The clouds hung heavy and motionless over the edge of the old clearing. The tall treetops looked like black teeth stretching toward the pale light of early morning. The air was cool, with a hint of impending rain that never fell. Kael sat on a moss-covered stone, a piece of dried bread in his hand, which he didn't really eat. He chewed mechanically, staring into nothingness.
Here, in this forgotten corner of the island world, silence was more than the absence of noise—it was like an old animal that nestled close, lurking, breathing.
And then someone spoke.
"That doesn't look very tasty."
Kael didn't turn around immediately. The voice was clear, young, maybe twelve. No hesitation in it, just curiosity. A curiosity that made him suspicious.
"Are you following me?" he asked dryly.
"I saw you first." A short pause. "So... doesn't that count as finding you?"
Now he turned around slowly.
A girl was standing there. Barefoot. Her clothes were dirty, tattered, but not randomly so. Someone had once dressed her with care. Her hair was long and messy, a dark brown that looked almost black. And her eyes—too clear for a child, too alert.
"What's your name?" she asked, as if she had every right to an answer.
"You should go," Kael said instead, turning away again.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not going to help."
"Have you ever helped anyone before?"
His fingers clenched around the bread. He exhaled through his nose, slowly, quietly. No emotion. No reaction.
"Go."
But she stayed. He heard her coming closer—barefoot, but sure of her steps.
"Do you live here?"
Silence.
"I saw you yesterday. You buried a deer. Only people who aren't completely cold do that."
Kael remained silent. His eyes fixed on a point in the haze.
"I'm Llora," she finally said. "With two L's."
He looked at her now. Directly. For a moment, something flickered in his gaze—almost like recognition. And then it was gone again.
"Kael," he muttered, almost reluctantly.
She sat down. Not next to him, but opposite him, on a fallen tree trunk. She pulled her knees up to her chest. A thin film of dirt covered her skin, but her gaze was fearless.
"You have this... silence around you," she said. "As if you've put yourself somewhere else."
"Maybe I have."
"Why?" she asked directly.
"Because it's better."
"For whom?"
Kael didn't look at her. But something stirred inside him. Her way of asking questions was not childishly naive—rather clear, penetrating. As if she already knew the answers before she heard them.
"You really should go, Llora. It won't get any better if you stay."
"For you or for me?"
He was silent.
She took a deep breath. It wasn't a sigh, more like a gathering of courage.
"I wasn't looking for you, you know? I just... ran. Away. And then you were there."
"Then keep running."
"I can't." A flicker crossed her face. For a moment, she wasn't just defiant or curious, she was simply... tired. Too tired for her age.
Kael noticed it. And that was the real problem.
"Did you lose someone?" she asked suddenly.
He raised an eyebrow. Looked at her, searching.
"Or was it you who got lost?"
A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps a bitter smile. Perhaps just a reflex.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because you're like me."
"You're a child."
"And so were you."
A breeze blew across the clearing. Leaves rustled softly. Kael stood up, turned to the side, reached for an old water hose, and drank. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Her presence was not accidental—he could sense that. Not because she was looking for him. But because something... was guiding her.
"How long have you been traveling?" he asked without looking at her.
"I don't know. Two days? Three? It feels like an eternity."
"Why did you run away?"
"Because otherwise I would have hurt someone."
Now he was silent. He looked slowly at her. Her words had fallen softly, but they were full of truth. No drama. No games. Just... a confession.
"Was it you? The fire three nights ago?" he asked.
She looked away. Not a yes. But not a no either.
"I didn't want it to happen," she said. "But... I couldn't stop it. It's just... inside me. And it gets hotter when I'm scared. Or angry."
Kael closed his eyes for a moment.
"You're burning."
"Not on the outside. On the inside."
He nodded almost imperceptibly. The expression in his eyes changed. Something understood. Something remembered.
"It's dangerous if you stay," he said.
"It's more dangerous if I leave."
"For whom?"
"For everyone."
She stood up now. Her feet were dirty but firmly planted on the ground. Her shoulders were narrow but straight.
And then she said the sentence that really hit him:
"You used to be like me, didn't you? Only... no one held you back."
Kael didn't answer right away. Then he said,
"I had someone. A brother. And I lost him."
She lowered her gaze.
"I don't have anyone."
He looked in her direction. For a moment, images flashed before his inner eye: a smile, a hand on his head, a boy laughing as he fought with wooden swords. And then—smoke. Blood. Fire.
"You should sleep. If you want, you can stay here. For one night."
"And tomorrow?"
"Then we'll see."
"Does that mean yes?"
"Does that mean you'll stop talking?"
She grinned—not cheekily, but with relief.
"I can try."