The path down the hill wound through trees that smelled of wet bark and moss.Eli walked ahead, pulling his small wooden cart, its iron wheels squeaking softly over the stones.He moved with the careful patience of someone used to long walks in silence.
I followed at a distance, unsure if he could truly see me or if this was something else — a vision, a punishment, or the final test of this cursed redemption.
The rain fell harder as we reached the edge of the town.The streets were narrow, the houses close, their windows glowing faintly in the dusk.Smoke rose from chimneys, carrying the scent of cooking and coal.It was not a place I recognized, and yet every detail felt painfully familiar — the slope of the roofs, the cracked stone bridge, even the crooked fence at the corner.
Eli stopped near a lamppost and looked back.His hair clung damp to his forehead, his cheeks flushed from the climb.
"You're following me," he said simply.
I hesitated."I don't mean harm."
He smiled, faintly, a little too old for his age.
"I know. You look… tired. Like you've been walking for a long time."
"I have," I said softly. "A very long time."
The boy studied me for a moment, then nodded as if he understood more than he should.He pointed down the road.
"My house is that way. You can come if you want. Mother doesn't like guests, but she won't mind if you stay by the fire."
He started walking again, the cart bumping gently behind him.I followed, my heartbeat slow and unsteady.
Every step felt heavier, as though I were walking not through the town, but through memory.