Melia had never seen a forest spirit.
In fact, she doubted anyone had.
It was said that the spirit of the forest lured people, especially children, and ate their souls.
If a person returned, which happened only rarely, they came back alive but hollow, with staring, empty eyes.
It was a ridiculous lie adults used to keep children obedient.
As the strange creature sprinted through the village street, Melia began to wonder if she had been wrong.
At first, it was hard to follow what was happening.
The creature was quick on its feet, and the villagers chasing her filled the street with their shouts.
Others stopped in their tracks, turning to stare and blocking Melia’s view.
Melia slipped between them, pushing past shoulders and elbows to keep the creature in sight.
A few people gave her offended looks, but she ignored them.
Then something funny happened.
Just as the creature passed the local inn, the Lovely Rose, a gentleman in fine clothes stepped out.
The collision was inevitable.
He had one gloved hand still on the doorframe and had barely turned his head before the creature crashed into him.
For one absurd moment, it looked like they were embracing.
Melia skidded to a stop, a laugh bursting out of her before she could stop it.
Now that the creature had stopped, Melia could see it was not a forest spirit at all, but a woman.
A very dirty, very disheveled woman.
Melia knitted her brows and her shoulders sagged.
The man and the woman froze and stared at each other in equal astonishment.
A heartbeat later, he pulled her away from his chest, turned with her still in his grip, and swung her halfway around toward the narrow lane beside the inn.
By the time he released her, his back was to the crowd and his body blocked the way she had come from.
The people behind him were forced to slow down, unable to get past while he stood in the middle of the street, brushing at the dirt on his fine coat and muttering under his breath.
The woman, now a little cleaner than before, kept running until she disappeared around the corner.
The crowd might have lost sight of her, but Melia had always been quick on her feet.
At the edge of the village stood a small, forgotten shed, and Melia saw the woman slip inside.
Melia looked around to make sure no one had followed, then crept closer to the shed.
“Hello.
Are you there?” Melia whispered through a crack in the door, but when she paused to listen, no one answered.
She had to be terrified.
Who wouldn’t be, after a chase like that?
“I’m here to help you,” she continued, and very slowly opened the shed door.
The stale scent of mold and damp wood drifted out.
The light revealed two enormous emerald-green eyes staring at her in terror.
When the woman saw Melia, she pressed herself farther into the corner.
She was naked, sitting on the dirt floor with her knees hugged to her chest.
Heat rose to Melia’s cheeks.
If she had been the one running naked through the village, she would have dug a hole in the floor and buried herself in it for the rest of her life.
The woman had long, messy blond hair and looked very beautiful, even though her head was bloodied and muddy and the rest of her was hardly any cleaner.
No wonder the gentleman had stared at her.
Even Melia caught herself holding her breath.
Her eyes stayed fixed on Melia, as if she were waiting for her to hurt her.
Melia’s chest tightened.
She would never hurt her, or anyone.
When Melia slipped her hand into her apron pocket, the woman flinched, her eyes widening.
“Are you okay?” Melia asked softly, trying not to scare her.
Melia took the sweet butter buns from the pocket of her apron, opened the wrapping, and held them out, but the woman just stared at her silently.
“Who are you?” Melia continued.
“Can you hear me?” “Do you understand me?
That bruise looks bad.” “Are you hungry?” Melia tore a piece from one of the buns, ate it herself, and held the rest out.
“See?
Not poisoned.” Melia tossed both buns to her.
The woman caught them with trembling hands and took hurried bites.
Crumbs stuck to her lips and fell onto the dirt floor.
Once she had finished the buns, her shoulders relaxed a little.
The woman released the breath she had been holding and nodded at Melia.
She said something with the last crumbs still in her mouth, but Melia couldn’t understand.
Either it was some strange language, or the buns made her impossible to understand.
“Melia.
I’m Melia.” She tapped herself, hoping the woman could understand the gesture.
“Venya,” she answered, mirroring the gesture, and a faint smile touched her lips.
They had understood each other.
Without realizing it, Melia relaxed her shoulders as some of the tension left her.
The strange woman had a name now, and Melia suddenly felt closer to her.
Maybe they could be friends.
Then Melia took off her apron and offered it to Venya.
It was not much, but at least she could cover herself and keep warm.
The woman took it with a small, grateful smile and said something softly.
“Wait here.
I’ll get you some water.” Melia mimed drinking, then pointed toward the village and back to the shed.
Venya nodded, but Melia was still unsure if the woman understood that she would soon return with water.
Melia glanced over Venya once more.
The buns had helped, but she still looked chilled, thirsty, and in desperate need of something to cover herself with.
Melia ran back to the market square, where the well stood at its center.
It was not actually a well but a fountain called the King’s Gratitude, where villagers came to draw water for drinking and washing.
It had been built a century ago as a gift from some king, in gratitude for something someone had done.
Melia had not listened very closely to that boring political and historical story when she had been in the village school a few years ago.
She crept around the fountain and spotted a lonely bucket lying upside down a little farther away.
After checking that it was clean enough, she filled it with fresh water and hurried off.
She did not want to return directly to the shed and draw attention, so she took a route behind the houses.
While passing through one backyard, she noticed a perfectly nice-looking dress drying on a clothesline.
Melia slowed.
The corners of her mouth turned up.
By the time she returned to the shed, she had the bucket in one hand and the stolen dress tucked under her arm.
She could only hope Venya was still inside.
Venya and Melia bonding ;D