My earliest memory was a gust of wind blowing through me toward the stormy night sky. As if carving a path forward for me. A flash of lightning highlighted the tall marpine trees that towered over me.
I couldn't remember my life prior to that, nothing but an empty shallow memory of the past. I could only remember what happened that night with overwhelming clarity; my desperate headlong journey through the Marpine woods filled with bruises and scars, the yelling voices of my pursuers, the heavy rainfall battering me, and the hefty weight of my sword swung around my waist.
The voice of my mother repeatedly echoing in my mind was the only thing that kept me conscious and sane, despite all the wounds and the harboring fatigue threatening to overtake my body.
'I'm sorry Arun I hope you can forgive me for this.'
I sped up my pace when I began to hear my pursuers gaining ground on me. Their distant shouting being drowned out by a combination of both the adrenaline of my running and the distance between us.
The sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The rustling leaves and the distant calls of birds seemed like an eerie chorus, heightening my sense of urgency. My muscles ached, but fear fueled my every step, pushing me beyond my physical limits. My little sister still in my arms.
Her small body trembled against mine, and her frightened sobs echoed in my ears, pushing me to run even faster. The trees blurred past us as we darted between the shadows, trying to evade our unseen pursuers. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were out there, and the fear of what they might do if they caught us fueled my every step.
The forest seemed to stretch on forever, and I had no idea where we were or where we were headed. All I knew was that I had to keep moving, keep running, to keep my sister safe. The ground beneath my feet was uneven and covered in fallen leaves, but I navigated the terrain as best I could, desperate to find a way out of this nightmare.
As I ran, flashes of unfamiliar faces and places danced at the edge of my consciousness, but they remained just out of reach. It was as if I was trying to grab onto pieces of a puzzle, but they kept slipping away, leaving me with a frustrating sense of emptiness.
I stumbled over exposed roots and fallen branches, but adrenaline kept me going. I didn't know who my pursuers were or why they wanted me, but their determination to catch me was evident, and I wasn't willing to find out their intentions.
My senses were on high alert, and every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made me flinch. I couldn't afford to slow down, not even for a moment. The forest was vast, and I had no idea if there was any civilization nearby where I could find help or safety.
Time lost all meaning as the adrenaline-fueled minutes turned into what felt like an eternity. I had no idea if I was getting closer to safety or if my pursuers were gaining ground. The only thing that mattered was putting as much distance as possible between me and my sister and them.
Finally, exhaustion threatened to overcome me. My legs burned, my lungs screamed for respite, and my heart pounded in my chest like a war drum. I fought through the pain, knowing that stopping now would mean capture and who knows what else.
Just when it felt like my body couldn't take any more, I burst out of the treeline and stumbled onto a gravel path. My eyes widened as I saw a small cabin nestled among the trees ahead. I had no idea if it was abandoned or inhabited, but I didn't care. With my last ounce of strength, I pushed myself forward and reached the cabin's door.
I banged on it desperately, hoping for help. A voice from inside called out, asking who was there. My words came out in gasps, barely coherent, but the urgency in my voice was apparent. The door swung open, revealing an elderly woman. She had lime green eyes and silver locks of hair that began to gray in some areas. She looked at me with concern and kindness.
"My… why are you children all the way out here? You must be cold, my dear. Come in and wash up, supper is almost ready."
The warmth that spilled from the cabin wrapped around me like a thick, invisible cloak. The scent of burning wood and herbs greeted me as the door creaked open. The elderly woman who had answered stood for a moment, wide-eyed at the sight of me—soaked, muddy, bleeding, and cradling my sister.
"My… why are you children all the way out here?" she said, voice soft and touched with concern. "You must be cold, my dear. Come in and wash up. Supper is almost ready."
I stepped inside, my knees buckling the moment the door shut behind us. She rushed forward, catching my sister as I sank to the wooden floor. I tried to speak, to explain, but my lips felt too heavy. Exhaustion had caught up to me.
"There now," she said, kneeling beside me. Her eyes were full of worry, confusion, and urgency. She placed her free hand on my shoulder, "You've both been out in that storm too long."
She gathered my sister into her arms—light as a bundle of linen—and carried her gently to a bed tucked near the hearth. I watched helplessly, my breathing ragged and heart thundering, unable to do anything but lie there in the warmth and safety I'd nearly forgotten existed.
The woman returned, helped me to a bench beside the fire, and wrapped a towel around my shoulders. "My name is Agatha," she said as she pressed a wooden cup into my hands. "You don't have to talk now. Drink that. You're safe here."
Safe. The word echoed strangely in my mind.
The liquid in the cup was hot and bitter, filled with some kind of healing root, but I drank it down in greedy gulps. My hands trembled so hard I nearly spilled half of it. Agatha returned a moment later with a bowl of stew, thick with vegetables and chunks of meat. I devoured it with barely a pause, my throat sore, my stomach clenching as it processed real food for the first time in… I didn't know how long.
She said nothing as I ate, only watched, moving from me to my sister, checking her forehead, covering her with another blanket. At times, she would sit down beside me, careful to place distance between me and her. Other times she would sit next to my sister, a gentle hand resting on her tender body.
After I had eaten, she placed a heavy wool blanket over my shoulders and sat beside me.
"You've been through something terrible," she said gently. "I don't need to know all of it. Not tonight." Her gaze was fixed on the fire, and so was mine. For a while, neither of us said anything; the silence was tranquil and comfortable.
I glanced at my sister. Her cheeks had some color now, her breathing slower. She looked fragile beneath the layers, but alive. That alone made me feel like I could finally exhale.
"My name is Arun," I said quietly. My voice hung in the air of the cozy house, the crackling of the fire was the only other sound that could be heard.
Agatha gave a soft smile. "Well, Arun, you and your sister are welcome here. You'll sleep by the fire tonight. Tomorrow, we'll talk more."
She rose and busied herself with cleaning up. I didn't realize I had been swaying until she came back with a bundle of dry clothes and gently steered me to a straw mattress on the floor near the hearth. She helped me change, turning away respectfully as I shed the soaked rags and pulled on the warm tunic and pants.
I lay down slowly, the aching in my limbs blooming now that the danger had passed. My sword, still sheathed, was placed beside me by the wall. I reached for it briefly, but Agatha shook her head.
"You're safe," she said again, her voice a whisper this time. "Just rest."
She turned the lanterns down low and moved to the far side of the cabin. I listened to her hum softly under her breath as she tidied the shelves and stirred something into a clay pot by the fire. The light from the hearth flickered on the walls, painting the room in hues of gold and amber. My sister murmured in her sleep, and I turned to look at her, reassured by the steady rise and fall of her chest.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I let my muscles go slack. The sounds of the storm had faded into a gentle patter on the roof, a lullaby of distant rain and crackling wood. I stared into the dancing firelight, my thoughts heavy but slow.
Mother's voice again…
"I'm sorry, Arun. I hope you can forgive me."
What had she done? Why couldn't I remember anything before that night?
Pieces hovered just out of reach—faces, places, names—but they dissolved the moment I tried to grab them. Still, something told me this place—this woman—might be a beginning. Or at least a pause. A place to breathe.
I curled beneath the blanket, the heat of the fire brushing against my face, and let my eyes fall shut. The sword was still within reach. My sister was safe. My body, though battered and sore, was finally still.
And for now…
That was enough.
That was how my sister and I came to live with the old woman named Agatha kirsten. Despite our short time living under Agatha's roof, I, a boy with a broken sword and no memories of the past, have always been grateful for her and only wished it could've lasted longer.