She stopped a few steps away from him, close enough that Jason could see droplets still clinging to the ends of her dark hair and the faint sheen on her collarbone where the tunic had not quite dried her skin. The lake behind her lapped softly at the shore, slow and steady, like it had all the time in the world.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Her voice was calm. Curious. Not alarmed. That alone felt wrong. Anyone back home would have been shouting by now, demanding answers, calling for someone else. She just stood there, barefoot in the grass, waiting.
"Jason," he said automatically. The name came out before he had time to think about it. Then, after a beat, "I think I'm lost."
She tilted her head, studying him like he was something unexpected but not dangerous. Her eyes moved over his face, his clothes, the way he stood too stiff, like he was bracing for a hit. "You speak strangely," she said. "Your words bend in odd places."
"My accent?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. It is not from here."
Jason swallowed. His eyes flicked down, only for a second, before he forced them back up. He was suddenly aware of how he must look. Brown hair hanging messily over his forehead. Green eyes too bright, too exposed, like they were giving something away. He felt naked in a way that had nothing to do with clothes.
The simple tunic she had pulled on was thin linen, damp in places where it clung to her curves. It outlined the swell of her chest more than it hid it, the fabric shifting with each breath she took. A belt cinched her waist, emphasizing the flare of her hips beneath loose trousers that still carried darker patches along the inner thighs from the lake. Even dressed, she moved with the same easy grace he had seen moments ago, balanced and unbothered, like her body was something she trusted.
He blinked hard and looked at the grass.
"You're… um. You're dressed now," he said. The words sounded stupid the moment they left his mouth.
Her eyes widened slightly. Then she looked down at herself.
"Oh."
Her cheeks colored, faint but immediate. "I am sorry." She turned away at once, not rushed, not flustered. Just practical. "I did not think anyone would be here."
She walked toward a small pile of gear near the water's edge. Leather bracers lay folded together. A short cloak rested on a flat stone. A sheathed knife caught the light. Jason turned his back without thinking, staring out across the lake and focusing on the way the water reflected the sky, broken only by ripples near the shore.
"I was bathing," she added, as if that explained everything. "The mornings are warm today."
"Right," he said. "Yeah. That makes sense."
Behind him, fabric shifted. Leather creaked as she tightened the bracers around her forearms. Metal chimed softly, a clasp or buckle settling into place. The sounds felt strangely intimate, like he was intruding on something private even with his back turned.
"You are not from Tarn," she said.
The words landed heavier than he expected.
He hesitated. Too long.
"I do not remember much," he said finally. "I woke up in a field not far from here. That is all I know."
It was not the whole truth, but it was the safest shape he could give it.
She did not press him. That surprised him more than anything else so far.
"Then you are unlucky," she said after a moment. Her footsteps shifted in the grass. "Or perhaps fortunate. It is difficult to tell at first."
Jason shifted his weight and risked a glance over his shoulder. She was fastening the cloak at her shoulder now, fingers moving with practiced ease. The fabric settled over her body, covering most of what the damp tunic left exposed. It still clung in places, stubborn and revealing. She did not seem to notice. Or she simply did not care.
She caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. Not offended. Curious.
"You are tense," she said. "Are strangers treated poorly where you come from?"
The truth pressed against his teeth. School hallways. Laughter. A word spoken too loud. Earth. Another world. None of it felt survivable if he said it out loud.
"I do not remember where I am from," he said instead. "Only my name."
She studied him for a long moment, eyes searching his face like she was weighing something unseen. He forced himself to meet her gaze, even when the urge to look away crept back in.
"That happens," she said.
The answer caught him off guard. It was said without pity. Without suspicion. Just a statement of fact.
"You are in Tarn," she continued. "People do not usually end up here by accident."
Something about that settled heavy in his chest. Not fear exactly. More like the sense of stepping onto ground that might give way if he moved too fast.
"Tarn," he repeated, testing the word.
"Yes." Her mouth curved into a small, unguarded smile. "It is not far. You can walk with me."
Jason let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. His shoulders loosened a fraction.
She turned toward a narrow path leading away from the lake, barely more than pressed grass winding between low shrubs. Before she started down it, she glanced back over her shoulder. "You should not linger here. Someone might think you strange."
"Is that bad?" he asked.
She considered that, lips pursed in thought, then shrugged. "Sometimes."
She started walking.
Jason followed.
The path was uneven, grass brushing against his calves, the earth soft beneath his shoes. Birds called from somewhere deeper in the trees. Insects hummed lazily in the warm air. With each step away from the lake, the world felt more solid, less like something he might blink away.
He stayed a step behind her, close enough to follow but far enough not to crowd. His mind kept racing ahead, trying to piece together what came next. A village. People. Questions he could not answer. Lies he would have to keep straight.
Ahead, the trees thinned, and through the gaps he thought he could see rooftops, low and uneven against the sky.
Tarn.
Whatever that meant.