The old woman nods. Starts to turn away, then pauses. “One question, traveler. Do you dream?”
The shift in topic catches me off guard. “Yes.”
“And in these dreams… do you speak?”
The memory surfaces: waking to Mara’s touch, words I didn’t choose pouring from my mouth in a language I don’t remember learning.
“Yes,” I say carefully.
Something shifts in Dragana’s expression. Not quite fear. Not quite respect. Something between.
“Then you are close,” she says quietly. “Close to remembering. Be careful when you do. The past has teeth.”
She walks away before I can ask what that means.
Around us, villagers return to their work. But I feel their attention still—sideways glances, whispered conversations that stop when I turn.
They know something. Something about me. About what I am.
And they’re not telling.
Mara breaks the silence. “Well. That was cryptic and… unhelpful.”
“Yes.”
“Do you actually speak Romanian? Because that was—” She stops. Shakes her head. “Never mind. Of course you do. Mystery language in your sleep, Romanian when awake. Makes perfect sense.”
The weariness in her voice surprises me. I look at her and see exhaustion mixed with something else. Annoyance? Fear, maybe.
“Are you—?”
“I’m fine.” She cuts me off. The same clipped tone from the trail. “Can we just… I’m tired and cold and done with cryptic mountain people.”
She’s not fine. But I don’t push.
We cross to the building that the old woman indicated. Simple stone construction. Wooden door, weathered gray. One narrow window facing the square.
I push the door open.
Inside: one room dominated by a large stone hearth. Two sleeping pallets against opposite walls. A rough wooden table. Hooks for hanging clothes. A basin of water. Spare but clean.
And warm. Someone laid a fire before we arrived, flames crackling steadily.
Did they know we were coming?
Mara moves immediately to the hearth, hands extended toward the heat. She doesn’t look at me.
I close the door. Scan automatically: single entrance, window too small for entry, stone walls defensible. Safe enough.
Then I just stand there, uncertain.
I should say something. Break the tension. Apologize again, more genuinely this time.
But Mara speaks first. “I’m going to sleep.” Still won’t meet my eyes. “Wake me if the villagers decide to burn us as witches or whatever.”
“Mara—”
“I’m serious, K.” She finally looks at me, and the exhaustion in her face cuts deeper than anger would. “I just… I need to not talk right now. Okay?”
