The weeks passed. The village settled into a rhythm, and I settled with it. Mornings with Marta and the chickens. Afternoons helping Rik or fixing things. Evenings at the river with Lora. Nights in the barn, looking at the stars.
I learned the names of the villagers. Old man Henrick who could not walk without a stick. Young Sara who dreamed of leaving Oakhaven. Tomas the baker who always gave me a warm roll even though I could not eat it. I kept the rolls anyway. They smelled good.
The village was poor, but not miserable. People had enough to eat. The children laughed. The adults worked. The false hero was a shadow in the distance, not a sword at their throats.
One morning, Marta said, "The harvest festival is in three days. You'll help, yes?"
"What's the harvest festival?"
"A day of thanks. We eat, we dance, we forget our troubles for a few hours."
"I don't dance."
"You will learn."
I doubted that. But I said yes.
That afternoon, I went to the river. Lora was already there, sitting on her rock. Her feet in the water.
"Ash," she said. "You're early."
"Finished work early."
She moved over, making room. I sat beside her.
"Marta told me about the harvest festival," I said.
"Everyone talks about it. It's the only time we celebrate."
"Do you like it?"
Lora shrugged. "It's fine. Lots of noise. Lots of people."
"You don't like noise."
"I don't like crowds. But I like the food."
"What food?"
"Roasted meat. Fresh bread. Honey cakes."
I had never tasted any of those things. Not in this body. But I imagined them.
"Will you be there?" I asked.
"I have to take care of my grandmother. But maybe for a little while."
"I'll save you a honey cake."
She laughed. "You can't eat, but you'll save me a cake?"
"I'll find a way."
She looked at me. Her grey eyes were soft. "You're strange, Ash."
"I know."
"Good strange."
We sat in silence. The river flowed. A heron stood on the far bank, still as a statue.
---
The day of the festival, the village transformed. Tables were set up in the square. Lanterns hung from ropes. A fire pit was dug near the well. People wore their cleanest clothes. Even the children had washed faces.
Marta put me to work. Carry this table. Move that bench. Fetch water for the cooking pot. I did not mind. The work kept my mind busy.
Rik found me near the well. "You're helping?"
"Marta asked."
"She asks everyone. Come, I want to show you something."
He led me to the edge of the square, where a large barrel sat on a cart. Inside was a brown liquid.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Ale. My father brewed it. You'll try some."
"I can't drink."
"You can pretend. Like with the bread."
I had never pretended to drink before. But I nodded.
By midday, the square was full. People laughed and talked. Children ran between the tables. A man played a flute. Another beat a drum. The music was simple, but it made me tap my foot.
I stood near the well, watching. I did not know what to do with myself. I was not used to crowds. Not used to happiness.
Rik's mother found me. "Ash, you're standing like a post. Come, sit with us."
She pulled me to a bench near the fire. Rik was there, and his father, and Lena. Lena was eating a honey cake, her face sticky.
"Ash!" she said. "Try the cake!"
"I can't eat," I said.
"You can pretend."
She held the cake up to my hood. I pretended to take a bite. She giggled.
"You're silly, Ash."
"Yes."
I looked around the square. People were dancing now, holding hands in a circle. The music was faster. The drummer was sweating.
Then I saw her. Lora. She stood at the edge of the square, near the baker's stall. She was wearing a clean dress, blue with white flowers. Her hair was brushed. She looked... different. Not prettier. Just more visible.
I walked over to her.
"You came," I said.
"Just for a little while."
"Would you like a honey cake?"
She smiled. "Yes."
I bought two from Tomas the baker. I gave one to Lora. She took a bite. Honey dripped on her chin.
"You have honey on your face," I said.
She wiped it with her sleeve. "Now you have to eat yours."
"I can't."
"Pretend."
I lifted the cake to my hood. I pretended to take a bite. Lora laughed. It was a real laugh, not quiet like the river. Loud and bright.
"You're ridiculous," she said.
"I know."
We stood together, watching the dancers. The sun was warm. The music was loud. I felt something I had not felt in years. Joy. Simple and small, but real.
Later, Rik brought me a cup of ale. "Drink," he said.
"I can't."
"Pretend."
I lifted the cup to my hood. I tilted it. Ale spilled down my front.
Rik laughed. "You're hopeless."
Lora took the cup from my hand. She drank the rest. "He's not hopeless," she said. "Just new."
Rik raised his eyebrows. He looked at me, then at Lora. "New, yes. That's one word."
He walked away, still laughing.
Lora handed me the empty cup. "Ignore him."
"I don't mind."
We walked to the edge of the square, away from the noise. The sun was lowering. The sky was orange.
"Thank you for coming," I said.
"I wanted to see you."
I did not know what to say to that. So I said nothing.
She touched my sleeve. Her fingers were warm.
"Ash," she said. "What's under your hood?"
I froze. No one had asked that. Not directly.
"Something strange," I said.
"I don't mind strange."
I hesitated. Then I reached up and pulled back the hood.
Lora looked at my face. The blank, smooth porcelain. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Just a pale oval.
She did not scream. She did not step back.
"You're not human," she said.
"No."
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
She looked at my face for a long time. Then she reached up and touched my cheek. Her fingers were warm on the cold porcelain.
"It's not scary," she said. "Just different."
"You're not afraid?"
"I was afraid of you before. When I first saw you at the river. But not anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because you helped the rabbit. And Rik. And Marta. You're kind. Kind is more important than a face."
I felt something in my chest. Not pain. Not warmth. Something deeper.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She pulled my hood back up. "You should keep it on. People are stupid."
"I know."
We walked back to the square. The dancing had stopped. People were eating. Lora's grandmother was sitting on a bench near the fire. Lora went to her.
I stood alone, watching the sunset.
The festival ended at nightfall. Lanterns were lit. The music slowed. People said goodnight and went home.
I helped Marta carry tables back to her shed. She was tired but happy.
"Did you have fun, Ash?" she asked.
"I think so."
"Good. You deserve fun."
I went to the barn. I lay on the straw. I looked at the stars.
I thought about Lora. Her warm fingers on my cheek. Her words: Kind is more important than a face.
I touched my chest. The core was still there. Still beating.
For the first time, I did not feel like a monster.
I felt like a person.
---
The next morning, I woke to chickens again. I helped Marta with the eggs. I did not break any.
Then I went to the river.
Lora was there, on her rock. Her feet in the water.
"You came," she said.
"I always come."
She moved over. I sat beside her.
The river flowed. The sun was warm. We did not speak.
We did not need to.