Juan looked up, curious. "What is it?"
"What's life like in this village? I mean, it seems... tough."
Juan let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. "It is. It's really hard."
He shifted his position, pulling his knees up to his chest. "When I was younger, things were better. The crops grew tall, and the trees were full of fruits. The animals were healthy, and everyone had enough to eat. But after the flower was taken..."
His voice faltered, and he glanced toward the small window of the hut. The night outside was dark and silent, save for the occasional rustle of the wind.
"After the flower was taken, everything started changing," he continued. "The crops stopped growing like they used to. The fruit trees withered, and the animals started getting sick. Some of them even died for no reason. And the cold wind..." He shivered as if remembering its bite. "It started blowing down from the mountains more often. It's harsh and cruel. It makes the winters long and the nights colder."
Jea listened intently, her heart sinking. "What about the people? How do they manage?"
"Some don't," Juan admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "A lot of families left the village. They packed what little they had and went to the central village or even farther. My best friend's family left last winter. They said they couldn't stay here anymore. It was too hard."
"I'm sorry, Juan," Jea said softly. "It sounds awful."
Juan shrugged, though his eyes betrayed his sadness. "It's just the way it is now. Those of us who stayed... we do our best. But it's not enough. Sometimes I wonder if the village will disappear completely one day."
Jea's chest tightened as she looked at him. Despite his young age, Juan seemed to carry a burden far heavier than he should. The thought of families leaving, of children like Juan growing up in hardship, weighed heavily on her.
"Is that why you wanted to leave?" she asked gently.
Juan nodded. "I thought maybe if I got a sword, I could protect the village. Maybe even help find a way to make things better. But..." He looked down at his hands, ashamed. "I guess I didn't think it through."
Jea reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're brave, Juan, and you care about your people. That's more than most can say. Don't lose that."
He glanced up at her, his expression softening. "Thanks. You're different, Jea. I think maybe you'll help us. Even if Grandmother doesn't trust you yet, I do."
His words lit a small spark of determination in Jea's chest. She didn't know how or why she had ended up in this strange world, but perhaps she could do something to help. If earning the villagers' trust meant improving their lives, then she'd do everything she could.
The cold wind howled faintly outside, but inside the small hut, a sense of quiet resolve settled between them.
Jea sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, listening intently as Juan spoke about the magical flower. His voice was low, as if afraid someone might overhear.
"They say the flower was created by Pan, the forest god," he explained, his eyes flickering with a mix of awe and fear. "A long time ago, Pan blessed the forest with the flower, placing it in the heart of the woods. It's said to have incredible powers-curing illnesses, healing wounds, and even making crops grow faster and stronger."
Jea's eyes widened. "That sounds... amazing. No wonder it's so important."
Juan nodded gravely. "It is. But its power also caused trouble. There were wars between villages. Everyone wanted the flower for themselves. Some said it could make a person immortal, but no one knows for sure. The wars stopped only when our village promised to guard the flower. It became part of our duty. But when the woman-your lookalike-came and took it..."
He trailed off, his face darkening.
"That's why things got worse," Jea murmured, piecing the story together. "Without the flower, your village lost its protection and prosperity."
Juan nodded. "Exactly. And now Grandmother is afraid of outsiders, especially anyone who might go into the forest."
Jea bit her lip. "So if the flower is in the forest, can't we just... find it? Bring it back?"
Juan's eyes widened in alarm. "You can't go into the forest! It's dangerous! Grandmother would never allow it."
Before Jea could press further, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Both of them froze as the door creaked open, revealing Igo standing in the doorway, her piercing eyes fixed on them.
"What are you two whispering about?" she demanded, her voice as sharp as the wind outside.
Juan quickly shook his head. "Nothing, Grandmother! We were just talking."
Igo's gaze lingered on Jea for a moment before she spoke again. "You will not go into the forest. The forest god is unpredictable, and your presence might anger him further. Instead, I have another task for you both."
"What is it?" Jea asked, trying to mask her disappointment.
"You'll go to the market tomorrow," Igo said firmly. "We need flour and meat for the coming week. Take the donkey and make the journey together. Perhaps, Jea, you can use this time to learn more about our ways."
Jea nodded reluctantly, understanding that arguing would get her nowhere.
The next morning, after a restless night, Jea prepared for the journey. A girl about her age lent her a simple dress and a pair of wooden shoes, and while they weren't the most comfortable, they helped her blend in with the villagers.
Juan packed supplies onto the donkey's saddle-a few coins, an empty sack, and a water pouch. The early morning sun bathed the village in a soft glow as they set out, the donkey trotting obediently beside them.
The journey to the market was long, winding through rough trails and open fields. They passed other travelers-farmers with carts of produce, a merchant carrying woven goods, and even a minstrel strumming a lute.
Jea found herself enjoying the journey despite its length. Juan talked animatedly about the market, describing the stalls piled high with goods and the lively chatter of merchants.
"Do you go there often?" Jea asked as they walked.