Bound by fate

After a few hours, my clothes had finally dried. A sharp pang gnaws at my stomach, gurgling. «Maybe we should look for something to eat.»

«Speak for yourself, I don’t need anything.»

“Of course, after she raided my kitchen, now she says that…” I approach the lake to drink some water. I’m not sure it’s wise, but it tastes fine. «Before we head out, could you give me something to carry some water?»

«Is that a wish?» she asks, her smile like a merchant’s.

«No… it’s fine,» I say, standing up.

She rolls her eyes. «Ah, such a bore.» She snaps her fingers, and a pumpkin-shaped canteen appears at my waist. «This is the last favor I’ll do for you!» she exclaims, pointing and scrunching her nose.

I take the canteen, surprised that she actually gave it to me. I look at her, voice low: «Thanks.» I bend to fill the pumpkin with water.

Meanwhile, Laila sighs and extinguishes the fire. “If she weren’t so lazy, the things she does would be even more impressive.”

We start walking through the forest—or rather, I start walking, and Laila lies comfortably in a nest on top of my head.

As I search, I pass a bush full of berries. “Could they be poisonous?” I pick one, bring it to my mouth, then quickly let it go. A little further, coral-shaped mushrooms sprout from the ground. “They look good, but what if they’re not?”

«Hungry?» Laila floats upside down in front of my face, breaking the silence. «You could eat one of those red mushrooms. After all, a quick death in another world is an experience worth trying.»

I don’t even have the strength to respond. I continue until I stop in front of a tree. Its fruits are too high, and even if I wanted to climb, I can’t find a grip. Hunger gnaws at me, my strength fading. “Maybe I could try hunting… but how?” I glance at the ground, pick up a stone. “Maybe I could use this as a weapon.”

«What are you doing? Got a brilliant idea?» Laila chuckles. «You’re not seriously thinking of hunting with that, are you? How, exactly? Throw it randomly and hope to bonk something?»

«I don’t know… you think I can’t take down one of those hares?»

She covers her mouth, trying to suppress a laugh.

At that moment, a light catches our attention. In the distance, a small being hops. It looks like a winged hare, but its fur glows the same deep blue as fire.

On impulse, I throw the stone—it barely flies a few meters. «What was that?» Laila bursts out laughing.

The hare notices us and flees, hunger overpowers reason, I chasing it, leaping over branches and roots, stumbling, Laila’s laughter pounds in my head, I get up, glance around, but the hare is gone. I keep moving forward and find myself in a clearing. It should be easier to see here, but nothing—it's gone. I collapse to the ground, out of breath, and drink some water.

«Already given up?» Laila asks, sitting in front of me, resting her face on her hand.

«Even if I had? It’s too fast, I’m too hungry… I can’t keep up. Sorry you ended up with a human like me.»

«I see… so you’re just pitying yourself,» she stands, «I’ll go see what’s in that village.»

I’m not sure I can trust her; she’s spent the whole time teasing me. She extends a hand toward me, eyes rolling. She grabs my head, lifting me off the ground. «Ah!» “So it’s true.”

«What’s that ‘ah!’?»

«N-nothing.»

«Don’t trust what I say?»

«N-no no, it's just that I surprised myself while levitating.»

She tilts her head, eyes scanning my face. «Alright… but don’t get used to it,» she says, turning away. Suddenly I fall. «Ow!»

She chuckles to herself as I stand up. “Couldn’t wait for me to put my feet down, could she?”

°°°

When we reach the village, I move slowly. The cold air bites my face, but what strikes me most is the silence. Not a bark, not a wisp of smoke from a chimney. The village I hoped to find alive is a ghost of wood and stone. The houses are like skeletons, leaning on each other, their peaked roofs drooping like weary shoulders. “Too bad, I would have loved to see a living town instead of another historical site… But now I can explore! Wonder what I might find differently!”

I approach one, running my hand along the wall. “The wood almost looks blackened… How long has it been here? Still, the preservation is impressive; you can see the marks of the axes that worked it.” Some houses are mere piles of moss-covered rubble, others still stand, beams exposed.

I enter one of the better-preserved houses, pushing the door with my shoulder. A low creak echoes. Inside, the air smells of damp wood and earth. The small windowless openings are just black holes letting in whistling drafts. Not much to see, just a long-cold hearth at the center, and a single, long bench attached to the wall.

Looking around, I notice a wooden hook in the darkest corner. On it hang tattered remnants of clothes, emitting a musty stench that turns my stomach. Just touching them sends chills down my spine.

There’s a thick brown wool cloak with a rusty pin still attached at one shoulder. Underneath hangs a coarse yellowed linen tunic, frayed at the collar. Nearby, worn wool trousers, patched many times, and a stained linen apron. “The people who lived here were probably ordinary villagers.”

Continuing my inspection, I spot a faded carving on a beam. “Looks like a snail shell… hmm, no, maybe a horn.” I focus to see better in the dark: in the center, a triangle topped by a trapezoid missing its upper side. “I think I’ve seen this in some mythology book… Of course! The symbol of Veles! But what’s it doing in this world?”

I exit the house, scratching my chin. I trip over something, kneel, and push the grass aside to see what it is… I freeze. Pretending nothing happened, I stand and turn. I hear the grass rustle behind me. I don’t want to look. Something light touches my shoulder. “Don’t turn, don’t turn, don’t turn!” I slowly turn my head. A skeletal hand rests on my shoulder. I lift my eyes, hoping it isn’t what I fear. A skull—yes, the same skull—faces forward, just centimeters from my head. A shiver runs down my spine. It slowly turns to me, vertebrae creaking, jaw snapping open with a dry crack: «Welcome!»

«AAAAAA!» I punch it, sending the skull flying, and the skeleton collapses under its own weight, crumbling. I clutch my chest, heart pounding, breath still racing.

Laila emerges from the pile of broken bones, laughing as she leans against me. «You should see your face!» she exclaims, wiping tears from her laughter.

I have nothing to say—or rather, only insults come to mind. Trying to calm myself, I look around. I see the remains of what were once villagers and soldiers: bones, rags, damaged armor, as if they were attacked by something.

At that moment, I spot the glowing hare again. It has stopped in front of the largest, best-preserved house. My stomach growls, hunger pushing me forward. I run to the blockhouse, peeking through a gap between the threshold and the door to study the scene. But what I see ruins my appetite.

The hare sits on the floor, and a little girl, no older than nine, strokes it. On closer look, the tiny creature seems like a will-o’-the-wisp, yet the way her hand glides over it makes it seem tangible.

«What are you looking at?» Laila asks, leaning forward and nudging the creaky door. The girl spins, frowning at me. She grabs the hare, clutching it to her tattered clothes.

“Well, we got caught.” We enter, and the girl backs to the wall, curling up. Though her face is frowning, her eyes are wide like a fawn caught in headlights.