Enidd stirred slowly, waking to the feeling of a soft mattress and the gentle creak of wood. Sunlight trickled in through a tiny window high up on the wall, casting a golden rectangle over the dusty floorboards. For a moment, she let herself believe she was home, waking up in her own bed on a peaceful weekend morning. But as she tried to sit up, a faint twinge in her shoulder reminded her otherwise.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” came a warm, kindly voice. She blinked, focusing on the face of an elderly woman with grey hair pulled back in a neat bun, her hands busy pouring tea into a simple clay cup. The woman’s eyes twinkled with kindness, though she observed Enidd with the keen, assessing look of someone well-acquainted with nursing the wounded.

“I’m Maira,” she said as she handed the tea over. “Drink up, duck,” she added in a tone that brokered no argument.

Enidd took the cup, the tea’s warmth immediately comforting her as she sipped. It had a faint, herbal taste she couldn’t quite place but found soothing. As the warmth spread through her, she felt some of the tension ease from her body. This woman—Maira—radiated a calm that made it easier to relax, if only for a moment.

“You’ve been asleep the entire day,” Maira informed her, gently checking the dressing on Enidd’s shoulder. “Poor thing. You’ve been battered around quite a bit, haven’t you?” She finished her inspection with a satisfied nod, tucking the bandage back into place.

Enidd managed a hoarse whisper. “Thank you.”

Maira waved it off. “It’s no bother. Only proper to help a soul who’s been tossed about like you.”

They shared a quiet moment, Maira bustling around the small room while Enidd finished her tea and let her mind drift back over everything that had happened. Her thoughts lingered on her last clear memory: the frantic chase through the forest, the goblins’ relentless pursuit, her strange desperation… and then, the origami crane.

Maira seemed to notice her far-off look, for she chuckled softly. “Come, let’s get you some fresh air. It’ll help clear that dazed look in your eyes. And there’s a bit of a commotion outside—wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the excitement.”

With a final sip of tea, Enidd carefully rose from the bed, every muscle protesting the movement as she followed Maira outside.

The village was small but bustling with life, full of earthy scents and the soft hum of villagers going about their day. Children darted around, laughing and shouting as they raced down the cobbled lanes. In the distance, a few adults stood, looking perplexed and pointing at something overhead. Enidd squinted to see what had them so intrigued. Then she saw it.

Hovering over the heads of the villagers, swooping just out of reach, was the familiar flutter of her origami crane. It dipped and swayed, doing small loops as if teasing the children who tried to leap and catch it, laughing wildly.

“Oh,” Enidd murmured, a mix of disbelief and wonder in her voice, “It followed me.”

Maira raised an eyebrow, watching the curious crane flutter about with the same bafflement that seemed to have struck the entire village. “Do you… know anything about that little fellow?” she asked, her tone laced with hesitant curiosity.

Enidd blinked, trying to think of how best to explain. “Well… yes, sort of. I made it. A few nights ago. Back home.”

Maira’s eyes widened slightly as she looked between Enidd and the crane, which was now hovering nearby, bobbing up and down as if its mere existence were cause for celebration. “You made that? And it just… came to life?” Her voice was cautious, as though she were handling some delicate, half-forgotten memory of something both fantastical and implausible.

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Enidd nodded, though doubt began to creep into her thoughts. “I folded it back… at home.” She didn’t dare say much more; it already sounded ridiculous. And how was she supposed to explain that, unlike any other crane she’d ever folded, this one could move on its own?

Maira gave her a look of careful curiosity. “Interesting,” she said slowly, as if the word itself needed extra pondering. “Not something you see every day. There are stories, you know—rumours, really—about objects doing curious things. But it’s all just talk, mostly.”

She shrugged as if apologising for the lack of answers, and Enidd found herself oddly reassured by this uncertainty. At least here, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t quite understand what was going on.

As the crane floated back toward her, Enidd raised her hand, and it landed gently in her palm. She gave it a tentative smile, though deep down, a part of her felt unsettled. This was no ordinary origami.

A nearby child pointed excitedly. “It’s her bird! It’s her magic!”

Maira chuckled, though she gave Enidd a thoughtful look. “Magic, eh?” she echoed, as if tasting the word. “Maybe so. Who’s to say? We’ve heard rumours in these parts. Tales of folks who can do the oddest things. But magic? Well, that’s a big word.”

Enidd glanced around at the curious faces watching her. "But I didn’t do anything special," she insisted, mostly to herself. "It’s just a crane."

Maira nodded. “A crane that followed you through a forest of goblins, isn’t it? Whatever the case, you’d best keep that in mind.”

As they continued through the village, the crane flitted up to settle comfortably on her shoulder, as if it had decided this was exactly where it belonged. Villagers murmured quietly, casting curious, cautious glances at her as they passed by, each look a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty.

They reached the square, where the children continued to dart around, laughing, while a few adults observed with folded arms, exchanging glances. Enidd couldn’t shake the feeling of being a strange spectacle, a curiosity that, while welcome, wasn’t entirely understood.

Maira gave her a rueful smile. “You’re lucky to have found us. Most know better than to go anywhere near goblin grounds. But it’s been ages since one of them got this close to the village.” She shot Enidd a half-amused, half-pitying look. “Though I suppose not everyone’s got the sense to avoid trouble,” she added, softening her words with a chuckle.

Enidd offered a small grin. “It wasn’t exactly my choice,” she replied, glancing again at the crane, which was now nudging her cheek with a very un-paperlike curiosity. “I don’t suppose there’s much talk here about magic?” she asked, adding hastily, “Not that I think this is, really. But… I can’t explain it, either.”

Maira rubbed her chin thoughtfully, clearly searching for words. “Oh, magic…” she murmured, as if the word were both familiar and foreign. “You might hear whispers here and there about odd folk with odd skills—like people talking to plants or lighting fires with their hands—but no one really believes it. Not unless they’ve seen it themselves. And even then… Well, folks tend to call that luck or knack rather than magic.”

“So you haven’t really seen anything like this?” Enidd gestured at the crane, which was now folding its wings with a certain dignity, like it knew it was being discussed.

Maira shook her head. “No, I haven’t. But we don’t really look for explanations here. Just what’s in front of us.”

At that, a younger boy darted close and nearly swiped the crane. The paper bird shot up, wheeling through the air like a circus acrobat, narrowly avoiding a flock of chickens that scattered with alarmed clucks.

Enidd watched the crane settle again, folding its wings primly, and for a brief moment, she could have sworn it winked at her.

“Well,” she said, attempting to sound confident. “I think it’s just paper. Just a bit more… more lively than usual.”

Maira chuckled. “Seems that way. Either way, it’s yours, and from the look of things, you might need it.”

Enidd considered that, glancing at the crane. Maybe, just maybe, it was more useful than she’d realised.