Rewind

“What do you do before you sow?”

Poludnica asked with a soulless smile. Jozef barely breathed as the golden sickle pressed against his throat.

“T-turn the soil… Break the clods… And… and… pull out the weeds.”

The forbidden hour had begun.

“Mr. Jozef!” Milena joined the trial.

Jozef turned. “Stand back, Milena! This is not your fight!” Then his expression shifted. “Milena? How do I know your name?”

“That’s not important now. I won’t let him lose precious people like I did.” She took half a step forward. “Poludnica! I’ll be your opponent for the next sixty minutes!”

“Milena, what are you doing?!” Dragomir shouted from afar.

“Just shut up!” she yelled without turning. ”Who do you think took care of Poludnica around the mill?”

Dragomir flinched. Of course she was this sharp when it mattered.

“Zduhach.”

“Yeah?”

“You can unhand me now. I believe in Milena. She’ll definitely defeat her.”

Zduhach smirked as he finally released him. Both dropped to the ground and waited.

The villagers stood silently behind them. Whether from fear or curiosity, none dared look away.

Poludnica drifted towards Milena and stopped inches from her face.

“How do you know when wheat is ready to harvest?”

Milena stood tall. “The stalks turn golden. The heads bend under their own weight. The grain should be hard when you bite it, not soft.”

Poludnica’s smile widened. She raised the sickle to Milena’s neck. “What happens if you harvest grain while it is still wet?”

Minutes passed. The more questions Milena answered, the wider Poludnica smiled.

“When should you water a field?”

“When the soil needs it.”

Slash!

Blood sprayed as the golden sickle cut Milena’s left cheek.

“That’s not an answer!” Poludnica raised her voice for the first time.

Dragomir clenched his fists. “You’ve got this…!”

“Not under the strongest sun. Early in the morning or later in the day, so less water is lost.”

The questioning went on and on. Every answer Poludnica disliked earned Milena another cut.

Jozef fell to his knees, breathing heavily. The heat was unbearable. If he interfered, he would only reset the trial and waste Milena’s effort.

“Final ten seconds remain, Daughter of the Miller. How do you harvest flax?”

“What ten seconds? The trial is over!” Milena protested. “That’s against the rules!”

“What rules, young lady?” Poludnica smiled so wide the corners of her mouth split.

“You’re nothing like the Poludnica back from my village.” Milena squeezed the pocket watch. “We even became friends after a few battles.”

“A human and a Field Spirit? Friends? Hahahahaha! That’s impossible! Now how do you harvest flax, you foolish baker?!”

“The time’s up, I said!” Milena stared at her without a single blink.

Poludnica’s smile vanished.

“It’s over…” Jozef sighed as he tried to get up on his feet.

Stab!

In an instant, the sickle sank into his stomach with a wet squelch. Blood burst from his mouth.

“Noooo!” Milena reached out, her voice cracking.

She gripped the pocket watch tightly… and it reacted. The second hand on the watch began moving. But not forward.

It went backwards.

One… two… three… four… five.

“A human and a Field Spirit? Friends? Hahahahaha! That’s impossible! Now how do you harvest flax, you foolish baker?!”

Milena blinked. “What was that…?”

“Answer me!”

The sheer force in her voice made Milena stumble.

The final seconds of the trial ran out again.

“You don’t cut it like grain. You pull it from the ground.” Zduhach appeared beside her and caught Milena before she fell.

“How dare you interfere?!” Poludnica hissed, her smile now resembling a beast baring its teeth.

She swung for Jozef’s stomach again.

Clang!

Dragomir deflected the strike with Jozef’s old sickle.

“The questioning is over.” He cut a strand of muddy hair from her head. “Now we get to tame you.”

Poludnica laughed.

“Foolish humans!” Her body scattered across the field, splitting into eight younger versions of herself.

“What’s going on?!” Jozef spun around, unable to follow them.

“Looks like defeating her the usual way no longer affects this one.” Dragomir gritted his teeth. “We have to try something. She’s still Poludnica. We have to play her game again!”

“There’s only four of us!” Zduhach drew his bow. “We can’t catch eight spirits!”

But then the villagers moved.

They scattered across the fields and did whatever they remembered farming was supposed to look like. Hoes struck the hardened soil, weeds were ripped from the ground, and handfuls of seeds were thrown into crooked, hastily dug furrows.

All eight Poludnica darted among the villagers, watching them work and questioning them. “What are you doing? Why are you doing that?”

The villagers answered. When one forgot, another filled in the gaps. Hoes kept striking the soil. More people joined in.

One of the Poludnica flickered and vanished.

Then another.

And another.

Until only two remained.

One looked older than the rest—presumably the original. Her smile was gone. A single tear ran down her cheek. “Is this it…?” she whispered. “Are they going to… take care of the soil now?”

But the final clone had other plans. She snatched the golden sickle from the original and lunged at a nearby villager.

Fwoosh!

But the blade never reached him.

There was an obstacle.

A living obstacle.

The sickle buried itself in Dragomir’s shoulder instead.

“Aaaghh!”

“Debilmir!” Zduhach shouted as he immediately sent an arrow through the last clone’s head, making it disappear.

Milena and Jozef stared at Dragomir, then at each other.

“Come on, watch, do it again!” Milena aimed the pocket watch at Dragomir. “Do it! Rewind time!” she yelled desperately, her voice trembling.

But nothing happened.

Zduhach leapt forward and caught Dragomir in his arms. “Hey, stay with me!”

Dragomir managed a smile. “Don’t worry, this is nothing… It’s just a scratch.”

“What were you trying to do? Play the hero?!”

“Heh… I guess a certain fool inspired me.”

Poludnica approached.

Zduhach shielded Dragomir, but Dragomir raised a hand.

The spirit pulled the sickle from his shoulder. Her face had returned to stone. “You will be fine.” She then turned to Milena. “Perhaps one day, we can even be friends.” After that, the soil swirled around her and she was gone.

***

Hours later, Dragomir opened his eyes in a familiar bed.

The sheets. The wardrobe beside him.

This was his home.

Milena, Zduhach, and Jozef leaned over the bed.

“So you’re finally awake.” Jozef spoke first.

“We were worried!” Zduhach rubbed his eyes and turned away.

“Hey, does it still hurt?” Milena gently held his hand.

“No… I’m fine.” He noticed the cuts across her face. “Are you?”

“Don’t worry, these aren’t deep enough to leave any scars.”

Dragomir sat up, looked around once more, and then patted the mattress.

He stood.

“Where’s the table?”

Jozef pointed toward the kitchen.

There it was.

The Little Table, Lay the Feast. Small enough for one man to carry, but made of metal rather than wood.

“I thought it was Zduhach who took it. So I took the blame.” Jozef began.

“Why would you do it for me, old man?”

“Because you reminded me of my son.” Jozef turned to Dragomir. “The villagers agreed we don’t need it anymore. Well… the majority did, at least. It’ll cost us, but we can buy enough from the nearby town until our first harvest. But that’s the price for our laziness… And if you really are the Second Bohatier, it belongs to you.” Jozef studied his face for a long moment.

“Jozef, I-“

“Is that how a child addresses his parent?”

Dragomir’s eyes welled up. “Father!” He threw himself into Jozef’s arms, and the two finally shared the hug that had been delayed for years.

“I can’t believe I forgot about my own son!” Jozef whispered. “And yet, you kept protecting me. Drawing the crowd’s attention away from me and blaming Poludnica for everything even before it was clear she was behind it…”

“Unfortunately, you’ll forget again…” Dragomir tightened the embrace. “But promise me one thing. Keep working the fields. Keep facing Poludnica again and again.” Then he let go of him. “Until the day I come back.”

Jozef held out his hand. “That’s a promise.”

***

With Arkona behind them, the trio continued their journey, the Little Table strapped to Dragomir’s back. His walking stick stayed where it belonged. In his old bedroom.

“So this was your home…” Milena stopped for one last look.

“Yeah…”

“How do you know it’s safe for them now?” Zduhach asked.

“Poludnica aren’t evil spirits. They protect the fertile soil and the people working on it.” Milena explained.

“The forbidden hour is nothing to be afraid of.” Dragomir added. “It’s just a way for Poludnica to make the farmers stop working in the field at high noon and make them rest.”

“It might be cruel, but heat and overwork kill more people than Poludnica ever would…”

“Oh, I get it!” Zduhach smacked a fist into his palm. “She’s dangerous, but nature kills way more people!”

“Yeah, you could put it that way…”

“Debilmir…” Zduhach stopped. “I just wanted to tell you that… if I was rude to you… just make sure you’ll do better so I don’t have to do it again!”

Dragomir blinked. Milena giggled.

And the three of them shared a much-needed laugh.

Chapter 12: END