Aeloria lay awake long after the others slept.
She stared at the dark ceiling beams, eyes open and mind loud.
She turned her head and watched Rya and Enoch breathing quietly beside her.
Enoch had one arm draped across her waist even in his sleep.
She pulled him closer, wrapped both arms around him, and tried again to sleep.
It still would not come.
Only when the first grey of dawn crept through the cracks did exhaustion finally take her.
Rya woke to the faint scent of woodsmoke and the soft creak of the house settling.
She opened her eyes and turned carefully.
Aeloria and Enoch lay curled together: mother holding son, his head tucked under her chin, both faces relaxed in deep sleep.
Rya stared at them for a long time.
She wondered what it felt like to fall asleep in your mother's arms simply because she wanted you there, not because you had begged or forced your way in her bed.
She sat up slowly. The bed was narrow and crowded; she moved with care so it would not groan and wake them.
After another quiet moment watching the pair, she decided to explore while the house was still quiet.
She stood, clutching the blanket to her chest and wrapped it around her shoulders as she slipped through the curtain.
The main room was small and simple. A square table stood in the centre, big enough for four. Four wooden chairs waited around it, their legs worn thin, seats patched with scraps of leather. Everything looked old and heavily used, yet clean and orderly.
She walked once around the table.
To her right was the cooking corner. A single shelf held the household's food: strings of onions, a few turnips and potatoes, a small basket of withered apples, bundles of dried herbs hanging from nails. A patched grain sack sat on the floor. An iron pot hung above the cold hearth. Nothing was wasted here.
She was studying the shelf when she felt someone watching her.
She turned.
Enoch stood in the curtain opening, hair sticking up, one fist rubbing his eye.
"Good… good morning, elder sister," he said, voice small and shy.
Rya blinked.
"Elder sister?" she repeated, softer than she meant to.
A warm feeling spread through her chest. She had always wanted a little brother or sister. Hearing it now, even from a child she barely knew, made her eyes sting.
Enoch nodded, cheeks turning pink.
Rya smiled and motioned for him to come closer. He padded forward and stopped just in front of her.
"How are you this morning, Enoch?" she asked, crouching so they were eye to eye. She held the blanket closed with one hand.
"Good," he answered, looking at his feet.
"I see you're both awake already," Aeloria said, stepping through the curtain. Her hair was loose, her face still soft from sleep, but her eyes were sharp and alert.
"Good morning, Irene," Rya said, standing.
"Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?" Aeloria asked.
Rya glanced at the woman again. In the morning light she looked impossibly young—no older than Rya herself—yet Enoch was at least seven. The thought sat strangely in her mind.
"Much better than yesterday," Rya said, managing a real smile this time.
Aeloria nodded. "Good. Make yourself at home. Enoch and I will go to the river for water."
Enoch was already dragging two wooden buckets from beneath the table, the rope handles dragging on the floor.
Rya stepped forward quickly. "Let me go instead. I can't cook, I can't sew—I wouldn't know where to start. Carrying water is the only useful thing I can do right now."
Aeloria studied her for a long moment, expression calm and unreadable.
"I see," she said at last, voice low. "You want to leave while you have the chance. Either you're afraid those soldiers will come looking and bring trouble to our door… or you still don't trust the woman who saved your life."
Rya opened her mouth, but no words came.
The truth was written plainly on her face, and Aeloria had seen it instantly.
Rya's heart pounded.
'She saw right through me.
Running alone in these woods feels impossible; I'd be dead or captured by nightfall.
But this woman… something about her still sets my every instinct on edge. She hasn't hurt me. She treated my wounds, fed me, gave me her own bed. That's exactly what bothers me.'
She had only ever trusted one person, Michael. He was too much of an idiot to have hidden motives.
'My own Mother wants me dead. Why should I believe there's a single person in this world who would risk anything for someone they owe nothing to?' She thought.
"Elder sister is… going away?" Enoch asked, voice trembling.
His small hand slipped into hers and held tight. His eyes were already shining with tears.
Rya opened her mouth, but no words came.
Before she could answer, Aeloria spoke again, calm and certain.
"I can promise you the soldiers will never find this place. Anyone who tries to force their way here without my permission will walk the same path forever and never reach the house."
She stepped forward, close enough that Rya caught the faint scent of herbs and earth on her skin.
Aeloria reached out and gently touched Rya's chin, lifting it so their eyes met.
"If I wanted to harm you, little one, you would already be dead, and no amount of running would save you. Stay. Make yourself at home. I will fetch the water."
Her fingers were warm. Her gaze was steady.
Rya felt the fight drain out of her.
"It's true I want to run," Rya admitted. "But I wasn't planning to leave this very moment. Please… let me help. You said they can't find this place. That means I'm safe here, doesn't it? Carrying water is the least I can do after everything you've done."
Aeloria studied her face for a long moment, reading every flicker of expression.
Then she sighed, soft and resigned.
"I can see just by looking at your hands that you've never carried buckets in your life," she said, almost amused. "But if you insist, then come. Just don't try to carry more than you can manage. The path is longer than it looks, and the ground is uneven. Take this."
She reached into her pocket and drew out a braided chain of dried herbs, wormwood, rue, and something sharp-scented Rya didn't recognize. She slipped it over Rya's head so it rested against her collarbone.
"What is it?" Rya asked, touching the rough cord.
"It keeps wolves and worse away," Enoch piped up proudly, lifting his sleeve to show an identical band around his thin wrist. "I made mine myself!"
Rya managed a real smile. "Thank you."
Aeloria glanced at the blanket still wrapped around Rya's shoulders. "You can't walk through the forest like that. Wait here."
She disappeared behind the curtain and returned moments later with a simple grey wool gown, patched but clean, and a leather belt.
"It's nothing fancy," she said, "but it will keep the brambles off your legs."
"Thank you, Irene." Rya took the dress and stepped back through the curtain. When she returned, the grey gown hung loose on her frame, the belt cinched at her waist. The fabric was soft from years of washing.
Aeloria looked her over once, head to toe, and gave a small approving nod.
"You look stunning no matter what you wear," she said simply.
Rya felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Thank you."
Enoch grabbed her hand again, beaming. "Elder sister, let's go!"
He tugged her toward the door with surprising strength for such a small boy. Rya let herself be pulled outside into the cool morning air, the two buckets clattering behind them.
Aeloria watched them go, a quiet smile touching her mouth.
It had been years since Enoch had looked so openly happy around anyone new.
She turned back into the house, crossed to the small clay cooler built into the wall, and lifted the lid.
The rabbit from last night lay inside, stiff and cold.
"I should start preparations before they return," she murmured.
She carried the rabbit to the table, set out a knife, and began skinning it with quick, practiced movements.
Her hands worked automatically, but her mind drifted far away back to the morning she had walked into the royal training grounds at the western edge of Ohlm.
Thousands of soldiers had filled the vast field.
Rows of spears glittered under the rising sun. Banners snapped in the wind. The air rang with shouted orders and the thud of boots.
She had stepped through the gate, thin as a ghost, and every head had turned.
"Hey… isn't that the cannibal?"
The whisper spread like fire through dry grass.
"Why is she here?"