Shortly after the air hostess served Patra a light meal, the food seemed to soothe her nerves, and she drifted into a deep, untroubled sleep. But her slumber was cut short by the crackling announcement from the cockpit: they would be landing in thirty minutes.
Groggily, Patra blinked her eyes open, adjusting to the reality around her. As she looked around, she noticed other passengers pulling on thick, heavy clothing—puffed jackets and layered fabrics. Confusion clouded her mind. Why were they bundling up so strangely? The sight made her frown as she tried to understand their behavior.
The air hostess, ever attentive, noticed Patra's discomfort and approached her with a gentle smile. "Hello, do you need assistance?" she asked softly.
Patra glanced up at her, still dazed and clueless. "What… are they doing?" she asked cautiously, unsure of the customs in this unfamiliar world.
"The temperature in Canada is much lower than in Egypt," the hostess explained kindly. "You need to cover up too. Do you have anything warm with you? A jacket, perhaps?"
Patra's brow furrowed further. "I don't know," she replied, her voice uncertain.
The hostess gave her a reassuring smile. "Let me check your bags, just in case." She crouched down, gently rummaging through Patra's belongings, only to find nothing suitable. With a slight frown, she straightened up. "It looks like you didn't pack a jacket with you—maybe it's in your other luggage. Don't worry, I'll ask around with the crew and see if anyone has an extra one for you."
She offered Patra one last comforting look before walking down the aisle to check with her peers.
Patra started after her, her thoughts racing. The unfamiliarity of it all was overwhelming. The concept of "Canada," this strange new land, the cold—none of it made sense. She whispered quietly to herself, "What is a jacket?"
The word felt foreign, strange on her tongue, like something from another time—another life. The weight of her deception grew heavier as she realized just how much of this world was still unknown to her.
The air hostess soon returned, holding a soft woolen shawl in her hands. She offered it to Patra with a kind smile. "I could only find this. It'll help a little, but you'll need a proper jacket once we land. You can buy one at the store or ask your relatives to bring one for you." With a final nod, she walked away, leaving Patra more confused than before.
Patra stared at the shawl, rubbing her temples in frustration. Everything here is strange, she thought, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar customs and objects. "I don't know how I'm going to survive this," she murmured under her breath, feeling a sinking dread in the pit of her stomach.
The plane soon touched down, and one by one, passengers began filing out of the aircraft. Patra hesitated but followed, her movements mechanical as she mimicked the others. As soon as she stepped outside, the bitter chill hit her like a wall. The air was harsh, freezing against her skin, and now she understood why the other passengers had bundled themselves in thick layers.
Her borrowed shawl offered little protection against the unforgiving cold, barely shielding her from the icy gusts. Patra shivered violently, clutching the fabric tighter around herself, but it was no match for the harsh weather of this new land.
The guards ushered her and the other passengers toward the waiting area where their luggage would be collected. Patra scanned her surroundings, her heart pounding with unease. The lights were blinding, far too bright, and the towering structures and screens filled with fast-moving images only added to her disorientation.
Fear gnawed at her. This world… it's not mine, she thought. In her own era, she had been a queen—respected, feared, bowed to by all. But here, everything felt alien, beyond her control. The technology, the advanced systems she couldn't even begin to comprehend, made her feel powerless in a way she had never experienced before.
The cold wasn't the only thing hostile about this world—it was the very nature of it, a tangled web of strange devices and customs that made her feel utterly lost. For the first time in a long while, Patra felt fear rising within her, the weight of the unknown pressing down on her.
How am I supposed to find my place in this world? she wondered, clutching the shawl as if it could protect her from more than just the cold.
Patra rubbed her hands together, trying to bring warmth to her icy fingers. The biting cold was unlike anything she had ever experienced. In her time, she had known only the unforgiving heat and relentless droughts. This strange new world, with its freezing temperatures and thick fog of breath escaping from everyone's mouths, felt alien. Her eyes wandered, taking in the other passengers, bundled in protective gloves, beanies, and thick coats, all of them shielded from the cold in a way she was not.
It was both fascinating and unsettling. The concept of cold weather—something she had never felt in her previous life—was now a stark reality. Her gaze shifted to the conveyor belt, where the luggage moved in a steady stream. Suitcases of all shapes and sizes circled past, and suddenly, she spotted the one she had brought with her. Mimicking the actions of others, she watched them closely, noting how they deftly retrieved their bags.
With some hesitation, Patra reached out, gripping the handle of her suitcase and pulling it off the belt. She chuckled softly to herself—a small triumph in this strange new world. It was a minor achievement, but one that filled her with a brief moment of pride. I can do this, she thought. However, her joy quickly dissolved into fear, and her heart began to race. What was she supposed to do next?
In this vast, unfamiliar place, she was utterly alone. She glanced around at the people moving past her, each one hurrying toward their destination. They appeared focused, preoccupied, and indifferent to her presence. In the camp, Denise had been there, offering guidance and comfort. But here, in this foreign land of Canada, no one seemed to notice her struggle. Everyone seemed to be in their own world, too busy to extend a helping hand.
The weight of isolation pressed down on her. She clutched her suitcase tightly, feeling the overwhelming sense of vulnerability creeping in. What if I make a mistake? she wondered, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The sharp contrast between the chaotic crowd and her own confusion made her feel like a lost child. The reality of her situation sank in—Denise wasn't here to guide her anymore. She would have to find her own way, without the familiar faces she had relied on back in the camp.
For a moment, Patra stood frozen, unsure of her next move. The hustle and bustle of the airport felt like an impenetrable wall of noise and movement, but deep down, she knew that no one was going to step in and guide her. The thought was daunting, but it also stirred something within her. I survived worse before… I can survive this, she reminded herself.
Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on the suitcase and took a step forward, prepared to face the unknown on her own terms.
Patra stepped outside the airport, the cold biting at her exposed skin, and found herself surrounded by unfamiliar vehicles standing in neat queues. The sight stirred a distant memory from her time in Egypt—these were the modern means of transportation in this world. The thought of hiring one crossed her mind, but she hesitated, unsure where to go. The identity she had stolen was nothing more than a name and a vague history. She knew nothing about the girl's life or where she might be expected.
Standing still wasn't an option either. The longer she lingered, the more suspicious she would appear. To survive in this new world, Patra had to blend in, disappear into the flow of life around her. She watched others as they quickly hailed cabs, slipping into them with ease. Mimicking their movements, she raised her hand and stopped a cab. Her heart pounded as she opened the door and hopped inside, doing her best to appear confident and composed, though her mind raced with uncertainty.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. Patra felt his suspicion and knew that her behavior might have seemed off to him. She was trying too hard to seem natural. The driver's hand reached up, adjusting the mirror so he could watch her more closely. "Where do you want to go?" he asked, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.
Patra hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing her words. "Any place I can stay," she replied, her voice steady yet cautious. She couldn't afford to make any mistakes.
The driver raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by her vague request. "You don't have a specific place in mind?"
Patra forced a small smile, trying to mask her anxiety. "I… I just arrived. I need a place to rest." It wasn't entirely a lie, but the truth was far more complicated than she could ever explain.
The driver remained quiet for a moment, still watching her carefully. Patra could sense the gears turning in his mind, weighing whether to trust her or not. She sat still, gripping the edge of her seat, knowing that her every move was being scrutinized. She needed him to believe her, to get her out of this place before her uncertainty attracted too much attention.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the driver nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll take you to a hotel nearby. It's not far from here." He shifted the car into gear and pulled away from the airport curb.
Patra leaned back into the seat, her body still tense but grateful to be moving. As the city streets blurred past her window, she tried to calm her racing thoughts. The fear of the unknown gnawed at her, but she knew she had to stay focused. This world might be foreign, and she might not know where she was going, but one thing was certain: she had no choice but to adapt, to survive.