It took a while for Uma to wake up, evident by the strain in her joints. Hair tousled over an unfamiliar bed, she wasn't in the clothes she came with — replaced with a crimson red linen dress that draped over her entire lower half.
Not hearing any angels, so I'm not dead at least, she thought as she shifted up, her head still hurting from the fall, making her vision slightly shaky as she took in the room.
It was bare and empty, the only decorations being some vines crawling around the window and the nightstand next to her.
Whoever designed this clearly doesn't have an eye for architecture.
Uma got up and off the bed, taking in the full dress. It wasn't too dissimilar to the color of the woman's red hair she had seen. The floor creaked under her, and a smell drifting from somewhere else in the house made her instinctively walk towards the door.
Mr. Blacksmith immediately met her with a door to the face as he swung it open with force, saying something she couldn't understand in a booming voice.
I'm two for two in this fucking world, Uma thought as she rubbed her forehead. Mr. Blacksmith's hands lifted her up and put her back on her feet, giving her head a pat.
Then he was struck with a pan.
The red-haired woman from before barged in, and this time Uma could make out her features. She had age to her, that's for sure — 40 to 50, Uma assumed. Yellow eyes that had greyed slightly with age, eyes that had definitely seen some things.
She yelled at Mr. Blacksmith before turning her gaze towards Uma with the same intensity.
Shit, she's pissed. The hairs on the back of Uma's neck stood up like a cat hit with water.
But nothing happened. Ms. Red — the name Uma had just given her — simply softened her gaze and pulled Uma into a hug, muttering something that even Uma couldn't understand, though it was definitely an apology.
What the hell is going on with my life right now, Uma thought, which she didn't manage to process before she was let go and Ms. Red went back to hitting Mr. Blacksmith with a wooden spoon as he cowered in the corner.
They're like a married couple, Uma smirked at the sight. She hadn't felt this type of warmth since... well, ever. It was a nice, warm feeling.
The scene played out for a little while — little Ms. Red standing over a defeated Mr. Blacksmith, who was curled up into a ball in the corner.
Ms. Red wiped some sweat off her forehead before turning back to Uma.
"Well, tu es hungry, kleines Kind?"
Uma made out hungry, so she just nodded. Ms. Red offered a hand, which Uma instinctively took, and she was led to a kitchen and sat at a table.
This is so weird, Uma thought as she looked around. It was slightly cozier — the same vines from where she woke up were here too, though more decorative than invasive.
Ms. Red was talking to her.
"Баклажан ты 你好 sprechen كلب مع pasta?"
What. Uma just nodded.
"Вы любите soup, mon petit каждый?"
She heard soup, so she shook her head up and down.
"How ты est باشد вкусно маленький?"
Yeah, not a clue. She held up a thumbs up.
A bowl was slid her way — fresh soup with beef and potatoes. It smelled divine. Uma immediately dug in, the feeling of having been asleep with no food for days hitting her all at once.
She went through one bowl, then another, then another, until there was a pile stacked next to her.
Mhmm, yummy.
Ms. Red sat next to Uma, a gentle smile on her face.
"Баклажан それ était good, маленький?"
Uma still didn't get it. Just smile and nod, Uma. Just smile and nod. She shook her head up and down with a thumbs up.
Mr. Blacksmith eventually came downstairs. Ms. Red shot him a look that made him flinch before they exchanged words — and then he picked up the pot and started downing the soup by the gallon.
That made Ms. Red shoot up and start whacking him with her wooden spoon once more, which didn't seem to slow down the chugging one bit.
So she eventually shoved him aside before quickly pouring two bowls, as he grabbed the pot back with a grin and a chuckle.
Free food and a show — I should get attacked more often, Uma thought sarcastically.
As both Ms. Red and Mr. Blacksmith settled down, they both looked at Uma, then back at each other. Ms. Red said something that drew a nod from Mr. Blacksmith.
They both disappeared through a door that led to another part of the house she couldn't quite see from her seat. She didn't know what to do, so she just sat there kicking her feet.
A few moments later, they both returned, each carrying something.
Ms. Red had a couple of books. Mr. Blacksmith was carrying what looked like a miniature chalkboard that clearly had a blacksmith's touch over a carpenter's.
They sat down on either side of Uma, and Ms. Red started to speak. She looked like she was testing something, and when Uma didn't respond, she took the board, opened a book, drew two symbols, and presented both.
It appeared to be an alphabet — evident by the 26 characters — and using her basic knowledge, Uma read the board.
H... I.
The words almost scrambled in her head, but she managed to make that out. Hi? Uma waved, unsure. That drew a nod from Ms. Red as she erased the board, then wrote something else.
N A - E
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make out the third symbol. But she was a grown woman — she used context clues. My name? Uma thought.
"..."
She tried to say it out loud but... nothing came out.
She tried to clear her throat. No noise either.
Panic started to set in.
She tried again. "..." Nothing but air. She touched her throat where she'd been slashed. She was starting to hyperventilate, and even as she traced the scar with her fingers, she knew that no matter how much she willed it —
Holy shit... my voice is gone.