Chapter Thirty-Two #2
A pendant hangs around my neck—smoky crystal shot through with veins of gold. I lift it, studying the strange stone that seems to pulse with inner light when I touch it. It feels important, though I don't know why.
I struggle to my feet, legs unsteady beneath me. Which way should I go? Every direction looks the same—endless trees stretching into shadow. I choose at random, putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward because standing still feels dangerous, though I don't know why.
Hours pass. The forest gradually thins. Through breaks in the trees, I glimpse rolling hills beyond, and what might be plowed fields in the distance. Civilization. Safety, perhaps.
My pace quickens despite my exhaustion. Each step brings me closer to answers—at least, I pray it does. The forest opens suddenly onto a wide meadow bathed in late afternoon sunlight. Beyond it, nestled in a small valley, a village of stone and timber houses sends tendrils of smoke into the sky.
Relief floods through me. People. Help. Answers.
I step out from the tree line on trembling legs, following a narrow path that winds through tall grass toward the village. Before I'm halfway across the meadow, I spot them—a woman and three young girls tending to a small herd of goats near a wooden fence.
The smallest girl sees me first, pointing and tugging at her mother's skirt. The woman looks up, shading her eyes against the sun. She says something to her daughters, then approaches me with cautious concern in her expression.
"By the light, are you all right?" she calls, quickening her pace as she takes in my disheveled appearance. "Are you hurt?"
I open my mouth to answer, but what can I say? That I woke in the forest with no knowledge of who I am or how I got there? That I feel like half a person, as if something vital has been torn away, leaving me hollow and incomplete ?
"Miss?" The woman reaches me, her face creased with worry. She hesitantly touches my arm. "You're safe now. We can help you. Whatever trouble you're in, you're safe here."
Behind her, the girls watch with wide, curious eyes. The oldest can't be more than ten, the youngest perhaps five. Something about their innocent faces makes my chest ache with nameless emotion.
"I..." My voice cracks from disuse. How long has it been since I've spoken? "I don't know what happened to me."
The woman's expression softens. "That's all right. Let's get you to the village. The healer can tend to you." She studies my face. "What's your name, dear?"
Such a simple question. The most basic fact of identity. It should be the first thing anyone knows about themselves.
I search the emptiness where my past should be, desperate for even a small fragment of myself. Nothing comes—just a vast, terrifying blankness. Tears fill my eyes, spilling over before I can stop them.
"I don't know," I whisper, the words falling like stones into still water. "I don't know who I am."