*****

As he beheld the disorder before him, Abtin's hands sprang into action. Concealed beneath the wolf skin that draped his waist like a short cloak, he wore a slanted belt, securing a handmade dagger within a leather sheath against his back—an artifact borne from the tranquility of a land where strife remained a distant specter. Abtin had never envisaged wielding his dagger for self-defense, but now, with resolute purpose, he withdrew it with his right hand and cautiously ascended the damaged stairs. He had resolved to confront the intruder to his home personally.

Simultaneously, his left hand slipped into his trouser pocket, encircling a cold, spherical object.

"This is an Escape Tool," Ardeshir's words resonated in his mind.

"A what?" Abtin mused.

"It can only be used once, but when pressed firmly, it will extricate you from any predicament," Ardeshir had explained.

Odd, perhaps, were Ardeshir's words. Yet, Abtin held unwavering faith in the enigmatic man. Ardeshir's character bore an air of inexplicable strangeness, making his pronouncements unequivocal truths. Touching the Escape Tool imbued Abtin with a sense of reassurance.

The truth remained that Abtin had never been schooled in combat. In all of Farnas, barely a handful possessed even rudimentary weapons skills. Yet, he consoled himself, thinking, "If they were numerous, their intrusion would not have gone unnoticed. This house is mine; I know every corner. I hold the advantage."

In his mind, he had completely ruled out the villagers as potential suspects. Thieves and beggars had long been absent from Farnas, and the standard of living for all its inhabitants stood at a commendable and respectable level. Unity bound their hearts, ensuring that family disputes never devolved to such desperate depths.

Abtin pondered to himself, "Could this be the work of one of the Eagle Bearers?" It appeared improbable. Throughout their unwelcome stay, they had never ventured into a house, or at the very least, left no trace of their intrusion. Furthermore, signs of a struggle suggested resistance. If an altercation had taken place between an Eagle Bearer and a resident, matters would not have escalated to this point. It also raised the question of why, during the same few hours Abtin had left the house, one of the villagers and one of the Eagle Bearers would have converged at his dwelling. Perhaps, it was a dispute between two Eagle Bearers? Or maybe...

His chain of thoughts was abruptly interrupted as something gently landed on his shoulder, causing him to hold his breath for a moment. Fortunately, his initial shock gave way to relief when he realized it was his trusty green bird, Sana, perching there. She had grown tired of flying and waiting and had opted to stay awake, curious about why Abtin was heading to the hut instead of the Spring Tree.

"I think I just had a tiny heart attack, Sana!" Abtin quipped.

In a gesture of apology, Sana blinked and tilted her head. Abtin addressed her slowly, "You wait outside. If a significant time passes and I don't return, go to Ardeshir and let him know, alright?"

Sana's expression didn't betray much satisfaction, but she understood that there was no swaying Abtin once he'd made up his mind. Sana was the sole survivor of Abtin's family. She had been a constant presence in his life for as long as he could remember, perhaps even before. In the fire incident five years ago, it was Sana who had guided Ardeshir to Abtin's rescue. Whenever she disapproved of something Abtin did or was about to do, she would turn her head to one side as if complaining to an imaginary friend.

After Sana's departure, Abtin took a deep breath and ventured inside the house. His grip on the dagger tightened, his nails pressing firmly into his palm to maintain heightened alertness. A swift survey of the confined space revealed that the struggle had not extended indoors. If anyone still lurked inside, they probably hid upstairs.

A wooden statue of Rostam, astride the formidable Rakhsh, stood by the window, its imposing figure offering the first welcome to all visitors. The rug in the center of the room bore a folded corner, hinting at someone—perhaps in haste—ascending the stairs. The small stone furnace, which had combated the winter's chill the previous night, radiated warmth in the heart of the house. Nearby, a stack of firewood by the stairs leading to the upper floor attests to Abtin's meticulous preparations for the cold season.

As Abtin continued to assess the ground floor for safety, he came upon a peculiar sight. Two gleaming gold coins rested on the small table near the foot of the stairs. Two gold coins represented a substantial sum, and he could not recall placing such an amount there. Carefully, he approached the table and noticed the coins rested on top of a piece of paper. Abtin gingerly brushed the coins aside with the tip of his dagger, as if they might bite, and swiftly perused the faint, delicate handwriting upon the paper: "Dear homeowner! I acknowledge that no words can truly justify my intrusion, but I leave payment for the walnuts I consumed here. I promise to provide an explanation. I hope I did not alarm you." Abtin raised an eyebrow, caught in a mental tug-of-war between skepticism and trust.

Amid their ongoing internal debates, which painted his face with a flush of uncertainty, Abtin reached a conclusion—the suspect had to be upstairs. He began a slow, cautious ascent. Although Abtin wasn't entirely sure why he was attempting to move stealthily, as from any perspective, if someone was present upstairs, they would have already detected his presence and might even be prepared to ambush him. Yet, as he climbed the stairs and arrived at the entrance to the small room on the second floor, he was confronted with a sight that elicited his second surprise.

Beneath the warm, soft quilt he had spread by the porch overlooking the valley, someone lay sound asleep. The person's face was obscured, as they had drawn the quilt up to cover it. It was apparent that this was no playful child.

Beside the sleeper's head rested a partially-filled bowl of water. Perplexed by the lack of correlation between the preceding signs of violence, the courteous message downstairs, and this tranquil slumber, Abtin, brandishing his dagger, remained in the doorway to ensure a quick escape if the situation took a turn for the worse, and shouted , "Hey!"

Almost simultaneously, the person under the quilt shot up, emitting a startled cry. Abtin had never encountered an individual quite like this one. Clearly, a teenage boy, around his own age, with long hair, although unlike Abtin's free-flowing locks, this boy had tied his hair into a ponytail. The most striking peculiarity about his appearance was his silver hair and eyebrows, which, while slightly darker, remained significantly lighter than Nana Ison's hair. His eyes were a unique shade, a blend of green and gray, distinct from the majority of Farnas residents, who bore brown eyes. A not-so-deep yet extensive burn mark adorned his bare left arm, which had slipped out from under the quilt.

Within the first moment, Abtin managed to process these observations. However, he wasn't granted a second, for the silver-haired boy, still groggy from slumber and speaking in a peculiar accent, interjected:

"Wait, wait! I'm not a threat!"

Raising an eyebrow once more, Abtin, without lowering his dagger, opened his mouth to pose a question. The boy, however, did not afford him the opportunity and continued, his tone now a rare fusion of embarrassment and protest:

"When I left payment for the walnuts I consumed, I also left an apology and promised to explain! So why wake a person with a pounding headache and hold a dagger above their head?"

Abtin, his brow furrowed as he tried to comprehend the peculiar words and behavior of this strange newcomer, glanced at the side of the boy's head. There, beneath the thick silver hair, he spotted a noticeable injury—a mark from a powerful blow, with dried blood. "This boy must have hit his head on the house's fence," Abtin surmised to himself.

The boy's prompt inquiry broke Abtin's train of thought. Slowly, he lowered his dagger, although his guard remained up, the Escape Tool still clutched tightly in his hand. He fortified his security, remarking, "My bird is soaring in the sky. Should anything happen to me, it will promptly inform the others."

Rubbing his eyes, the boy replied, "Alright, alright."

Abtin paused for a moment and then, with a lingering hint of doubt in his voice, ventured, "Look, I don't know who you are. You're a stranger, and I believe you've suffered memory loss."

The boy gazed at Abtin for a moment, blinked, and then, with a nonchalant yawn, replied, "You think I hadn't noticed?"

This reaction from the boy left Abtin more astounded than his strange appearance. The boy had regained his senses, acknowledged his memory lapse, and had taken a nap to see what would unfold next?

"The first thing I remember is lying on the steps of your house," the boy continued without Abtin posing a question. He drew his knees beneath the quilt and, with a casual glance alternating between the scenery beyond the porch and Abtin himself, added, "My head was throbbing with pain, and upon seeing the blood on my head and the fence of the house, I could guess what had happened. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't recall anything before that moment. Hence, I dragged myself inside your house to seek help, but there was no one here to respond. So, I suppose I' I'm not from around here, am I?"

Abtin shook his head from side to side, and the boy, exhaling a sigh, went on, "I thought maybe I lived here, and while descending the stairs, I slipped and hit my head on the railing. I assumed perhaps someone here knows me."

Abtin asked, "So, you thought you lived here, yet you still paid for the food?"

The boy didn't appear flustered in the least. His response was remarkably casual, "In any case, it's better than feeling indebted."

Abtin spoke with a sense of urgency, "But outside, on the grass, there are clear signs of a scuffle!"

The boy's eyes widened, and he responded, "A fight?"

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"Yes," Abtin affirmed. "It appears to have been a quiet but intense brawl."

The boy seemed perplexed. "Wow. But then where is the assailant!?"

Abtin shrugged, and for a moment, the two boys scrutinized each other's faces, their skepticism growing more pronounced. However, the boy, not taking the situation too seriously, chuckled and remarked, "It's a good thing I didn't inspect the grass then; otherwise, I wouldn't have enjoyed such a brief and restful sleep."

He cast a complaining look at Abtin and then turned his gaze back to the porch, continuing, "Even now, as I survey the surroundings, I don't feel any danger. It must have been a peculiar skirmish right in front of the house, and one of the parties vanished. That's why I remained oblivious to such an incident. Regardless, I struggled to reach the upper floor, where the excruciating pain in my stomach took precedence over my head. Despite scouring your room, I only managed to locate a few extra walnuts, which I consumed and then left my payment on the downstairs table. I hope it was adequate; I'm unfamiliar with walnut prices here. I then took shelter beneath the duvet, hoping my host, whoever they were, would return and provide an explanation. From my vantage point now, I realize only one or two hours have passed since these events."

Abtin inquired, "So, did you write the note?"

"Of course," the boy affirmed. "I apologize for having to rummage around the house to find a piece of paper."

Turning his head towards Abtin, the boy posed a question, not as a critique, but with genuine curiosity, "What kind of hospitality is this?"

Abtin, still struggling to arrive at a definitive conclusion about the silver-haired boy's sincerity, replied, "I was never your host! I left my house two hours ago and returned to discover the broken fence and a stranger sleeping in my bed, who is now criticizing my hospitality."

The boy nodded and, with a hint of amusement, said, "I see! So, it seems I just mysteriously materialized here, then?"

Abtin pursed his lips and voiced his emerging thought, "For all I know, you could be the cause of Farnas being under surveillance for months!"

The silver-haired boy, who had been frowning with a somewhat confrontational tone, suddenly brightened and spoke with a friendly smile, "So, this place is called Farnas? What a beautiful name! What's the meaning?"

He attempted to rise, prompting Abtin to swiftly raise his dagger, keeping his guard intact. The boy raised one hand in a sign of surrender and used the other to point towards a short length of rope he had brought next to the bed.

"Look... I found this rope behind the firewood," he explained. "Of course, I realize it might seem like I've ransacked your house, which doesn't convey a positive impression... I intended to use the fibers to bind my head—I mean, my wound. I was unsuccessful.. Of course, I also understand you might think I'm trying to get close to you so that..."

The boy scratched his head and continued, "Or perhaps you're putting yourself in my shoes and considering that if I were truly honest, I should have felt threatened and not offered to bind my hands so easily, given the evidence of my bleeding head and such. I don't know anymore. Tell me what it takes for you to believe that I'm genuinely the wretched person I claim to be!"

The boy's desperate tone and expression were so earnest that the flustered Abtin was on the verge of emitting a brief, hiccup-like laugh. Without responding to the boy's question, he pondered for a moment. He needed to signal Sana; otherwise, she would soon grow anxious and pester Ardeshir, a scenario Abtin preferred to avoid. It was time to make a decision—was this boy telling the truth, or was it an act? Abtin assessed him once more, contemplating as much as his knowledge of the world allowed. He concluded that, to the best of his understanding, the boy did not appear to pose any imminent danger. Abtin felt it unwise to take defensive action at this moment, but he could not afford to be entirely complacent either. He needed to inform Ardeshir of the situation. Whether this boy was the subject of interest for the Eagle Bearers or not, Abtin simply could not hand him over to them. Not only did he have no knowledge of the boy's identity, but he also had no idea what the Eagle Bearers might have in store for him. Abtin felt somewhat responsible for ensuring the boy's safety.

It was time to put one of his theories about Ardeshir to the test. This theory was based on several similar experiences. Once, in response to Ardeshir's query, Abtin had said, "No, I don't need money." Ardeshir had gazed directly into his eyes for a few moments and then handed him a handful of coins, remarking, "You don't need to keep such things hidden from me." Abtin had promptly used the money to repair the crumbling roof of the lower floor of the house. Another time, two or three years ago, on a night when Ardeshir had spontaneously made himself a guest, it had been one of those nights when Abtin was consumed by bitter thoughts about his parents. Ardeshir had asked, "Would you like me to stay here tonight?" Abtin had shaken his head to decline, but Ardeshir had met his gaze directly, spread a blanket for himself, and spent the night. It had been a stormy night filled with aggressive thunder, and if not for Ardeshir's arrival, Abtin would never have been able to sleep so soundly. There had been other peculiar instances, akin to events that a grown man would dismiss as childish fantasies. In each case, Ardeshir locked eyes with Abtin and nodded in approval. In Abtin's view, the evidence for his theory was substantial: Ardeshir possessed the uncanny ability to discern a person's honesty or deceitfulness by simply looking into their eyes.

With these thoughts in mind, he sheathed his dagger and approached the boy. Unconsciously, the boy adopted a defensive posture under the quilt, blurting out, "Hey! What are you..." However, Abtin passed right by him, heading for the porch. He signaled to Sana that everything was in order. From below, he sensed Sana's sigh of relief—this bird was perpetually concerned about Abtin, and he often took advantage of this to tease her.

"What a sight!" Abtin jumped at the sound behind him and spun around, finding the silver-haired boy only a step away. The boy raised his hands to his head again and extended his open palms towards Abtin, saying, "I'm not going to harm you, mate! Relax."

As Abtin observed the silver-haired boy leaning against the porch railing, gazing at the surroundings with a joyful expression on his face, a thought occurred to him: "Quick, and silent. Too quick. If he wanted, he could certainly…”. From that point on, he gripped the Escape Tool in his hand even more firmly than before. Although he could not be entirely sure of its mechanism, he had it poised for activation, just as he had planned.

"What do you think is at the bottom of the valley?" The thread of Abtin's thoughts was abruptly severed once more.

"No one knows," he replied.

"So, no one has ever attempted to find out?"

"A few have tried. But those who ventured never returned. Look..."

Abtin placed his hand on the silver-haired boy's shoulder and turned him around. Under the revealing light of the sun, which acted as an unmasking tool, he realized that the boy's face bore an uncanny familiarity. In those fleeting moments of pause, he racked his brain but failed to pinpoint the source of this recognition. Thus, slightly stunned by this revelation, he continued his inquiry:

"Aren't you concerned at all about recovering your memories? Don't you want to... I don't know, take some action? At least be somewhat..."

"Anxious? Bounce around and create a ruckus?" the boy interjected.

Abtin shrugged and nodded. "Yes, exactly."

The boy shook his head. "Not yet. It's too early for that. I've only been like this for a few hours, at most. My memory might return. Perhaps someone will come looking for me."

For the first time, the boy indulged in a joke. "But until then, I'm more worried that you'll be a terribly inhospitable host and won't bring me any food, or at least an ointment, or medicine, or even a handkerchief to cover my head with!"

Slightly embarrassed, Abtin entered the room and began rummaging through a closet near the quilts. Simultaneously, he inquired, "So, you can't even remember your name, can you?"

The boy replied, "No, I can't. What about you? Do you remember your name?"

For the first time since their peculiar encounter, Abtin broke into a smile. Turning to the silver-haired boy, he held a red cloth handkerchief and answered, "My name is Abtin."

"Nice to meet you, Abtin. What a lovely handkerchief!"

"Thank you. It belonged to my father..."

In a sudden epiphany, Abtin's thoughts raced. "Oh God! I forgot about the tree!"

The silver-haired boy, tying the handkerchief around his head, asked, "Which tree?"

Abtin hastily replied, "It's a long story. Can I leave you here for a moment? I'll be back soon."

The boy simply shook his head, expressing his reluctance to stay alone, and declared, "I'd rather not be alone in this situation. I'll come with you."

Abtin thought to himself, "I'm more at ease with him by my side anyway," and nodded in agreement. He then said, rushing towards the stairs, "But I need to get there quickly. Don't push yourself too hard."

The silver-haired boy proudly raised his head and responded, "A little run won't be too much."

In a matter of moments, both of them were sprinting towards the Spring Tree. Downstairs, Abtin quickly forced the coins into the boy's hand. As they crossed the front lawn, the silver-haired boy lagged behind a few steps, appearing somewhat preoccupied as he glanced at the grass. Soon, he caught up with Abtin, and the pensive look on his face indicated that he hadn't previously taken the fight as seriously as he should have.

"No. No news."

Despite their distance from the tree, Abtin had grown so accustomed to observing the tree as he approached it, that he could discern changes in every branch from one day to the next. Surely he would’ve seen a blue handkerchief with a silvery dot hanging from the branches from much further away.

The silver-haired boy marveled at the magnificent tree. Its trunk was robust, reddish-brown, and so thick that it would require the combined effort of at least five grown men to encircle it. The lowest branches were as substantial as the trunks of ordinary trees, and its fiery orange leaves, now falling with the onset of winter, added to its enchanting allure. Although its fruits remained a mystery, the tree's sheer grandeur was enough to captivate any beholder.

"We have nothing to do here," Abtin remarked.

Despite the passage of years, Abtin no longer felt the disappointment or sorrow of not finding the cloth, as he once did. He turned to leave, but the silver-haired boy approached the tree, caressing its trunk. Then, with caution, he knelt over the opening into which the tree bent and peered into its unseen depths.

This peculiar gateway was marked by a stone that could easily accommodate the width of two of Abtin's cottages. At its ends, it revealed a tar-like darkness. The boy stopped his contemplation and raised his head briefly. A few of the upper branches of the Spring Tree had grown so long that they stretched into the very heart of the god-carved entrance. The boy caressed the tree's trunk once more in admiration before returning to Abtin, who had been closely monitoring his behavior all along.

The silver-haired boy expressed his initial impression of Farnas, saying, "So far, I think your Farnas is a hoot."

Abtin had contemplated asking the boy how he could remain so composed and enjoy nature in his current state, but observing his contentment, he decided to refrain. Instead, he thought to himself, "It's going to be discussed soon enough. No need to rush."

He informed the boy of his need to return to the village, stating, "I have to go to the village. The workshop needs me."

The boy inquired, "Oh, what do you do? No, wait... With all the idols in your hut, you must be a carpenter, right?"

Raising his eyebrows, Abtin clarified, "They're not idols, just statues. I work in blacksmithing."

With the same candidness as before, the boy commented, "Your arms don't show! I don't mind seeing you work!"

To test the boy further, Abtin suggested, "Don't you want to wait and rest in my house? Didn't you say someone might come after you?"

The boy responded, "Given the condition I was in when I was left, the person who might come after me might not have very friendly intentions, don't you think? Of course, I'm thinking about it now after seeing the grass, not when I decided to sleep in your house. Ha ha!"

The boy, who had momentarily forgotten about his wound, touched his head and continued with a pained expression, "No... I'd rather not be alone until I've gained some sense of assurance. Especially now that..."

Abtin inquired, "Especially now that what?"

The silver-haired boy appeared slightly uneasy for the first time. He shifted his gaze away from Abtin and concluded in an indifferent tone, "Well... I feel like you can be trusted... Kind of."

Abtin felt a mixture of discomfort and satisfaction, walking ahead without looking at the boy. He responded, "I'm glad to hear that. Look, for now, you just need a name. It'll make things easier for us to talk."

The boy contemplated this briefly as they continued forward. Eventually, he raised his head and suggested, "How about Babak? Babak of Farnas!"

Abtin gave him a quizzical look. In response to Abtin's expression, the boy explained, "Well... for now, until it becomes clear where I'm really from! By the way..."

The next phrase he said unlocked an invisible lock in Abtin's mind that he didn't even know about:

“Have you noticed how similar our looks are?”

The boy's remark had a profound effect on Abtin. He was struck by the realization that indeed, they bore a strong resemblance to each other. Although he didn't often look in the mirror, he could now see how their faces shared a striking resemblance, like reflections in a slightly turbulent pool of water. Abtin made a sound, almost unconsciously, as his thoughts raced.

He could not explain why, but he felt that the arrival of this boy marked the beginning of something new, a shift from the ordinary course of his life. On that day, Abtin had not found the blue handkerchief he had hoped for, but instead, he had found Babak of Farnas.

Abtin, whose body was still moving and who was stunned by this simple, hand-held truth, made a meaningless sound out of his throat. He was right. He didn't look in the mirror, but if he looked closely, he could confuse his face with him in a bowl of water that had a little turbulence on its little waves. He did not frown this time, but his thinking speed multiplied.

He didn't know why, but he felt that the new things he always wanted to happen and take his life out of the ordinary were about to happen. He had not found the blue handkerchief that day. Instead, he had found Babak of Farnas.

*****