It was not a good road, just dirt, but it was funny how something natural could be such a clear sign of civilisation. Even the field had no fence, just a patch of cleared ground. The unnatural absence of nature the sign. After all, it wasn’t like a squirrel would chop down this patch of trees, nor would deer stomp along the same path, over and over, until grass didn’t dare grow.

We walked, quicker now there was no slope, no roots, no mud. I walked beside her, close with how narrow the road was. It was sometimes wider, sometimes narrow, not always even.

I thought it would take a while to get to the village. In my head, fields were these huge, sprawling things that covered the whole countryside. Needed to make enough food for everyone for the whole year.

But this was a different world, many things about it different to what I knew. Although the field was large, it had an end, maybe an hour’s walk at a brisk pace. At the end of it, a village.

Sort of.

The forest on one side, empty field on the other, and a signpost at its corner. Once we reached it, it pointed down the slope where a wider road ran, sandwiched between this field and another. Far off in the distance, some blocky things that I thought must be houses.

“Huckfild,” Hyaj muttered.

Confused by the unfamiliar word, I turned, saw her looking at the sign. Ah, the village’s name. “We’re going there?”

“That it is,” she said, taking the first step.

After stopping for even just this brief moment, it felt so hard to move again. I forced myself to go before she noticed and I started repeating the apparently religious mantra she’d taught me. At least, I thought it was a mantra?

However, before I’d even managed to think it once, she began lecturing me. “Fild is an ending that means… a farming village—” She paused her explanation there to teach me the verb “to manage”, then carried on. “A farming village managed by a family. At least, that was how it began and it hasn’t grown large enough to… be given another name.”

She went on to explain some other kinds of villages, but my attention kept drifting to the distant buildings which grew that little bigger with every step.

We walked, quicker now there was a slope, nothing on it to trip us, not muddy either. I noticed the grass and weeds weren’t as purplish out here. After spending so much time in the forest, I wasn’t really sure what normal was, though. They were maybe too dark of a green, more like moss than grass. The more I looked, the more I thought I could see tinges of navy blue to them, maybe a trick of the light.

A sudden silence, I turned and saw Hyraj looking at me. Realising I had stopped listening entirely, a rush of embarrassment swallowed me whole, all I could do to not look away guiltily.

Rather than chastise me, she softly smiled. “That excited?” she asked, whispered—like she was talking to a child about a secret.

No room for me to feel indignant after ignoring her like that, I went to shake my head, but caught myself mid-shake. A quick breath, then I shooed with my hand. “Nervous?” I said, unsure I remembered the right word, not one we ever used when talking. In fact, I only knew it because it was in the book she used to teach me to read.

“Is is that?” she said, looking ahead again. “Well, there is no need for you to speak. I may arrange everything.”

Focused out of guilt, I dutifully listened as she explained that it would be simplest if she introduced me as her maid. Well, how she explained it sounded less like a servant, but, like, nobility stuff wasn’t something I knew about, so maid it was.

And while she talked, I forgot to feel anxious. What good luck.

So we walked and she talked and the village gradually came into view, old houses with thatched roofs, black with grime and bits of moss, patches where parts had been replaced. Cottages, no second storey, but not too small and some looked close enough together to be one house. The walls weren’t made of mud either. Stones and rocks with thick layers of cement between them, also dyed with grime and dirt.

There was no pattern to how they were arranged, not like they were neatly lined up along a road. There was an open patch in the middle of them all that they loosely made a wobbly oval around, but there were some farther out, maybe twenty in total, or a few more, and some sort of sheds and things that I didn’t think people lived in.

Eventually, the children playing in the middle noticed us. It was funny seeing it spread, the running about and laughing coming to a stop, a couple running off—to tell an adult, I presumed.

Everything feeling more real by the step, I wished I could hold her hand right now, missing that comfort.

By the time we reached the buildings, a few people were waiting and they didn’t look pleased or upset to see us. Maybe cautious? Seemed like they didn’t get many visitors out here. Hyraj came to a stop, so I did too, resisting the urge to hide behind her.

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It wasn’t like dealing with people scared me, but, well, I had sort of fallen into a childish role, following her without question. I understood now why the little ones often hid behind me whenever I stopped to talk to one of the old grannies in our neighbourhood.

Who knew what they might ask, that I might say the wrong thing, so talk to Hyraj and ignore me.

While I holed up in my head, a pair of older women shuffled forwards and started talking to Hyraj. I could loosely follow some of the conversation. At least, on Hyraj’s side. I quickly realised that their accent made it hard for me to follow. While Hyraj said every sound “properly”, the women sort of slurred some sounds and a lot of the throaty sounds came out soft, easily confused with “sh” and “ch”.

Struggling, I looked up at them to see if watching their mouths would help. It didn’t really. As much as they talked, their mouths barely moved at all and that was maybe why the sounds came out so similar.

Then something clicked. I stared at their faces and they were like mine, darker, but the same kind of colour. Not just tanned like Spanish or Greek people.

Entranced, Hyraj had to shake my elbow to pull me out of it. “Would you introduce yourself?” she whispered, leaning in.

Her breath tickled my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. Properly woken up, I breathed in and, recalling her instructions, said, “I am their maid, Louise.”

The two women shared a look before offering small smiles. “My’s Jersha,” one said—how I understood what she had said.

“My’s Peleh,” the other said.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said and, rather than bow or curtsy, I gave a sort of salute. Hyraj’s culture was apparently big on talking with their hands.

They smiled again, but didn’t return the salute. A rush of embarrassment, I awkwardly lowered my hand, forcing a smile.

In unspoken agreement, they turned back to Hyraj and continued talking. Again, I didn’t catch much, but noticed they also spoke much quicker than Hyraj and, half the time, they were talking to each other rather than her. I guessed it was something like: “We haven’t had visitors for months, have we Peleh?” “Oh no, not since the new year and Bob’s uncle came down with his kids, wasn’t it?”

However, Hyraj was never pulled into their pace. Always unhurried. So I understood that they were talking about the nearby villages and somewhere to stay tonight—at least, Hyraj was. That she sometimes had to ask the same question in a different way made me think the women really were only half talking to her.

Behind them, I noticed the children had crept closer. Not close, but now only like ten paces away, huddled behind a tangled bush. I guessed children didn’t really change no matter the world. Catching some of their eye, I smiled. Oh a couple dove down, one slid over to hide behind the cottage’s corner, a pair of girls (sisters, I thought) giggled and did the one-handed clap like they were nodding? Maybe it wasn’t quite the same as just nodding.

That ruckus got the attention of the other adults standing around and they went over to shoo away the children, tutting and standing there with their hands on their hips afterwards. Maybe people didn’t change too much either.

While I was focused on that, Hyraj finished up the conversation and pulled me into a walk, following the two women as they kept chattering. Going past the group of adults, they called on one—Fesa, it sounded like, which meant she was called Flower?—and she joined us too.

“They have a room for us,” Hyraj whispered to me.

“That is it,” I said, nothing else coming to mind.

So we walked, the only interesting thing I noticed that none of the buildings looked special. If there was no church, wasn’t this more of a hamlet? Oh, but, did they even have churches? Anyway, it didn’t matter.

In front of the houses were bushes that I thought might be herbs or berries, the odd crudely-made chair and bench, and some kids toys and games. Hand-made dolls that looked like carved wood with rags for clothes, wooden balls covered in dirt, a game like tossing horseshoes or maybe darts? Whatever it was, there was a pole in the floor and large darts (or tiny javelins) around it.

We walked to the far side of the open patch and beyond, going between two cottages. Behind them was a shed. On the large side, but still clearly made with planks of wood, including the roof. There weren’t even glass windows—something the cottages did have—just what looked like a hatch?

Still, it was better than the ground beneath a tree.

Hyraj thanked them and I did too, resisting the urge to bow, and we stepped inside. It looked bigger than I’d thought, probably because the walls were so thin. There was a bed inside, made of wood and straw it seemed, with a thick blanket. I touched it, the feeling not like wool. Maybe they used the reeds for fabric or grew something else?

Other than the bed, there was a small table and a chair for it, apparently a room for one person. Indeed, the bed was a single….

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I said.

She opened the window-flap thing and sat down at the table, slipping her backpack off onto the ground, no reaction at all to my statement—except that I noticed she clapped her hand. A small relief that I wouldn’t have to “fight” her over this.

But then I wasn’t sure what to do, neither walking nor making a camp and that was all I knew these days. Already by the bed, I took off my backpack and sat down. It wasn’t really cushioning. Warm, though, I thought. The same as Hyraj’s mattress thing. Sleeping on the ground really was a lot colder than sleeping on straw.

As I fiddled, she just sat there. I looked over and realised her eyes were closed. It hadn’t seemed like a stressful conversation, but I didn’t know what stressed her. Or maybe she was just collecting her thoughts. This was a huge change for us, different worries. I knew that very well and tried to ignore them.

Well, that seemed to be it given what she said next: “We shall only stay this night.”

“The stormy season?” I weakly said, unsure how exactly to phrase what I wanted to say.

She understood. “Other places should be within a day’s walk,” she said, then sighed. “This place is too poor to stay for longer.”

It was blunt, but I could sort of understand. You had to make do when you were in the middle of nowhere. Now, some of her daily comforts were in arm’s reach, so of course she wanted to reach out for them.

“Okay,” I said.

After a moment, she reached into her bag and took out her book, the first time in a while she had the chance to read it. I watched for a bit, something comforting about it. Reminded me of being back at the camp where it had felt like our home. Travelling together was fine, but it wasn’t the same as back then.

This room wasn’t the same. It wasn’t ours, wasn’t a home. A shelter for the night and nothing more.