The boy wasn't tall, but he stood straight, shoulders stiff like he was ready to be scolded. His clothes were clean but plain. Brown tunic, wool trousers, boots with one loose strap. His hair was the kind that didn't know how to lie flat, and his eyes narrowed the moment he noticed Mara watching him.
"I know you," he said, like it was a challenge. "You're the one who went into the forest."
Mara didn't reply right away. The wind had picked up behind her, tugging lightly at her sleeves. The scent of smoke was long gone. The ruins were behind her now, hidden by a bend in the trees. She watched him for a moment, gauging whether he was going to run or shout or call someone else.
He didn't. He crossed his arms.
"Well?" he said. "Are you going to say something, or just keep staring?"
Mara blinked once, then said, "Do you follow people often, or just me?"
That stopped him. "I wasn't following. You're not hard to spot, that's all. Everyone else stays on the road."
"Not everyone," she said. "You're here."
He shifted his weight. "I come this way sometimes. When I don't want to be seen."
She looked him over again. He was younger than her, probably by a year or two, but he carried himself like someone who hated being underestimated. His hands were scratched up, nails short and dirt under each one. Not a liar. Just impatient.
"You saw me at the ruins," she said. "Did you tell anyone?"
He shook his head, then hesitated. "No. Not yet."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Don't like being told what to do. And if I told anyone, they'd tell me to stay away from you."
Mara's expression didn't change, but something in her shoulders eased.
"What's your name?"
"Cal."
She waited. "Just Cal?"
He frowned. "That's what I'm called. Why, do you need the whole family tree?"
She almost smiled. "No. Cal's fine."
He looked past her then, toward the woods. "You saw it, didn't you? The mark?"
Mara's fingers brushed the edge of her satchel. "More than one."
"I thought so." He stepped closer, his voice lowering. "They show up sometimes. The marks. My father says they're nothing, but he burns them when he sees them. I saw one on our shed door once. The next day, our dog ran off and never came back."
Mara studied him more carefully now. "Your father burns the marks?"
"Yeah. Says it's old superstition, but he still does it. I asked about them once and he got angry. Really angry. Like I wasn't supposed to ask at all."
Her voice dropped to match his. "Have you seen anything else?"
He hesitated. "Maybe. I think someone's been putting them near certain houses. Not just ours. They show up, then something weird happens. Like someone gets sick, or a cow stops giving milk, or someone has a nightmare and can't wake up for hours."
She nodded. "Do you know who's placing them?"
He looked away. "No. But I think it's someone in the village. Someone important."
The silence between them stretched.
"Why are you telling me this?" Mara asked finally.
"Because you're not scared," Cal said. "You go where no one else will. You don't act like it's just stories. I think... I think someone's lying to all of us."
Mara didn't deny it. "They are."
Cal's gaze snapped back to hers. "Then help me find out who."
The path behind them stayed quiet. The wind dropped again. No birds called.
Mara took a slow breath. "Alright."
She didn't smile. Neither did he.
But something settled between them. Not trust yet. But agreement.
They walked back toward the road in silence. Two sets of footsteps where before there had only been one.