Our house peeked out between the trees, warm and completely unaware of everything that had just happened.

  From the outside, it looked like nothing had changed.

  Inside me, something wouldn’t stop tightening.

  I nudged the fence open with my hip. It creaked.

  The girl stayed motionless in my arms.

  Light. And very real.

  I walked up to the porch. The floorboards complained under my steps.

  Light leaked out from under the door.

  He was awake.

  I swallowed.

  I had no idea how he was going to react.

  Or how I was supposed to explain this.

  Or if I even wanted to.

  I pushed the door open with my foot and stepped in.

  Grandpa was sitting by the fire, cup in hand, back straight.

  He didn’t look at me right away.

  But I heard the way he pulled in a breath.

  When he finally did look at us…

  everything stopped.

  His gaze moved from me to her.

  Then back to me.

  Then down to her again.

  He didn’t say a word.

  His eyes said enough.

  Recognition.

  Fear.

  Doubt.

  And something stronger than all of that.

  Duty.

  He stood up slowly.

  Set the cup down on the table with careful hands, as if any extra sound would be disrespectful.

  He came closer without raising his voice.

  「Where did you find her?」

  「In the forest,」 I said. 「Floating. Over a crater.」

  He didn’t answer right away.

  His eyes moved over the girl’s face—

  her breathing, her wounds.

  Then something shifted in his posture.

  A gesture so small I almost missed it.

  The way he lowered his head just a little.

  The precise way he brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek without touching her skin.

  I recognized it.

  Reverence.

  Not because she demanded it.

  But because he knew who she was.

  Or at least… he suspected.

  「Lay her in the guest bed,」 he said at last, still without looking at me.

  I nodded. Crossed the room slowly, making sure she didn’t bump into anything.

  I set her down carefully

  on the embroidered blanket we only used when someone important visited.

  Grandpa knelt beside her.

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  He lifted her sleeve just a little with two fingers, careful not to touch bare skin.

  I saw his brow tighten when he saw the color of her arm—

  fresh bruises, a few untreated cuts, dust and tiny branches still stuck to her skin.

  「She’s got bruises all along her side,」 he muttered, more to himself than to me. 「These marks… looks like she rolled down a slope.」

  He stood up again, movements controlled.

  His face didn’t show much.

  But something in his posture changed.

  An old tension. Instinctive.

  「Go get the herbalists. Now. Have them bring salves, bandages, and anything they’ve got for bruising and fever.」

  「This late? Don’t you think—?」

  「It wasn’t a request.」

  His eyes never left her.

  「And don’t look back,」 he added. 「I’ll have her clean and covered before you get home.」

  I’d never seen him act like that.

  Not with me.

  Not with anyone.

  He moved slowly,

  with a kind of precision that felt almost ceremonial.

  Like every gesture, no matter how small, had to be done right on the first try.

  It wasn’t just care.

  It was something else.

  Respect.

  The kind you save for something sacred.

  I took my cloak from the hook, opened the door, and stepped outside.

  Rain met me without hostility.

  Honestly, I liked walking under a sky like this.

  The air smelled cleaner.

  The earth felt more alive.

  But as I closed the door behind me, a strange knot settled in my stomach.

  Like I already knew that, by the time I came back…

  everything would be different.

  The herbalists’ house was on the north slope.

  Close enough to be 「near,」 far enough to be annoying when you were in a hurry.

  I didn’t run.

  But my heart stayed lodged in my throat the whole way.

  I knocked three times.

  Nothing.

  Again.

  A dim light came on inside.

  After a few seconds, a voice—half asleep, more reflex than intention:

  「…Who’s there…?」

  「It’s me,」 I said. 「I’m here from my grandfather. It’s urgent.」

  Shuffling steps inside.

  The door opened a crack.

  And there she was:

  the woman of impossible infusions—

  or, when she wasn’t listening, the 「witch who isn’t,」 as some in town called her.

  Her robe was half off one shoulder, hair completely tangled.

  But her eyes were sharp the moment she saw me.

  「What happened?」

  「Someone’s hurt.

  Grandpa said we need bandages, salves, something for bruises and fever. She’s unconscious.」

  「Someone?」

  「A girl. Young. I don’t know who she is.

  But I found her… in the forest.」

  Her husband appeared behind her with a face that said 「here we go again.」

  And then a voice deeper and rougher than I expected, still stuck halfway in sleep:

  「So what is it this time, broken bones? Or did you come to steal our thyme syrup?」

  I turned my head.

  Nael.

  Hair sticking up in every direction, baggy sleep shirt,

  leaning against the inner doorway like he’d walked out of the wrong stage play.

  「Good evening to you too,」 I said.

  「Third time this term, you know that?」 he yawned. 「And we’re only halfway through.」

  「This time it’s not me.」

  「You?」 He stretched his arms above his head. 「You don’t have enough imagination to show up at this hour with a good excuse.」

  「Nael, please,」 his mother said, still rummaging through a box. 「If you’re going to talk, go put on something decent.」

  「I am dressed for the occasion,」 he replied. 「Late-night mystery injury drama. Perfect outfit.」

  His father muttered under his breath:

  「Someone throw cold water on him.」

  「Hey,」 Nael protested, already heading toward the kitchen. 「I’m providing moral support here. Make sure that goes on record.」

  The herbalist’s wife looked back at me, more serious now, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

  「Tell your grandfather we’ll be there right away.

  And that he should have hot water ready.」

  I nodded.

  Stepped back and let the door close.

  The house smelled like thyme and resin.

  For some reason…

  that calmed me down.