I'm hungry... why am I feeling déjà vu? Nevermind.
I was... asleep. Yes, I'm starting to remember. That 'doctor' went to get food and never came back. What a disregard. I'll remember this.
To-Be-Punished list:
The old blacksmith
The old doctor
Apparently, I've had a strange bad luck with old people since arriving here.
After organising my thoughts and clearing my mind, I gradually began to feel the lethargy leave my body. I also felt wet? And... cold!
I quickly got up, brushing off the lumps of snow that had accumulated on my body. I was shivering frantically and spinning my head like a madman, trying to understand what had happened. I succeeded after looking up at the ceiling, or at least where it was supposed to be.
Of course, a thatched roof wouldn't withstand a blizzard like that! I looked around the cabin, the ground covered in snow and water. My extremities were frozen, and I lost all sense of touch in my fingers and toes. My eyelids were like heavy bags of sand hanging from my face. My throat crackled like parchment. Every cell in my body howled for warmth, for food, for anything. The fact that my clothes were all soaking wet didn't help at all. What was wrong with my horribly unlucky self? Glasses still under my pillow—thank god. I shoved them on, vision swimming. I stood up despite the exhaustion and severe headache I was experiencing. I might have caught a fever. I staggered to the door, barefoot, my boots must be under the snow somewhere, my hands trembling, and tugged—but to no avail. It was stuck. Locked tight from the outside. I felt something blocking the door from the other side. Damn it, the snow must be preventing the door from opening. Now I was in trouble.
The minutes tick by, my body slowly weakens, my vision grows blurry, and my heartbeat slows down. I actually think about climbing the wall, but I'm too weak for that. Will I die? Maybe one day, but not before I do some old people a favour.
I feel a smirk forming on my face. Not yet. If I survive, that blacksmith's getting a 'thank you' gift... flammable.
I peel off my shirt and feel waves of cold wind across my entire upper body. I gather some snow into it and try to squeeze it, dripping a few drops of water. I'm not sure how effective a shirt is at filtering dirt from the water, but it's better than nothing. After what felt like a quarter of an hour of drinking (barely a glass of water) and feeling a little energetic, I headed back to the chair, removed the snow from it, placed it on the bed, and stood on it. Even after all this, the wall was still about half a meter higher.
My fingers were still numb, and even more so after having put them in the snow several times before, so I tore my shirt in half and tied each piece on my palm like a glove. After stretching and doing a few small jumps on my fingertips, I jumped with all my strength, trying to reach the top of the stone wall. I barely reached it, concentrating all my strength on my fingers, cautious that they would fall, especially with the wetness and high humidity everywhere. My numb toes scraped for purchase in the mortar gaps-click-one lodged in—a miracle. The stones were constantly rubbing against my chest, leaving some minor cuts and bruises. It was only when I placed my elbows and head on the top that I was able to catch my breath. The bed was opposite the door, and from what I could see, I was in the backyard of the hut.
To my left, despite somewhat blurry vision, I could make out the outlines of a small village with mostly wooden huts, unlike my own, which was the last in a row of houses. Speaking of good hospitality
I moved on to the next step, placing my leg on the crest, which surprisingly proved easy. I noticed the pain slowly subsiding. Was it the adrenaline rush? I had to hurry. Without hesitation, I threw myself onto the snow on the other side. I was already soaked, so it made no difference. I blew into my hands, trying to warm them between them while I thought about what to do next. I guess I'll try to ask someone for help. I don't speak the language, but my appearance is enough to explain.
Thinking about it, I look like I've just been in a fight. My toes and feet are swollen and stained the distinctive red of blood. My chest also has its fair share of bruises and cuts. I hope the residents don't think I'm going to cause any trouble and throw me out... Well, honestly, that's what I would do if someone like me came to my house.
I headed to the one-story house next to the stone cottage, and just like it, the door was surrounded by piles of snow. I removed some of it and knocked. Meanwhile, the wind was getting louder and stronger, warning of the approach of another round of snowfall. I had to hurry. No matter how many times I knocked, I got no answer. I headed towards the house. The second, then the third, my strength gradually failed me. Could it be that it was still midnight or just before dawn? Looking up at the sky was of no use; the storm made it impossible to distinguish the sky's colour or catch any ray of light.
I turned my face toward another house, on the opposite side, and as I headed toward it, my strength failed me and I fell face down. I stretched out my hands to the ground and began crawling in the same direction. The wounds on my hands and chest grew more swollen and bleeding, leaving a wide strip of blood on the ground. Only when I reached the doorstep did all the colour around me disappear, and I sank into unconsciousness.
— • — Monday, 7:00 AM — • —
So... will someone be so kind as to tell me exactly where I am?
Given my severe lack of information, let's review what we already know. I was seeking shelter from the cold when I fainted. After a sleep that lasted who knows how long, I woke up in this house... clean would be an apt description, on a soft cotton sofa, on which I'm sitting right now. If I hadn't been so ignorant of my current situation, I wouldn't have preferred to sleep for a few more hours. On my left was a fireplace, and my previous freezing experience had made me see it as a sacred treasure. I began to relate to those who had worshipped it in ancient times. In front of me was a second sofa, and between me and it was a wide, short wooden table. On it sat a plate of meat with broth and bread! I wasn't hallucinating! Food!
I threw all my problems aside and left them to my future self, my present self. After I finished eating, I realised that I had never been so satisfied with a meal. No, maybe I had never eaten in my life!
Anyway, enough talk about my stomach. I reclined comfortably, enjoying the softness of the sofa and the warmth of the fire. To my right was a door that, by its look, I guessed was the front door. This must be the living room. In front of me, behind the second sofa, was a second door. I hadn't gotten up to inspect the place yet; that was all.
I wonder if it was appropriate to wander around the house without the resident's permission.
Ah, who am I fooling? I'm too exhausted to do anything anyway... Wait a minute.
I prodded my ribs. No bruises. Not even a scab. The cuts from the stones. The cuts from the stones? Gone. Had I hallucinated everything? Or... was this a hallucination?
How did it took much time for me to find out about all of this?
I slapped my forehead in disappointment. I'd always considered myself a very observant person. Was it the old man's blow to my head, or was it hunger? It doesn't matter.
The problem here is that something strange is happening. First, the blow to my head, and now this. When I was in the hut, I noticed my injury had healed without leaving any traces. No scars, and even when I pressed on the injury, I felt no pain. It was as if I had never been injured in the first place. At the time, I assumed that maybe the injury wasn't as bad as I had imagined, and that my mind was just exaggerating the pain. But this time is different. These injuries are bound to leave traces, even if they are minor. Or maybe there is something I'm overlooking?
As thoughts swirled in my head, my desire to move gradually increased, either to go outside or to search the house for someone. I don't want to invade the privacy of whoever owns this house, so going outside seems more appropriate. Although it would be strange to walk around shirtless, I stood up and walked towards the door and began to open the traditional wooden locks on it. I hope there isn't any snow trapping it on the other side. I was surprised to find that the door opens inwards, so snow is no longer a problem; it wouldn't have been a problem at all, there was none of it at the threshold.
The road in front of me was covered in snow. I looked up, same thing in the other houses. As I suspected earlier, it seems I was knocking on doors in the middle of the night. The cold winds continued to blow, but very gently, and I estimated the temperature to be between 0 C° and -5 C°.
Unlike last time, the sun could be seen as a ball of light hiding behind the clouds, but it was still difficult to see clearly. As soon as I stepped out of the house, I hurried back to the fireplace and remembered two things, again: I don't have any kind of shoes, I won't walk on the snow barefoot again, and my glasses are missing. Again, it seems the previous time was the last. I will pray for you, my glasses. I think I'll wait here for a while.
I straightened in my seat when I heard footsteps above me, on the second floor, quiet and slow. The sound moved to come from near the door opposite me, the one I had previously decided not to pass through. Perhaps there was a staircase there. I kept my focus on the door until an elderly woman came out of it. I cannot express my relief at finally seeing someone. I noticed the surprise on her face, but it vanished into a small smile.
She was wearing winter house clothes, a long, rough linen shirt, its colour tending towards white that years had tinged with grey. Over it, a thick brown woollen dress was wrapped, a simple apron tied at her waist, and on her shoulders, a small woollen cloak, woven with coarse threads, loosely draped. Grey streaked her hair, partially hidden under a soft linen cap tied neatly at the back. Her feet were warmed by thick woollen socks, most likely knitted with a wooden needle, their colour a brownish-grey, and over them, she wore soft leather slippers that creaked slightly when she moved. Her clothes indicated neither abject poverty nor extravagant wealth.
I noticed her carrying a long, thick, light brown cotton coat. She approached me and gently offered it to me with the same warm grandmotherly smile on her face. I felt awkward; I wanted to refuse the offer, but I truly needed it. I bowed my head slightly and took the coat from her with a little embarrassment. She remained standing near me, her eyes on me. Oh, perhaps she wants me to try on the coat. And indeed, I stood up and put it on. It was very long, reaching my ankles, but it was surprisingly warm, so much so that I started to feel a bit hot wearing it near the fireplace.
The old lady came closer. Despite her grey hair, her face still retained some beauty; I'd bet she was incredibly beautiful in her youth. She extended her hand and began to smooth the folds of the coat at the shoulders and collar, then pulled it back. She stepped back a little to take a thorough and comprehensive look, then her face was etched with satisfaction and happiness. She had been silent from the start. Does she know that I'm a stranger who doesn't speak the language? That's quite probable. She turned and carried the dishes I had eaten from and went back the way she came. Just when I thought I would go back to sitting alone on the couch for a bit longer, the grandmother returned with a pair of long, padded leather boots in her hand.
"Ah, well... this is a bit too much." I tried to refuse them, although a part of me wanted to take them and run outside, but she kept pushing them towards me. Finally, I succumbed and put on the shoes. I felt my feet melt into the warmth of the cotton and my blood return to flow with its usual ease. I bowed my head in thanks; it was the only way I could express my gratitude at the moment. She responded with a smile and then went up the stairs. Now I can wander outside comfortably.
I slowly reopened the door and stepped outside. I noticed a slight increase in temperature, and the fog began to clear from the surroundings. I guess it's around eight or nine in the morning, judging by the sun. To my right, across six houses, stood the hut I had escaped from. I also noticed that we were on the edge of the village or town I am in now. There were no houses after the stone hut. I headed in the opposite direction, deeper into the village. I think I am in one of the rural villages in the North.
I occupied myself with looking at and contemplating the houses. There were no major differences between them other than size. The design, at least externally, was almost identical, with different colours on the windows and doors. The place was eerily quiet, like a ghost village; perhaps they're less active in the winter.
After a few minutes, I could see a few people, men to be precise, all wearing heavy winter clothes and scarves, as well as long leather boots. Everyone was carrying shovels, mostly iron ones, to clear the snow from the road. I also noticed the stables, as well as some people standing on gable roofs. Everyone looked focused on shovelling the snow, as no one seemed to notice me, or they simply didn't care.
I continued and reached the relatively snow-free part of the road. They seemed to be heading from the inside of the village to the outside. I spotted some children running around, throwing snowballs at each other, ignoring their mothers' warnings about someone getting hit in the face. Grocery stores selling vegetables, wheat, and other basic food products lined both sides. There were two bakeries a few houses apart, distinguished by their stone ovens protruding from the outside, which emitted alarming amounts of smoke. A blacksmith shop on the left caught my attention, and it looked so familiar...! It was the shop of the old man who had hit me on the head!
I felt a nervous smile spread across my face, and a vein throbbed on my forehead. I bowed my head slightly, put the collar of my coat over my head, and headed toward the shop. I pushed open the door, and a bell above it jingled, announcing my arrival—a presumably new customer. I found the old man on the other side, standing behind an anvil, beating hot metal against it.
The old blacksmith: ")*":/,"
I didn't understand or care about what he said, but instead rolled my eyes, contemplating the place while wandering. The heat was noticeably higher than outside, especially near the furnace. The sound of pounding from the regular hammering on the anvil filled the room. The walls were blackened with soot. Tools hung on the walls or placed on wooden shelves. A standard layout of a blacksmith's shop.
The furnace, the heart of the shop, where the metal was heated, was built of stone and clay. If my memory serves, furnaces at that time were fired with charcoal or coal. A bellows on the floor in front of the furnace opening, made of wood and leather, supplied air. Tongs rested on a small wooden stool, used to hold the hot iron. Nearby was a cooling bucket filled with water. A dark yellow substance, I thought it was oil.
The old man didn't seem to care about my presence. He didn't even bother to look at me. His entire attention was focused on the piece of iron in front of him. He seemed to be making a small sickle.
Hehe, this will be fun. Let me see... I found it!
I quietly left the shop and looked for where he kept his wood or coal, or whatever fuel he used. It wasn't anywhere inside, so he probably has it somewhere... Here! I found it in the backyard of the shop.
The wood was stacked on a worn-out cart and tightly covered with a thick tarpaulin to keep it from getting wet in the rain. Next to the wood was a pile of straw tied with thick ropes. I think a small accident is going to happen today~
Anyway, I need something to generate a spark. I wonder if there's a lighter or something. I could steal a piece of iron from inside the shop. A lot of them were scattered all over the floor, and a piece of flint was. He must have it somewhere.
I'm not planning on killing him, of course. Even if all the wood burns down, neither the shop nor the old man will be hurt. Let's consider it a minor prank. Compared to the blow that he hit me with, this is like a sting.
I went back to the main road, where the front door and the grocery stores were, and decided to head toward the hut again. I didn't miss it in the slightest, but I didn't want to bother the old lady, and I had nowhere else to go.
I noticed as I walked that the men who had been shovelling the snow had disappeared, even though there was still snow along a good stretch of the road. They must have gone to rest.
After walking for a few minutes, I saw several men gathered in front of the cabin, and I could see some inside. Could they be building a roof for me? That's very kind of them, very late, but I appreciated it.
I moved closer and took a closer look, and I immediately dismissed my assumption. Everyone was carrying shovels, shovelling the snow with great enthusiasm and at breakneck speed... while I was planning to burn their only smithy fuel. Now I felt guilty. You survived another day, old man.
I entered the cabin, and no one seemed to be paying me any attention. Inside, everyone was digging as if searching for something and talking among themselves. I couldn't understand a thing, of course. Suddenly, my eyes spotted the 'doctor' carrying a shovel and digging as well. I had to give him a proper greeting.
I rolled up my right sleeve, raised my hand half a meter, and then brought it down on his head, knocking him to the ground. I didn't hit him too hard, considering his age, but just hard enough to feel satisfied.
"Yo."
The 'doctor' turned to me, his face filled with surprise, which instantly turned to...fear?
The shovels froze mid-dig. A dozen wide eyes locked onto me—the boy who'd cheated death twice. The doctor gibbered, pointing like I'd risen from a grave. Maybe I had.
Doctor: "AAAAAh! *&^%$! &^%!"
Well, now... can someone tell me what's going on here?
— • — Half an hour ago (while Alan was wandering outside) — • —
Elias's POV:
I barely got out of my nap. The last two days have been really tiring.
I turned on the lamp on the two-drawer chest of drawers near the bed, giving me enough light to see where my shoes were.
By the way, I didn't eat dinner last night, which explains why I'm so hungry. I'm going down and find something for...the hungry young man!
I took my coat and hung it behind the bedroom door, and I ran down the stairs as fast as I could. Downstairs, I passed through the kitchen. I heard my wife calling me, but I was in a hurry. After the living room, I opened the front door and ran towards the cottage. The hut's door was blocked by blocks of snow. I thought about removing it with my hands, but that would take too long and would be too much effort. I gathered my strength and ran back to the village until I encountered some neighbours and acquaintances removing the snow from the road. They looked up at me and stopped what they were doing.
"The young man, hungry! Quick! Locked up! Help!"
???: "Wowwow wow, calm down, Elias, what do you want?"
I gathered my thoughts and caught my breath. Running so fast in this weather was too much for my old body.
"Remember the boy with the head injury in the cottage? He's locked up. The snow is preventing him from opening the door."
???: "Come on then."
I quickly returned to the hut, followed by a group of people who agreed to help. Upon our arrival, we began, or rather they began, to remove the snow as quickly as possible. The amount was enormous, especially since the hut was in a low area, which caused the wind to push additional blocks of snow. After a few minutes, we succeeded in opening the door, and to our surprise, waves of snow fell on the men who had opened the door. The roof had collapsed under the weight of the snow, and the entire hut was submerged in it!
The bed and chair, which had previously been the only furniture visible, disappeared beneath the snow, which was as tall as a grown man. No one could survive under all that!
"The young man is under the snow! Hurry and look for him!"
This amount of snow is too much. It will take us hours before we reach his location. I asked for more hands and shovels. I instructed everyone to dig horizontally forward toward the bed where the young man was sleeping. One minute, three, five, and finally, we reached the bed. But we didn't find the young man, but we found the chair on top of him. Strange.
Wait. Nobody. No blood. Just a chair perched on the bed like a grotesque throne. My stomach dropped. Had the boy... climbed? In that storm?!
I quickly asked for a search around the cabin in case he had fallen and couldn't get up, and around the bed itself. Maybe he hadn't climbed out and fallen off the bed. Meanwhile, more people and more shovels arrived.
"Dr. Elias, I've come to help!" I heard Elrik's voice behind me, muffled by his rapid panting.
"Excellent timing. Grab a shovel and start digging around. There's a young man buried somewhere under the snowdrifts." I explained briefly, and he started digging nearby.
What a fool! I should have invited him to stay at my house with this weather! Allowing exhaustion to overwhelm me was disastrous.
The minutes felt like hours as I waited to find the young man alive, but all I heard but the sound of shovels crunching through the snow. We had removed most of the snow from the cabin and thrown it to the door and out the door. From what I could see, there was no sign of the young man nearby. Could he have left the cabin in the middle of the storm? If so, he was bound to get lost, or worse, eaten by monsters. As I was thinking about forming a group to search for him outside the village, a powerful punch landed on my head, knocking me to the ground.
What the—
I turned to look at the perpetrator. He was slightly shorter than I, with black hair and eyes, and was wearing a light brown coat and leather shoes.
"Yo." A sarcastic smile spread across his face. This face, these features—it's impossible. Did his ghost come to kill me after I forgot about him?!
My breath seized. The boy's face was pale as a corpse's... but his eyes burned with life.
"AAAAAh! Ghost! Help!"