Chapter 5

I originally wrote this story myself in my native language and then translated it into English with the help of AI. If you notice any errors or awkward phrasing, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.

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After long hours of wandering through the woods, Samuel finally managed to find a narrow, beaten path leading to Hilda's house. The young man looked quite pitiful—though he had chosen the most practical of his outfits that morning, it hadn't saved him from the harsh realities of the wilderness. His shoes were mercilessly caked in mud, the hem of his trousers was torn from encounters with blackberry briars, and a stain from some overripe berry blotched his shirt.

“Good morning, are you Hilda?” he addressed the woman in a friendly tone. She was sitting on the porch, skinning a rabbit carcass.

Hilda looked him up and down; when she saw his snow-white (once) suit, her face twisted into a grimace of pure disdain. Without a word, she returned to her work as if he weren't there.

“Eliah was right—she’s lived alone for years, and the town doesn't welcome her, so she’s grown quite wild. I mustn't make any sudden moves; I need to calm her first, so she understands I didn't come with ill intentions,” Samuel thought, shortening the distance almost on tiptoe.

“My name is Samuel. I moved to Clementia recently. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He offered a cautious smile and slowly, as if trying not to startle a wild animal, extended his hand to her.

“Is he talking to me like I’m a child? How revolting...” Hilda looked at the hand offered for a handshake with such loathing, as if the elder might stain her bloodied hands rather than the other way around.

“Get lost,” the woman grunted.

“What?..” Samuel blinked, bewildered.

“Get out, I said. Can’t you see you’re not welcome here?”

“I just wanted to introduce myself, I won’t take much of your time!” he promised solemnly.

“You’re already taking it. Who sent you, eh? I suppose you’re that Samuel everyone’s talking about. The new elder fresh out of the monastery, all bright and perfect enough to make one's teeth ache, just itching to inflict goodness on whoever crosses his path,” she spat venomously.

“You... know about me?”

Hilda looked away—revealing that some church members secretly came to her for forbidden herbs was certainly not part of her plan; after all, associating with an outcast was equated to complicity in sin and punished just as severely.

“What, did you think I was some hermit nun? Witches have to eat too, you know!”

“Fair point,” Samuel chuckled, taking a seat beside her on the porch.

“So, who sent you? The High Council? The town elders? Or... him?”

“Who is she talking about? Her father? Is their relationship so bad she doesn't even want to call him 'papa'? Then again, if Lotan never mentions her, it's quite possible that’s the case,” the young man pondered for a moment.

“I decided to come on my own.”

Hilda gave a contemptuous snort.

“On your own, sure. I’ll bet my life someone snitched on me. ‘Brother Samuel, a wicked witch lives in our forest, save us!’” she mimicked the parishioners in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

“But I never considered you a witch,” he said seriously, his sky-blue eyes seeming to want to peer directly into her soul.

“And what am I, in your opinion?”

“It seems to me that at some point in your life, you simply stumbled, and then suffered a terrible shock. The trials you’ve faced and the harsh judgment of those close to you became an unbearable burden on your shoulders. I simply want to share that load with you.”

Hilda’s eyes widened with rage. She dropped the carcass onto the ground and stood up, looming threateningly over Samuel, who suddenly felt a very strong urge to shrink into a ball.

“What are you?..” he squeaked, instinctively raising his palms to his face in a protective gesture.

“‘Simply stumbled’? ‘Trials’? Listen here, you puppy,” she abruptly yanked him toward her by the shirt collar, not caring at all how quickly the white cotton soaked up the mixture of blood and dirt. “Let me give you one piece of advice. Don’t meddle with people you know nothing about, and especially not with those who didn't ask for your help. It’ll be the worse for you.”

Hilda shoved him back sharply, causing him to lose his balance and land painfully on the porch.

“Get out,” she said, turning away and walking off.

“Wait!” Samuel ran after her, stumbling and limping from the radiating pain in his tailbone.

Hilda paid him no mind and simply continued her way toward the forest stream.

“Why won't you leave me alone? What do you want from me?” she asked, scooping up water to wash the grime from her forearms.

Samuel only now noticed that Hilda’s arms were crisscrossed with scars—some white and already healed, others quite fresh.

“Wild animals? Some wounds are indeed jagged, like from claws, but others are perfectly straight lines. A knife? Trap teeth? Could someone really cut themselves that often by accident? But then, who? Though a lone woman living in the heart of the forest is indeed easy prey for criminals. No wonder she's so angry that I don't understand her...”

Feeling his searching gaze, the herbalist frowned and hastily pulled down her sleeves.

“Forgive me, I was wrong,” Samuel lowered his gaze in a sign of repentance. “It was very arrogant of me to think I could understand the heart of a person I’ve only just met. I’m sorry; I regret that my words hurt your feelings.”

“You all say that,” she snorted. “What good are apologies if the one making them doesn't change a bit?”

“I will prove to you that these aren't just empty words,” the young man promised solemnly.

“Why? Do you want to be patted on the head for fixing an apostate and ridding the town of this shameful blot? If you think that after a couple of good deeds I’ll be moved to tears and return to church hand-in-hand with you, let me warn you: you’re mistaken.” Hilda crossed her arms in a defensive stance.

Her poisonous tone only strengthened Samuel’s resolve.

“How much pain must she carry in her soul to bite the hand that tries to feed her?” flashed through his mind.

“Yes, I would very much like you to return. But that doesn't mean everything I do is merely a means to that end!” he almost shouted, somewhat stung that his good intentions were being interpreted so twistedly.

“Yes, yes, of course, you say that now, all noble and such, but in a few months, you’ll surely start pressuring me and telling me what an ungrateful witch I am,” she tossed back, heading back toward her hut.

“I won't! It doesn't matter to me who you are—God’s servants do good to everyone, expecting nothing in return! Yes, I know—there is so much suffering in the world, and I am too weak; whatever I do, it will never be enough. But if there is even one more smile in Clementia, I will know I haven't tried in vain. Just as a helping hand was once extended to me, I want to extend it to others. When someone in front of me is in pain and struggling, I cannot simply pass them by!”

“Has anyone ever told you that excessive kindness is more annoying than rudeness?” Hilda rubbed her forehead, already beginning to tire of this relentless source of enthusiasm.

To make it unmistakably clear that the conversation was over, she strode into the house and pointedly slammed the door, sliding the bolt loud and clear.

“I’ll be back!” Samuel shouted, clearly seeing this not as a period, but a comma.

“I hope the wolves tear you apart on the way back, you damn savior!”

“Until tomorrow!”

“How can anyone be so naive?!” Hilda thought irritably, listening to the sound of retreating footsteps before going to retrieve the rabbit carcass she had forgotten in her haste. Her palm slipped into the sleeve of her dress in an almost unconscious gesture, her fingers beginning to stroke a recently healed wound. “Were the conditions in Saint Jerome's Monastery so sheltered that he only read about injustice and pain in books? When he eventually sees the filthy core of everything he believes so sacredly... how fast will he break? I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.”