The Third Kind

With a plan solidifying in my mind, I turn my attention to my immediate physical needs.

My ankle is still throbbing, I pull up the leg of my slightly torn skirt to inspect the damage. It’s already swollen, puffy, and discoloured.

I reach down and tentatively dip my foot into the river. The cold is a biting relief, numbing the pain almost instantly. I keep it submerged, watching the current path around my skin.

There’s an unusual faint shimmer in the water that seems to cling to me. A gentle, pleasant heat spreads from my ankle up into my calf, chasing away some of the deep ache.

The pain is not gone, not by a long shot, but it's... better. More manageable. I pull my foot out and stare back at the water.

“The shimmer is gone? Was that just my imagination? A side effect of the adrenaline finally wearing off? It has to be.”

Putting my brief delirium aside, if I’m going to find civilization, following a river seems like my most logical choice. Water is life and typically settlements are built on or around them.

Using a sturdy-looking branch that had washed up on the shore as a makeshift crutch, I get back on to my feet. The first few steps are agony, but the unusual, lingering warmth in my ankle seems to keep the worst of the pain at bay.

Limping along the riverbank, my makeshift crutch sinking into the soft earth with every step.

Time blurs into a rhythm of limp, step, breathe. The sun continues its descent, casting long shadows that stretch like grasping fingers from the edge of the forest.

Just as I was getting used to white noise I hear it. Voices. Male voices.

My heart leaps into my throat. I immediately duck down behind a cluster of large, moss-covered rocks.

Further down the river, where the bank widens into a small, sandy clearing, are three men.

They are dressed in what looks like leather armour over simple tunics, with short swords sheathed at their hips. Their gear is worn, scuffed, and practical. These aren't parade soldiers; they're men who work for a living. Guards or soldiers maybe.

They seem to be taking a break. One is kneeling by the water's edge, splashing his face. Another is sitting on a log, taking a long drink from a waterskin. The third is pacing back and forth, gesturing with his hands as he speaks animatedly.

“—never seen a Jougalin that spooked before.” the pacing man says, his voice clearer now that I’m closer. “Ran like its tail was on fire. Didn’t even stop to fight back when we got close.”

The man on the log chuckles. “Good for us. I didn’t fancy tangling with one of those things today, especially not this late in the day. What do you think scared it off?”

“Who knows? Maybe a bigger predator.” the first man shrugs. “This close to the village? It’s not right. We’ll need to report it to the Captain.” The pacing man stops his stead as his train of thought reaches its destination.

“Jougalin? Is that what was chasing me? The name sounds a bit too cute?”

The man by the water stands up, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now. Let’s head back. My feet are killing me, and I can already taste Elara’s stew.”

The others murmur in agreement. As they gather their things, my eyes follow their gaze past the riverbank. And there, in the distance, nestled in a gentle curve of the river valley, I see it.

It isn't much at first, just a faint, hazy plume rising lazily into the air distinctly layered on top of the dusk. My eyes strain, and beneath the smoke, I can just make out the dark, angled shapes of rooftops. They are small, clustered together, humble and unassuming.

It's a village. The warm, yellow light of lanterns or candles twinkle in the windows. A stone palisade surrounds the settlement, and beyond it, I can just about make out the shapes of cultivated fields.

My legs almost give out from the sheer relief.

I’ve found it, I won’t be staying the night in the forest.

“Should I catch up to the guards now?” I whisper to myself, the words barely a breath.

“I could plead my story to them, a smaller group, less likely to be a spectacle. However I am a lone woman in the woods, approaching three armed men. I fear for my own safety, I don’t know these men, whose to say what they could do to me?”

My mind flashes back to late-night train carriages where drunken salary men would harass and intimidate female passengers. The ingrained caution of a woman alone doesn't vanish just because the world has. These men seem normal, just tired workers heading home, but 'seemed' wasn't a guarantee I am willing to bet my new life on.

It wasn’t really much of a question. It is easier to just follow them back and play the part in the village.

There, in the open, under the lights of the settlement, I'd be safer. There would be witnesses. A real audience. My ankle actually aids me with portraying the role of a misfortunate nomad.

“Very method.” I think as a grim, humorous smile touches my lips, accompanied by an involuntary eye roll.

My body coils like a spring, waiting until the guards are a safe amount of separation away, their casual conversation fading into quiet. Using the rock to haul myself up, I retrieve my branch and begin to follow, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the treeline.

The journey is short but feels like an eternity. With every step, I rehearse my lines, refine my character. Shikara Kaekari, the unlucky nomad. Frightened, but not helpless. Injured, but not broken.

An intimate knot establishes itself in my stomach, the thrill of the curtain rising, not the dread of potential failure. I feel a sense of calm settle over me as I fall into a familiar pre-show feeling.

The village grows closer, the details sharpening out of the nightfall. I can see the texture of the stone in the palisade, the vague orange glow illuminating the path to a sturdy-looking gate.

I can hear the distant, comforting sounds of life, people laughing, a dog barking, or what I think is a dog at least.

“Can’t get distracted now…”

I adjust the seam of my tattered tunic, push a stray strand of hair from my face, and set my expression to one of weary, desperate hope. The guards are just ahead, approaching the gate. My audience awaits.

I’m ready. My stage is set. Now, all I have to do is walk into it and give the performance of a lifetime.

“Showtime!”