The new bed, a rough, scratchy thing, was still a refuge. It wasn't the softness I remembered, but it beat the cold earth of my first nights in Vieja Ellivio. Now settled, however briefly, in the town of Merauth, a day of hunting lay ahead, and with it, the possibility of seeing Maria.
I dressed and hurried out. The morning air was already thick with the sounds of the orphanage—the rustle of identical dresses, the cries of children, and the low, serious tones of men at the table. Jess was talking to Joe and Ald, the big man with the shield.
"Miro! You… come… fight." Jess's finger stabbed at a sketch of a fierce pig.
Joe rumbled a string of their unintelligible language. The sounds were like gravel rattling in a barrel. I need their words, I thought, the desire for understanding a physical ache. "Fight? Learn?"
"Yes, fight," Jess confirmed.
A rush of adrenaline washed over the uncertainty. This was it—the life I was supposed to be living now. The adventure. "Yeah!"
They cheered, and Jess gave me a rare, firm tap on the back. Then came the plan, a rapid-fire torrent of incomprehensible syllables that dissolved into the single, agreed-upon word: "Ittan." We were going to the market, or maybe the woods. It didn't matter. I followed.
We stepped outside. There she was. Maria.
She was late, running, but her smile was a beacon—a brilliant, impossible light against the drab morning.
"Hello!"
"Hi!" "Hello!"
She addressed me, her voice pure music: "All *@+∆$ going?"
I could only return a blank look, drinking in the sound. The language barrier was an iron cage, but through the bars, her presence was a constant, distracting pull.
The Shouting Seamstress
Their discussion continued, full of words like forest and the creature called 'kabbab'. The beast was supposedly worse than the 'dorbab' that nearly killed Jess and me. Now, four of us were needed for one.
Maria led us through the quiet town to a small, unassuming garment store—just a hut surrounded by potted plants and a few wandering ducks.
"Tot! Ayan ni teng Jannet n?" she called to a young boy playing nearby.
He pointed behind the hut. Maria left. Jess, Joe, and Ald immediately found rocks to sit on. I did the same, trying to appear useful, trying to mimic their patient waiting.
Maria returned with Jannet, a middle-aged woman.
"#%#/!! , ∆££÷℅©!!" Jannet exploded, her voice a sharp, resentful yell aimed entirely at Maria.
"Yes, yes, yes…" Maria replied calmly, as if this was how one asked for the sugar. The men didn't even flinch. It was a bizarre, everyday ritual of rage and acceptance.
Then, the sudden shift: "!! @₹+ /₹)+!! Hahahaha!!!" Jannet roared with laughter, her mood swinging violently. I wondered if this world was simply mad.
Before I could puzzle out her temperament, she snatched a long men's tunic from the store and held it out to me. A seller, a customer, no money. Panic seized me. I had nothing to trade, nothing to pay. But the three men, and Maria, were watching. I had to take it.
The garment was thick, a stiff animal hide dyed a dull brown. It was utilitarian, covering me to the knees, secured by a waist strap. It was the same simple, tough clothing Jess, Joe, and Ald wore. It was a gift, a loan, or a tax I didn't yet understand, but it was protection for the looming hunt.
With a shouted thanks to Jannet, we headed into the wilderness.
Hunting with Slingshots
We walked the rocky path until we reached a wide, grassy field at the forest's edge. Jess, Joe, and Ald melted into the trees. I chose a patch of thick brush, hiding and watching. Jess moved quietly, laying out several scrolls on the ground, sticky-looking parchment meant to ensnare.
The silence broke with a loud crack.
The men drew their weapons. I stared in disbelief. They all held slingshots. Against a monster bigger and tougher than a 'dorbab,' they carried simple slings. Where were the swords, the axes?
The kabbab appeared: a pig with a massive, terrifying jaw, charging with blind fury.
The stones flew, a relentless storm of small projectiles aimed with laser focus at the beast's head. It stumbled, its movement suddenly hampered by one of Jess's scrolls adhering to its foot. The monster roared in pain and confusion, its efforts to run only making the scroll tear at its skin. The men kept up the assault, exploiting the scroll's distraction, not using it as a weapon itself.
I was left on the sidelines, weaponless. All I could do was observe their lethal, coordinated discipline. Finally, the kabbab collapsed. Jess, knife in hand, secured the kill with a quick, practiced thrust to the neck.
I helped them butcher the beast. I took the brown skin, Jess the bones, and Joe and Ald wrestled with the heavy meat.
The trip home was slow, not just because of the weight, but because they stopped frequently on the grassy patches to gather herbs. When we finally reached Merauth, young people rushed out to help. The meat went to the house where I stayed; the bones to Jess's; and the skins—the black dorbab skin and the new brown kabbab skin—went to Jannet's shop. The clothes we wore were clearly their lifeblood.
Jess stopped me when I tried to return the new tunic. It was mine, a permanent necessity.
The Orphanage and the Unanswered Questions
The house of my stay, I learned, was an orphanage. This was the reason for the constant commotion, and the destination for all the community's effort and food. Why did they rely solely on hunting and community charity? Was there no government? The questions were endless, and unaskable.
Another, more personal mystery haunted me: I wasn't hungry. We had a meager breakfast and skipped lunch, yet my stomach felt calm. Why did my body no longer crave food, and if it didn't, why did we eat a communal dinner at all?
Dinner was a loud, happy event surrounded by children. We ate the kabbab meat quietly, conversation drowned out. Afterward, we washed in the cold spring. I listened enviously as Jess, Joe, and Ald talked, their words forming a rich, detailed narrative of the day that I could only watch from the outside.
I helped Maria clean up before finally returning to my rough bed.
Lying there, the day's events settled into a single, aching realization. I am here, my body is different, my language useless, and my future an absolute blank.
Why don't I feel hunger? If I don't need to eat, what powers me? Is there any way back? Who am I in this world, and why?
Exhaustion finally silenced the torrent of questions. Tomorrow, perhaps, one will yield an answer. I surrendered to sleep.