Nolan knew that beasts ate people.
Maybe it was all boasting, but the old village hunter liked to tell the story over drinks—how, in his youth, he had hunted down a man-eating tiger.
According to him, after days and nights of tracking and skirmishing, the brute finally fell. When they hauled the carcass back to the village and slit it open, they pulled, straight from its stomach, a human hand—not yet digested—
Nolan looked at the gore-smeared shape. Perhaps this was the same sort of thing. Some unlucky soul, mauled by a brown bear and eaten whole.
“Diya, it’s all right. The bear’s dead.” He let out a breath and called toward the front room.
“Eh? Really?” Diya poked her head around the rear door, saw the wreck the backyard had become, and gagged.
“Ugh—It stinks!”
Nolan fought down his own nausea with a bitter smile. At least the bear hadn’t attacked them.
Even so, a false alarm this may have been—dragging a rotting hulk this size out of the yard was a nightmare in its own right.
Wait. If it was already decomposing, then how had a carcass like this… simply ended up in their yard?
“Diya, were you home? How did this thing get in here?”
“Uh… I was splitting kindling in the front. I heard a weird sound from the back,” Diya said. “Then I saw a bear sprawled there. I ran out right away.”
Strange indeed. Nolan frowned, then turned his gaze to the human shape spilled from the bear’s belly—
“A child…? How unlucky. Could a bear really swallow that big a piece whole…?”
He raised his eyes—and heard the rasp of breath.
No. Not right.
Not a corpse… Could they be alive?
The thought jolted him. How could anyone be alive inside a bear’s belly? Yet the faint, ragged breathing grew clearer.
To be sure, he edged in and touched the figure lightly.
Alive—!
Saving them mattered more than anything. Nolan waded into the reek and dragged the thin body out of the bear’s gut.
“Hey—hey, can you hear me?”
He gathered the stranger in his arms, patted their cheek, and called low. He wiped the crusted blood from the face with his sleeve and uncovered a delicate, pallid visage.
“Brother, if you’re going to clean—at least bring tools first…” Diya tiptoed closer with her skirt lifted—then cried out at the sight by the carcass.
“Ah! It’s a girl!”
Nolan noticed that the girl’s clothes were little more than ragged strips. Her lips had gone blue from the cold. Her exposed body was caked in pus and blood—bare to the winter air.
“Diya, get a blanket! Quickly!” Nolan shouted. Diya bolted into the house at once.
“Don’t panic… She’s breathing…” he muttered, glancing over her. The girl was all dark red from head to toe; he couldn’t tell where she was injured and where she wasn’t. At least her hands and feet seemed whole.
Diya returned at last with a blanket. The siblings worked together, wrapping the small, thin girl. They hurried into the cabin and laid the patient on the bed.
Nolan turned to rush out again. Diya called, “Brother!”
“I’m getting Master Berli. You watch her.” Nolan tossed the words over his shoulder and ran. There was no physician in the village—only a church catechist named Berli, who couldn’t work miracles of healing but knew herbs and how to treat wounds.
Nolan sprinted to the village. He found Berli finishing his supper and sitting at the rough chapel door, hammering a broken fence.
“Master Berli! I found a child in a bear’s belly—please, help her!” Nolan shouted over the fence.
“In a bear’s belly? A child?” Berli looked baffled, but Nolan’s urgency moved him. He followed at once.
“No obvious injuries, but she’s very weak.”
“Master Berli, what should we do?”
“Eh… I’ll fetch some herbs. You cook barley porridge. When she wakes, feed her slowly, mixed with it…”
“I understand. Thank you—truly.”
Muffled voices drifted in. Clytia opened her eyes. A girl with light-gold hair was wiping her body with a damp cloth.
“Nn—”
The coarse linen rasped over skin, and Clytia let out an involuntary, embarrassed whimper.
“Brother, she’s awake!”
Diya stood up to call, but no answer came—Nolan must have been tending the fire and porridge. Diya looked to the gray-white–haired girl lying flat on the bed.
“I’ll get you some clothes.”
Diya dropped the cloth back into the basin and hurried out to the yard. A moment later, her shout came:
“Bro—where’s my shirt from two days ago? I hung it in the yard—”
“Huh? You didn’t take it in?” Nolan shouted back from the kitchen.
“Oh no! There was a strong wind at noon—I thought you’d brought it in!”
“What? You didn’t?”
“Then… we’ll look in the woods later… Bro, I’ll grab one of your shirts first…”
She came back in, rummaged through a chest for a well-washed, faded shirt, and stepped into her brother’s room.
“I’ve got clothes—”
She stopped short. The gray-haired girl who had crawled out of the bear’s belly was huddled in the corner, clutching the filthy blanket tight, eyes glazed.
Clytia lifted her head—and met Diya’s gaze.
“Uh… are you all right?”
Diya ventured.
Clytia didn’t speak. She bowed her head again and hugged the blanket tighter.
“I—I am… an Erandel… Courage is with me…”
Her throat worked, words a sleepwalker’s murmur. Diya couldn’t make them out. She only saw the girl’s face change as Clytia clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Wait—” Diya reached out, flustered, to soothe her.
“—urk—”
Teeth clenched, Clytia forced the bile up in her throat back down. She stared for a beat, then lowered her head to hide her expression.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe here…”
Diya hesitated, then patted Clytia’s back, took the shirt, and slipped it onto her. Being Nolan’s, it hung large—falling to the tops of the girl’s thighs.
“I just washed your hair with water. It’s winter—get under the quilt before you catch a chill.”
“And this blanket—it’s filthy. I’ll… have to wash it.”
She tugged at the blanket Clytia held. She’d expected resistance, but it came free easily. Diya stepped out with it and met Nolan coming in.
“She’s awake?”
“She’s terrified. Won’t say a word.”
“That’s only natural…”
“So what do we do, Brother?”
“First… wait for her to come back to herself. Then we ask.” Nolan thought for a moment and decided.
“Okay. I’ll watch the porridge. You tuck her in, then grab a little rest yourself…”
Only then did the day’s fatigue wash over Nolan. His sister paused, looked back, and after a moment’s silence asked:
“Brother… so…”
“What is it?”
“Grandfather’s sword—did you sell it?”
“Ah… I suppose I did.” Nolan let out a rueful chuckle. Diya lowered her head, gave his chest a light thump with her fist, and turned back to the kitchen.
Nolan stepped into the room—and saw Clytia.
Not the frantic mess from before. The girl sat clean, motionless in the corner, knees hugged to her chest. Pale-skinned, about ten years old, with long hair between silver and gray. Her deep green eyes were lowered, dim.
Like a doll, Nolan thought. He remembered Diya’s request, picked up the quilt, and approached with care, wary of startling her. She neither spoke nor moved, her empty gaze the look of someone who had seen something terrible.
He set the quilt over her and tucked the corners, then sat down by the bed himself.
“You… you don’t need to worry. Master Berli says you’re only a bit weak. Nothing serious.”
The gray-haired girl still didn’t speak. Nolan held back his questions. For all the mysteries about a girl found in a bear’s belly, peppering a patient with queries would have been callous.
She must be frightened out of her wits—that was why she couldn’t speak.
“There’s no danger here… Rest, all right?” Nolan said.
To his surprise, the girl whispered:
“Rest…”
“Ah? Uh—yes. You can rest now.”
Before he finished, Clytia looked up at him, those green eyes meeting his. He froze—and the girl slumped sideways and fainted once more.