At nightfall, the time for dinner had come.
After Helena explained the situation, her mother was very touched.
She helped Stella immediately, preparing a warm bathtub, clean clothes, and a comforting meal.
"Mrs. Meryl is very kind and generous," Stella thought to herself as she dried her hair with a towel. "Not everyone would do this for a complete stranger. I must find a way to thank them before I leave."
But deep down, she knew her gratitude alone wouldn't be enough. She owed them more than a thank-you.
"Now, I have to find out more about this continent... and the people living in it. Why are they still living like it's old times?"
Since arriving in the village, Stella had the strange feeling she had crossed into a parallel world.
Time felt slower here. The air was purer, the people simpler, and the technology... nonexistent.
While Stella was lost in thought, Helena and her mother were in the kitchen, whispering about her.
"Look at her, Mother," Helena said softly. "She must have suffered a lot in the forest. Since she came, she hasn't spoken much. She's so quiet."
Her mother nodded while stirring the pot. "She must be very tired... and hungry too. Come on, let's go have dinner with her."
The dinner was a humble vegetable soup, freshly baked bread, and a plate of sliced fruit, but for Stella, it felt like a feast.
After finishing her meal, she let out a small sigh. The warmth of the food began to soften the tightness in her chest that had been there for days.
Helena had prepared a mattress on the floor for the two of them to share.
After cleaning up, she lay down beside Stella, who was still staring up at the wooden ceiling.
"I really thank you," Stella said quietly, "If it weren't for you, I would've spent another night freezing in the forest."
Helena smiled, her eyes half closed, "No problem. I couldn't just leave you there, could I?"
Then she turned to her, warmth in her eyes, "Right... Tell me, how old are you, Alina?"
"Seventeen. What about you?"
Helena raised her hands from under her blanket and started counting on her fingers.
"Fifteen... I think," She replied after a pause, wasn't completely sure.
There was a moment of silence between them.
Stella asked, "What about your father? Where is he?"
Helena hesitated before answering, "Father? I don't remember him well. He died when I was three... That's what Mother says, he had traveled back to his hometown in the west and never returned. Even my mother isn't from this village. She came here after they married."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's okay," Helena replied with a faint smile, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead.
A few minutes passed in silence. Then Helena asked, "What about you? Did you come here with your parents?"
"No. I came with some of my relatives."
"Oh... they must be worried about you right now."
"Yeah... they must be."
Helena soon drifted off to sleep, but Stella remained awake, her thoughts still turning.
"I already feel bad for lying." she thought.
"But it's not like I have a choice. I can't just go around trusting people I've only known for a few hours."
Eventually, exhaustion overcame her, and she fell into a deep sleep.
Two weeks later.
Stella had been living with Helena and her mother ever since.
They were kind and refused to let her leave, insisting someone would come looking for her.
She tried a few times to sneak away, but each time Meryl or Helena would catch her and gently pull her back.
During these two weeks, Stella had learned more about the village, its customs, and its people.
She adapted quickly to their dialect, and through helping Helena with chores, she interacted more with the villagers.
Most of them were simple folk, curious but not intrusive. And in their quiet ways, they accepted her presence without too many questions.
One sunny afternoon, Stella was helping Meryl sort herbs in the kitchen when Helena burst through the front door, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Mother! Have you heard the news spreading through the village?"
Meryl raised an eyebrow. "What news?"
"The convoy! It's coming here in just a few days!"
Meryl stopped chopping and looked at her daughter. "Oh... really?" Her voice was low, almost distant. Her expression changed, as if something had suddenly weighed her down.
Stella noticed the shift but didn't say anything.
Helena, unaware of her mother's discomfort, continued cheerfully, "Yes, I'm sure of it! And we'll finally see Uncle Albert again after two whole years!"
Stella tilted her head, curious. "Which convoy is this?"
"It's a trade caravan," Helena explained, "They travel across the continent, stopping in small towns like ours. They sell all sorts of things, spices, fabrics, tools... anything you can imagine!"
Stella's curiosity deepened. "Do they come here often?"
"Only once every two years," Helena said. "But they bring news from the other regions too. That's why everyone gets excited."
"And this... Uncle Albert. Is he part of the caravan?"
"Yes," Helena grinned. "He's not really my uncle by blood, but he's like family to us. He's one of the caravan leaders."
Then she paused, "Maybe... maybe he could help you get back to where you came from."