A gust of wind, strength unparalleled to anything the woman had felt before, passed straight through her, the coolness sinking straight to the bone, eliciting full-bodied shivers from her exposed form. Even in these cold, frigid conditions, she did not falter, did not back down to find some sort of shelter; before her was a view she had never experienced before.

For one, there were no trees. She had seen expanses before--wide, open plains housing farmlands and small villages--but in recent memory? Her life up to this point was predominated by trees, bushes, and anything that could grow leaves. But now? From the relatively steep slope in front of her was a view that went on for miles; farmlands, rivers, domesticated animals! Compared to the forest, she felt like she was staring at the peak of civilization.

Houses! I can see houses! There must be people living there.

Anticipation welled within her, an unprecedented excitement over the numerous opportunities that had appeared before her.

The climb was hard, the ground inclining at a steeper and steeper rate until it felt like she had to physically climb up a mountain rather than simply traverse a large hill. One gaze around her showed the earth sloping downwards but in curving in, like she was on the cusp of a large bowl. Perhaps, the forest is located in a caldera? She looked behind, seeing nothing but the treetops standing tall, the opposite side of this supposed formation hidden from view. I'd have to ask someone. Which I can do. When I go to the village.

A village, tantalisingly close. From her location, she could see further than she could walk within a day, and there was a village way out there. Sparse woodlands dotted about the place hid most of the horizon from her, as well as naturally occuring hills unlike the caldera she had been living in. The fields were unlike what she had expected fields to be--perhaps her lack of personal experience lent itself to a misconception but she was expecting vast spaces of golden wheat or large grazing fields divided by hedge rows, housing a multitude of cattle.

What she instead saw was... Brown. Just brown. Like tilled soil but any seeds had been sowed, the fields were empty. Here and there, she did see the indicative sheen of colour, be it golden or green, suggesting it was actively being used, but the vast majority of the space was simply... Empty.

That scarcity of actual farming wasn't the only odd thing that caught her eye; it was the massive, gaping hole situated right in the centre of the village that drew greater attention to it. In a way, it was like its own mini caldera, though perhaps crater was a better name for it; houses lined the perimeter of the crater in a haphazard fashion, placed without a care for their position relative to the whole. It was like the houses were there before the crater, though how a crater had formed without destroying the houses was a mystery within itself.

Even though she was so high up, she was unable to see the centre of the crater--she had no clue just how deep it was. Perhaps the crater is the reason why the fields are empty? I wouldn't be surprised if there was a connection.

For now, the village wasn't where she was planning on going. She could tell, even from so far way and from such a height, it would take at least a solid day of walking to reach the village from the closest farm. Not to mention, she actually had to reach the farm first, which would take even more time.

First, however, I need to get down. If I took my time, I should hopefully make it towards the nearest farm within the day. At night, by the latest. Hand hands, gripping her essence stone and knife, tightened as a goal formed in her mind.

Renald had seen a fair few strange occurrences in his time. Though his bones were achey, his mind encyclopedian in regards to his autobiographical memory, he found himself never growing truly used to life; there was always something odd thrown his way.

The crater, for instance, that had infected his town. The sudden emergence of sinkhole, so large in radius and so non-destructive to anything that was not within its range, was more magical than natural phenomenon. Still, he got used to it, as everyone else did. Everyone that remained, that is.

Even the storms that had begun to gather shortly after the sinkholes emergence were similar; what once were frightening, he had acclimated to much like any other weather pattern that he had seen during his life. All he had to do was shift around the timings when he planted and harvested crops and the increased rainfall proved to not be an issue.

Not that it would've been a problem now, anyway; with only a handful of sheep left, their shelter on elevated land, the weather barely impacted them.

But these things all took time. Some people were mad, adventuring all over the place, trading one home for another without even blinking an eye. That wasn't for him; the familiarity was a comfort.

These thoughts, these memories, resurfaced in his mind--as they were wont to do, every so often--as he stared at the most peculiar woman in front of him.

For one, her skin was incredibly pale and had such a sheen after she had washed the dirt and grime of herself. If not for her lack of personal items, he'd have confused her for a noble; he doubted she had ever seen a single day of manual labour in her life. In this way, there was something paradoxical contradictory about her; the way she wolfed down food like she hadn't eaten in weeks, how she expelled grunts of pleasure at the taste of the simplest meal he could prepare, but while handling the bowl with hands as smooth as a nobles and fingernails long enough to prove doing anything inconvenient. Even her blonde hair--a colour he had rarely seen himself--just further exemplified how much of an outsider she was.

Then there was the matter of her presence here; she turned up, unanounced, arriving from the direction of the Liefshill rather than Rinnerden. Furthermore, she had no clothes, no items, and a single dagger serving as her sole weapon. He didn't even know how to classify the stone she seemed strangely fixated on, refusing to let it leave her grasp at all.

Keeping a stone or pebble, no matter how small, in your hands at all times seemed very inconvenient to him but she maneuvered the small pebble between her fingers with practised ease, holding whatever he passed to her in her hands like the stone wasn't even there.

As for her clothes, at least she was wearing some now--though, 'clothes' would be a generous name to term her garments; 'sack' might have been more applicable. He still had some of Agnis' clothes but, even in her old, frail age, she was still a mountain of woman whereas this newcomer was diminutive in comparison. He had to modify one of Agnis' tunics with spare fabric he kept for repairs utilising his sub-par sewing skills to construct what he tentatively called a dress for the woman. She didn't object to the clothes, graciously accepting them, though pulled at it incessantly like the quality offended her. Just another thing he would expect from a member of the gentry.

The last, most confounding fact about her existence, her presence here, was talking. Simply, she couldn't. Could she make sounds? Yes. Did he understand what those sounds meant? No. He was certain it was another language--with the way she spoke like she expected him to understand what she was saying--but she refused to speak in a language he could understand. At first, part of him believed that maybe she might not know the language, but he quickly dismissed the notion; in all his decades of living here, not once had he met someone who didn't know even the most basic of phrases.

But, still, reality seemed more and more evident. Everything he said, everything he was trying to tell her, she just didn't respond to. Even the few times he tried to get her to do something--to demonstrate at least a modicum of comprehension--she failed miserably!

He had to come to terms with the fact; she couldn't speak the language.

She was scared at first, hope turning to despair evident in her eyes, in her slumped shoulders, but life did eventually enter her again, once he provided her with basic necessities. One small section of his mind was telling him to not feed her, not clothe her, and just send her on her way; the circumstances were suspicious, and he was under no obligation to aid her in anyway. Not knowing anything, not having anything; it was clear she was in something deep, and he was only going to drag himself down with her by consorting with her.

That was the rational part. Morally, he couldn't bring himself to ignore her. She was clearly exhausted, covered in dirt, and had nothing. Nothing! How could he just leave her like that?

And, besides, he was getting old; there wasn't much life left in his old bones, even if his body refused to show it, and he wanted to live life how he wanted to. It was why he was still here, afterall.

Dragged out of his thoughts was the woman, bowl empty and deep, blue eyes staring deep into his own. He couldn't quite get a grasp of her age, though she looked young.

"Food?" He asked, one of the few words she had learnt. Even learning the language was strange; when he pointed towards the meat and said 'food', she gathered what he meant, repeating him and pointing towards other food. When he asked her if she wanted food, her face contorted in confusion, clearly thinking about what she had heard. She did, eventually, figure out what he meant, pointing at the food again, but she was less confident this time.

She nodded, pushing the bowl towards him as he shifted some bread towards her. She grasped it, familiarity flashing across her face as she turned it around, inspected it, and then broke it in half. The bread wasn't soft though she tore through it with ease, casting a suspicion through his mind about her level; specifically, about her power.

How strong would she be? If she did survive in the Liefshill by herself, she would've had to deal with the boars. Maybe the rocknaws, if she got unlucky as well.

Even if she was lucky, she had to be a fairly high level, probably got a class. She had a weapon, yes, but those beasts were fast--he would know--so she was bound to get hurt when fighting them.

Again, his ruminations were interrupted, not because the woman demanded his attention but because of what she did; though his essence and spirit was weak--barely even average, as far as he knew--he felt his gaze pull towards the bread in her hands. He saw a tendril of green light, as thin as a blade of grass and as solid as a cloud, burrow into the dough. Five tendrils emerged from one hand, five from another, each originating from her fingers. His eyes went wide, alarm sounding in his head as he tried to maintain his cool.

Magic. What branch is that? It's neither fire nor water--the colour's completely wrong. Could it be rock? I don't recall what colour that one was.

Still, this is bad; I doubt she's a part of the Dominion and if they get wind that she's here... They're still in Rinnerden, last I was there.

He coughed, trying to get her attention--she seemed to respond better to that than to words. Her head perked up, mouth chewing mechanically as her eyes bored into his.

"The-the magic," he pointed towards the bread, gesturing at what she had done. Her eyes followed, looking at her hands. "Don't do that. At, least, don't let people see you do that." She lifted the bread up, staring at it for a second before tentatively offering it towards him. He shook his head.

"Magic," He pronounced the word slowly, trying to let his accent affect him as little as possible. Her eyes showed no recollection. Damn. This would be easier if I could demonstrate it myself.

"The green light," he tried again, gesturing towards his own clothes. They were dyed green, not because he was particularly fond of the--though, he had to admit, it had grown on him over the years--but it was better at handling grass stains. "Green," He enunciated.

She pointed towards her own clothes, saying mangling the word 'green'. He shook his head, saying 'clothes' and then pointing at his own and then at hers. Again, she repeated it--something she did with every word.

An idea sprung to him, prompting him to stand up suddenly out of his chair. She, slightly shocked by his alacrity, made to move herself but he stopped her with a gesture, causing her to sit back down. "Wait," he said, before leaving.

Thankfully, he wasn't gone for long, having briefly stepped outside to pull up a few blades of grass before heading back inside.

The woman, thankfully, hadn't moved; she was sitting in the same seat and he hadn't heard anything to suggest she moved one bit.

He sat back down on his chair and placed the grass on the table. "Grass," He said, pointing at them.

"Grass," She repeated after him.

Next, he pointed at his tunic again, saying 'green', and then held up the grass to his tunic, saying 'green' when pointing at the grass. Realisation passed through her eyes, her eyebrows raising slightly, as she spoke a word he was unfamiliar with.

Next, he pointed at her hands and said 'green' again. She shook her head in denial, saying "Something green,". He didn't know what the first word meant, only that it was short and monosyllabic. He guessed it meant 'no' in her language.

Once more, he was perplexed at what to do next. How do you talk to someone when you don't speak the same language?

So, he picked up one half of her bread, tried to mimic what she did, and said 'green'. She responded with another word that he didn't know.

"Magic," He tried again, waving the bread slightly.

This time, she picked up her half of the bread, bites taken out of it, and the green light appeared once more. It travelled all over the bread before digging in, permeating the dough. He still had no idea what kind of magic it was, though it was probably harmless given that she was using it on bread that she was eating.

"Yes!" He nodded his head excitedly as she was slightly taken aback by his energy. "Magic," He repeated once more.

Next, he pointed towards his eyes with two fingers, saying 'see' then pointed back at her fingers, saying 'magic'. She repeated, though with much confusion over what he just said.

He paused, wondering how he was going to get his point across. He felt slightly silly, talking like a young child just learning to speak, but he easily shoved those thoughts out of his mind.

"I see magic," He began, pointing from his eyes then to her hands. "You see magic," Pointing from her eyes, back to her hands. "No," He finished, his tone firm and his face stern as best he could, hoping to get across how much of a bad idea it is to do magic.

She didn't repeat after him, her face a picture of confusion. She was clearly thinking about what he had just said.

A long, resigned sigh escaped his mouth. What have I gotten myself into?