A week had passed since Rowan began working with the villager, collecting and selling fruit in a small nearby market. As the days went by, he decided to change part of his clothing, since everyone stared at him with curiosity because of his strange outfit. Even so, although he had earned some money, what he had was barely enough to buy bread and some fruit.
He had no place to sleep, so he spent his nights in a small cave in the forest, near the village. He knew it was dangerous. Every noise in the darkness kept him alert; the crack of a branch could mean some beast was wandering nearby. But so far, he had managed to survive.
Despite the exhaustion and hunger, Rowan didn't give up. He got another job with a villager who sold bread, and he also helped a man who remodeled houses in nearby villages. He didn't earn much from any of them, but at least it was enough to buy a bit more food and, luckily, he found a safer place to spend the nights: a small stable with horses.
The smell of hay and damp earth wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was better than sleeping out in the open. From his corner, among the horses, he watched the rain fall outside and thought about how much had changed since that day in his room.
"I guess this is what I have to live with," he sometimes murmured, with a faint, tired smile.
He knew he couldn't continue like this forever. He had to look for more jobs or a better opportunity—something that would give him a more decent life. For now, he was content with being able to eat and sleep under a roof. He didn't care much about clothes, but he had bought a few simple garments so he wouldn't stand out too much among the villagers.
That night, while the wind blew through the cracks of the stable, Rowan looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He didn't know if he would ever wake up from that "dream," or if he was truly trapped in that world. The only thing he was sure of was that as long as he kept breathing, he wasn't planning to give up.