walked away. Lorelei scrambled to her feet and followed him through the house, taking in everything she could see. Shelves lined every wall, each one filled with books. Paintings hung between them, and wherever she looked, all she saw were pages and frames. There were probably more books in this house than there had been in the entire town. Her eyes then landed on a table covered in strange, beautiful pendants. She approached them slowly, mesmerized. She had no idea what they were, but to her, they were breathtaking.
The man sat down at a nearby table and gestured for her to join him.
"T H I S I S A T A B L E."
Lorelei repeated: "Table."
She was learning quickly, and the man seemed genuinely delighted. He patted her head before she sat down, and for the first time, she felt truly at ease. He didn't glare at her. He didn't beat her. He didn't use her as a shield or a weapon. He didn't even seem curious about what had driven her so deep into the forest. All she could see in his crystal-clear eyes was pure kindness.
She sat beside him as he handed her a glass of milk. She drank it all in one go. When she finished, a small milk mustache clung to her upper lip. The man giggled, and so did she.
Soon, exhaustion took over, and she fell asleep right there on the table, softly murmuring the words he had taught her.
"Table... Door... Table... Door... Table..."
The man watched her sleep. He got up, quietly draped a fluffy, warm blanket over her, and placed a stuffed animal beside her. Even in her sleep, she clung to it unconsciously.