“Two days.” She ponders on this. “So, we’re pretty deep in the wilderness.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t know these mountains? Like, specifically where we are?”
I try to summon details. “There is a valley. Two peaks that mirror each other, like…” I form my hands into matching shapes. “Beyond that, a river that runs east.”
“You’ve seen this? Or you’re guessing?”
“I…” The frustration rises again, familiar and suffocating. “I know this. But I do not knowhowI know this.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. Not pity; something closer to recognition.
“The amnesia thing,” she says quietly. “You really don’t remember anything? Not where you’re from, or how you ended up here?”
“No.” The admission comes more easily this time. “I woke… I do not know when. Days ago. Perhaps longer. The mountain was simply… here. And I was in it.”
“That must be terrifying.”
The word strikes something in my chest. “Yes,” I say, because there’s no point in pretending otherwise. “But less so, now.”
“Now?”
“Speaking it aloud makes it…” I search for the right word. “More real. But also less consuming.”
She studies me with those sharp eyes. “You’ve been alone since you woke up? No one else around?”
“Yes. Until the iron bird fell.”
“The helicopter,” she corrects automatically, then catches herself. “Sorry. I shouldn’t give you a hard time. Your English is pretty good for a local.”
I shrug, again not knowing how to respond.
“Did you learn it in your village?” she prods. “I’m guessing you must have come from somewhere near here.”
I think on this for so long that my head starts to hurt. “I don’t know,” I say eventually, annoyed at hitting yet another block. “All I know is that the mountains feel like home, and some words are lost to me.”
“Probably because Romanian is your mother tongue and you’re speaking to me in English,” she says.
Sounds reasonable. “Perhaps.”
“What about your name? K… That’s all you’ve got?”
“It is all that remains.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then: “Well, K’s not bad. Short. Mysterious. Very ‘lone wolf in the mountains’ energy.”
Despite everything, my mouth twitches. “Lone wolf.”
“You know—solitary. Rugged. Probably really good at survival stuff.” She waves a hand. “The kind of person who can build a fire and hunt deer and has, like, seventeen wilderness badges.”
“I do not know what badges are.”
“Of course you don’t.” She laughs, and this time it sounds more genuine. “God, this is surreal. I’m explaining Boy Scouts to someone who literally lives in a cave.”
“I do not live here.” The clarification feels important. “I simply… found it. When I needed shelter.”
“Right. Because you woke up on a mountain with no memories and had to figure out survival from scratch.” She shakesher head. “That’s actually kind of incredible, K. Most people would’ve frozen to death or fallen off a cliff by now.”
