Settlement

"I believe you." The Chief’s words are simple, and yet they shatter the crystalline tension in the room immediately. 

Elara lets out a breath she must have been holding in for minutes. 

"A life like that would indeed forge a soul of both iron and glass. You have a good head on your shoulders." He stands up and turns to Captain Roach, whose face is in a state of thunderous disbelief.

"Roach, stand your men down. This young woman is a survivor, and she is now under the protection of this village. Is that understood?"

The Captain’s jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle bunch beneath his stubble, but he cannot argue with the Chief’s finality. "...Yes, Chief Orville." he grinds out, through gritted teeth. 

Roach gives me one last, hard glare before turning on his heel and storming out of the cottage, his guards trail in his wake like scolded dogs.

With the immediate threat gone, Chief Orville’s expression softens again as he turns back to Hakota and Elara. 

"I really appreciate the kindness you have shown this young woman. But I imagine Roach will not make your life easy if she continues to stay here, Hakota. Unfortunately, her presence has become a matter of village politics."

He then looks directly at me. "Therefore, I have a proposal. Shikara, you will stay with me. My house has room, and you will be my guest until your ankle is fully healed. Did Clovis say how much longer it will take to heal?"

"That’s very generous, but I couldn’t possibly impose. And no she didn’t say how long it would take, she just wanted me to come by again today." I reply, trying to remain as humble as possible. 

"Nonsense, it is a practical solution. It will quell any lingering rumours and give you a chance to recover in peace. We do not turn away those in need." He pauses, a curious, almost mischievous glint appearing in his eye. 

"And besides, a woman who has learned so much just by watching the world… I suspect you are a more interesting guest than most."

Hakota and Elara both look relieved. "That is very kind, Chief!" Hakota says, bowing his head slightly.

The Chief waves a dismissive hand once again, and then offers it to me. He has a large, calloused palm that has seen a lifetime of hard work and even harder decisions. "Come, Shikara. Let us get you settled. You’ve had a very long morning."

I look at his outstretched hand, then at the kind faces of Elara and Hakota.

I place my hand in his. It’s warm and well practiced. 

"I need to thank you both." I turn to Elara, whose eyes are already welling up. 

"You took me in when you had every reason not to. You fed me, gave me a place to sleep… I…" The words get caught in my throat. This gratitude is an unfamiliar emotion, so much more potent than the second-hand feelings I’m used to feeding upon.

Elara just pulls me into a gentle hug. "You be safe. You can still come visit us, it's only a short walk. " she whispers, her voice clogged with emotion.

I appreciate the embrace, and turn to Hakota. "Thank you for sticking your neck out for me at the gate. You didn’t have to do that and now I’ve gotten you in trouble..."

He just gives me a gruff, slightly embarrassed nod. "The Chief is right. We don’t turn away those in need. Stay safe, Shikara."

He then embraces Elara softly, I can feel a history unseen and I can see a burden lifted off their shoulders.

Elara hands me a bundle of folded clothes. A simple brown skirt and a cream-coloured tunic.

 "Here," she says. "So you have something clean to wear. And now that you’re sticking around for a little while, why don’t you leave your clothes, I’ll repair them!"

"You’re too kind Elara, thank you, I’ll leave them in your care!" I reply, trying to squeeze every ounce of graciousness out of my voice. 

I go back into the small room and quickly change, feeling a sense of profound relief now that I have been able to shed this nightgown. 

I emerge back into the main room, and the Chief gives me a patient, approving nod. "Ready?"

I follow the Chief out the door and into the full light of day. The walk to the Chief’s house is shorter than I thought it’d be. The villagers, who previously stared at me with open suspicion, now watch with a different kind of intensity. 

I’m no longer a potentially dangerous outsider; I’m the Chief’s guest. That single fact has elevated my status from ‘threat’ to ‘person of interest’.

The Chief walks with a slow, deliberate gait. He doesn't speak, but his silence isn't uncomfortable. It’s observant. He gives a loose wave to each villager we pass.

We eventually come to the far end of the main path. There stands a long, single-story building made of dark timber and sturdy-looking stone, with a proper slate roof instead of thatch. And the windows are fitted with panes of real, albeit wavy, glass. 

A small, well-tended garden grows along one side of the outside. It suggests a sense of stability and quiet prosperity, rather than ostentatious wealth, which I can respect.

He pushes open the heavy wooden door and motions me inside. The interior is spacious and filled with a soft, natural light. A large wooden table dominates the main room, accompanied by enough mismatched chairs to seat a dozen people. 

Shelves filled with scrolls, leather-bound books, and various carved wooden figures line one wall. The air smells of old wood, beeswax, and something faintly medicinal.

The space is clean and orderly, but it has an undeniable air of emptiness. It’s too quiet, too still. It’s undoubtedly the house of a man who lives alone.

"The guest room is this way." He says as he leads me down a short hallway to a room at the back of the house. 

It’s simple, containing a bed with a thick woollen blanket, a small wooden wardrobe, and a washstand with a ceramic basin and pitcher. A single, large window looks out over the herb garden and, beyond it, the stone palisade.

"Get situated," he says from the doorway. "The midday meal will be in an hour or so. Rest until then."

I turn to thank him, but he’s already walking away, his footsteps soft on the wooden floorboards. 

I sink down onto the edge of the bed, the mattress far softer and more comfortable than the straw one from last night. I run my hand over the smooth, cool fabric of the blanket.

But as I sit here in the quiet, a familiar feeling begins to surface. It’s not fear or anxiety. It's curiosity. 

Chief Orville is a fascinating man. He holds immense power but wields it with wisdom and restraint. He saw through Captain Roach’s bluster and saw… something in me. But what?