"Wait."
The old man with the hoe, frowning, stopped walking as Soren was about to move away.
"On second thought, I won't let a stranger wander around the village alone." He muttered, casting a wary glance. "I'll accompany you to the elder's house. It wouldn't be right to leave you loose."
'Oh…'
Soren swallowed hard, nodding silently as the old man led the way. He thought about starting a conversation with him, but quickly abandoned the idea.
The fog enveloped everything like a thin cloak. The air was cold and damp, filled with the smell of wet earth and vegetation that filled his nostrils with every breath.
The old man walked ahead, the hoe swinging at his side, creating a rhythmic, gentle sound. Soren watched his feet, leaving prints in the dirt. Finally, they arrived at the main entrance. The simple reinforced wooden gate stood slightly ajar, allowing Soren to see the dirt path stretching towards the first houses.
The houses, made of stone and wood, had low, sloping roofs covered in moss, and some even seemed to lean against each other.
It was a sight that Soren, a city boy, was not accustomed to seeing every day. His gaze wandered over the buildings, memorizing every detail with curiosity.
As Soren passed through the gate, he noticed the silence. He didn't see anyone in the streets, as if the village had been abandoned.
The windows were closed, and the only movement came from the breeze gently rustling the leaves of the trees growing in one corner.
While they walked, the old man suddenly stopped, causing Soren to nearly bump into him.
The man looked over his shoulder, his small, suspicious eyes fixed on Soren.
"We've arrived." He said in a low tone.
Soren nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension as he looked at what lay before him.
They stopped in front of a simple house.
It had a thick wooden door reinforced with iron bars, and the walls were made of solid stone, covered in worn vines.
The old man knocked several times on the door and crossed his arms, waiting.
Soren didn't speak at that moment either. He stood patiently beside him.
After a long silence, footsteps could be heard from the other side, and the door creaked open, revealing a figure.
Soren barely contained his shock upon seeing him.
If the old man with the hoe seemed to have seen many seasons, this figure appeared to be rooted in time itself.
He was thin, with skin wrinkled and dry like raisins. His white beard and hair fell in long strands, and his black eyes were dull but observant.
The elder smiled upon recognizing the old man. "Ah, Durand." He said, his voice hoarse but warm. "It's too early for you to be back, isn't it?"
'Durand?' Soren memorized the name and silently stood by, waiting his turn.
Durand shrugged, casting a meaningful glance at Soren. "I found something on the way, Elder. This young man here. He says he came in a broken wagon, but there's nothing on the road where he pointed. There's something strange about this guy."
He said this with a tone of suspicion, and Soren felt diminished under the critical gaze of both.
The elder raised an eyebrow, and a curious glint appeared in his eyes. He turned to Soren, examining him from head to toe, as if trying to unravel whether he was telling the truth.
Soren shifted uncomfortably under that scrutiny.
After a moment of reflection, the elder smiled thoughtfully. "Well, young man, this village isn't usually a place for outsiders… but if you're in trouble, who are we to deny help, right?"
'Huh?' Soren was surprised.
He hadn't thought it would be so easy. Looking at this elder, who had a smiling and gentle face, Soren felt emotional.
"Elder, are you sure about this? This young man seems suspicious…" Durand countered, eyeing Soren with distrust.
"You're being too cautious. He clearly needs help. My village may not be large, but I won't deny help to someone in need when I see one." The elder smiled, waving his hand dismissively at Durand.
Durand huffed but did not press the matter further.
Soren felt uncomfortable under Durand's gaze. Smiling awkwardly, he bowed to the elder. "Thank you for letting me stay, Elder. I promise I'll behave!"
The elder nodded, satisfied, while Durand prepared to return to whatever he had been doing, but not before casting one last doubtful look at Soren.
The elder chuckled at this, placing a bony, pale hand on Soren's shoulder.
"You arrived at a good time. I haven't had my breakfast yet. Would you like to come in and eat something? You too, Durand. Don't be rude to our guest." The elder suddenly said with a smile.
Soren didn't want to refuse the elder's goodwill, so he obediently nodded.
Durand hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed with a dry nod.
He didn't seem very excited.
The elder opened the door, gesturing for both to enter.
Soren hesitated for a moment before following Durand, his eyes scanning the interior of the house as he crossed the threshold.
The space was dark, illuminated only by a lit fireplace in the corner, whose flames cast dancing shadows on the stone and wood walls.
In one corner, there was a shelf crammed with books, some so dusty that it was impossible to discern the titles.
Soren looked around, intrigued and, at the same time, suspicious.
Everything there seemed too old, as if time had stopped. He wondered why everything, from the village to the clothes of the elder and Durand, didn't resemble anything he knew.
This made him think again about the wagon and his situation.
As Soren pondered, the elder pointed to two chairs, inviting them to sit.
"Make yourselves comfortable." He said with a gentle smile. Then he turned to a nearby shelf and pulled out a metal kettle, filling three wooden mugs with a steaming drink.
"It's root tea." The elder remarked, pushing one of the mugs toward Soren.
"It helps us wake up and warm up on these cold days. It's not every day that we get a stranger around here. In fact, it's quite rare."
Soren took the mug with both hands, warming himself in the steam rising from it. He looked around once more, his thoughts still wandering.
"Where did you come from, young man?" The elder asked, leaning forward with interest. He pushed something that looked like a boiled potato toward Soren.
Soren accepted the potato, realizing he wasn't exactly sure how to respond.
He felt an increasing unease since waking up on that road, and now, in front of the elder, he felt more lost than ever.
"I came from the city." He murmured, taking a bite of the potato.
It was still warm.
"City?" Durand murmured suspiciously. "You're quite far away. The nearest city is a few days' journey."
'A few days?' Soren frowned unconsciously.
The timing didn't seem right.
He had only slept for one night, so how was it possible that he was so far from the city?
"Durand is right. Traveling the road is difficult. You must be tired from traveling for so long." The elder added with a smile, taking a sip of his own tea.
Soren froze upon hearing this. His heart raced as he recalled the recent events.
'What if…'
A thought took shape, crawling from the depths of his mind until it found light.
What if… this wasn't his world?
The idea seemed absurd, but what had been normal so far? Waking up in a wagon driving itself down the road wasn't normal.
That notion still lingered in his mind like smoke. He could ask the elder where he was, but what would he do if he found out this wasn't his world?
Soren then decided to change the subject. "This… village. Is it always so… quiet? It seems like a nice place to live." He said, avoiding the question and shifting to a calmer topic.
The elder smiled faintly, his dull eyes observing Soren. "Ah, yes. It's still very early. They will wake up soon, each to their daily tasks. It's true that we're not used to visitors, but we have our routine, and it's valuable to us."
Durand, who had been sipping his tea and listening in silence, began to shift impatiently. "Come on, Elder, I need to go. The field doesn't plow itself, and I've wasted too much time here."
He huffed, rising to his feet and slamming his mug down on the table.
The elder watched him, nodding in understanding. "This old man doesn't want to keep you. Go back to what you need to do. The land needs to be tended."
Turning to Soren, the elder smiled again. "I will personally show you where you'll be staying. You can go on your own, Durand, and we will catch up with you later."
Durand cast one last look at Soren before shrugging and exiting through the door, muttering something about strangers and wasted time.
As soon as the door closed, the elder turned his attention back to Soren, rising slowly. "Come on, young man." He said.
"And don't mind that grumpy old man. Durand has always been like this, but he has a good heart." The elder added with a smile.
"Oh, I don't mind…" Soren nodded with an awkward smile. He stood up after finishing his potato and tea, following the elder to the door.
It seemed these two old men had a good relationship, and even though Durand treated him a bit harshly, Soren didn't really care.
He was the stranger in someone else's home and was lost at that moment.
In the end, it was still Durand who let him ask the elder to stay in the village.
The old man's words said one thing, but his attitude was different.
He was an old man with a hairy heart.
***
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