I see it then. Not just tiredness. Hurt.
I did that. With my wrongness. My lack of control.
The knowledge sits heavy in my chest.
“Okay,” I say quietly. Because what else can I offer?
She settles onto the pallet. Pulls a rough blanket over herself. Turns to face the wall.
Dismissed.
I deserve it. I know I do.
But standing here, watching her retreat into sleep rather than trust me…
It… cuts.
I move to the window. Look out at the village square. People moving about their evening tasks. Normal. Peaceful.
But watching us. I see it in the way they angle their bodies, keeping the cabin in peripheral vision.
They have answers.
The old blood,the elder said.Your kind.
What kind?
What am I that makes them wary despite offering shelter?
I press my palm against the cold glass, trying to make the pieces fit.
The power of the mountain that feels like it’s fueling me. The pull I felt—connecting me to someone far away who needed help. The heat beneath my skin. My body’s “wrong” capabilities. The way fire didn’t burn Mara when it should have consumed her.My instinctive knowledge of terrain and tactics and languages I don’t remember learning.
And now this: a village that recognizes what I am on sight.
All connected. All pieces of something I’m not seeing.
Blood knows,the old woman said.
But what if the blood is all I have? What if memory never returns and I’m left with only these fragments, these instincts without context?
What if I never learn who I was before I woke in these mountains?
The questions circle endlessly.
Behind me, I hear Mara’s breathing even out. Exhaustion claiming her despite the tension between us. Her body still heals. I can’t let myself forget that.
I should rest too. Tomorrow will bring… what? More vague non-answers? Recognition without explanation?
I move away from the window. Add wood to the fire. Check that the door is secure.
Then I settle onto the second pallet, back against the stone wall, where I can watch both the entrance and Mara.
Old habits. Strategic positioning from training that I don’t remember.
Who were you?I ask the emptiness where my past should be.And what will I become when I finally remember?
No answer comes.
