The Empty Mirror
Chapter 34: Fugitives
Beside the table stood a young woman, her freshness still lingering, bearing a beauty that defied her surroundings. Her countenance, moulded by delicate features and piercing hazel eyes, exhibited an amalgam of determination and courtesy. A faint smile crossed her cheeks, infusing her face with an aura of innocence and freshness. Her lips, tinted pink and parted in a soft pout, exuded a taciturn invitation to chat and camaraderie, though slightly surprised by my presence.
The young woman's hair flowed in silky waves over her shoulders, displaying a show of auburn and golden hues that framed her countenance with a charming grace. Though her garment showed wear and discolouration, it still retained a hint of elegance in its cut and tailoring. The fabric, once splendid, had yielded to the passage of time and constant wear, shedding its lustre and colour, leaving behind it the traces of daily life and experience.
The dress, now faded and worn, bore traces of faded lace and embroidery, evoking past times of greater splendour. Despite her humble appearance, the young woman wore it with grace and dignity, demonstrating that true beauty lies in confidence and attitude, beyond any material ostentation. Her presence, though modest, radiated serenity and warmth, underlining that true elegance transcends outward appearances.
Beside her stood an older woman, exhibiting a more mature and serene, yet equally striking, beauty. The passing of the years had carved furrows of experience and prudence into her face, yet she retained an affable and understanding expression. Her warm brown eyes reflected the depth of her experiences and the tenderness of her soul. Her hair, now streaked with silver strands, was neatly tied back in a simple but distinguished bun.
Despite the wrinkles in her complexion, her eyes were still bright and full of life, emanating a warmth that inspired confidence and respect. The older woman's clothing, like the younger woman's, showed signs of wear and simplicity, but she looked impeccably neat and well cared for. Her dress, of classic cut and soft tones, reflected her sober and refined style, suited to her age and social position.
Although her magnetism no longer rivalled the splendour of her possible youth, she radiated a timeless elegance. Both the ladies and the gentleman present seemed awestruck, but above all, they were in awe and awe at the sight of my white hair on a youthful, youthful face. Yet their quickened palpitations suggested a latent goodness.
"We were about to enjoy our meal; we have prepared a soup. You look hungry... Please take a seat; I will see to it that you have some," said the man as he gestured towards the rustic wooden table.
Suddenly, the younger woman rose from her seat and approached me cautiously. Taking my hand, she led me to the place at the table, softly pronouncing: "It may not be the most exquisite soup, but I hope it will be to your liking. He then urged me to take his place next to the older woman.
The man returned bearing a finely carved wooden plate and a gleaming metal spoon, holding a mushroom soup, with sparse mushrooms and green leaves for flavouring, garnished with lean meat. It was possible that the meat was merely an accent to enhance the flavours of the broth and did not integrate its full composition.
The heady aroma of the soup wafted up into the clear forest air, mingling with the smoke of the campfire and the fragrant scents of the surrounding flora. Though the soup lacked the refinements and spices of haute cuisine, its flavour was genuine and hearty, fit to satiate a pilgrim's appetite.
I took the spoon between my fingers and dipped it into the broth to taste it. I was always a bit paranoid, especially at junctures like this, but it turned out to be the most exquisite delicacy I had tasted in a long time. With rapture, I tasted two more spoonfuls, sensing the expectations of those present, especially the inquisitive gaze of the woman at my side, who looked perplexed.
It was at that moment that the man's voice caught my attention. "What is your name, Miss?" - he asked in a calm tone. "Giselle" - I replied rather curtly. Noticing that my lips refrained from pursuing the soup, the woman at my side set herself up as the presenter of those present in the hut, as if directing the scene on the basis of her seniority and judgement. "This is Dougal, this is my daughter Esma, and lastly, my name is Hilda. How do you do, young lady," said Hilda.
Almost at once, I expressed my gratitude: "I am most grateful for your hospitality. But far from inquiring into the cause of my arrival in the undergrowth or other momentous questions, Hilda questioned me: "Why... is your hair of white dawn?" Her inquiry threw me into some perplexity, but I replied almost at once, curving the corners of my mouth upwards in a smile curling my lips: "Because I am a mother now.
The looks, at first, showed latent astonishment, but when they perceived the jocular malice dancing on my features, they understood that my words were mere trickery. The woman, Esma, wove a knowing smile, while the others, including herself, chose to relegate the subject of my hair to oblivion. Esma was noted for her commendable insight into my person, being the most lustrous in the council.
It should be noted that my allusion to her "freshness" does not derive from my own advanced age; on the contrary, her youthful radiance stood out against my incipient youth, for though she seemed to be in her early twenties, I could still be considered to be in the blooming stage of adolescence. Undoubtedly, I occupied the youngest seat on the estancia, and Esma proved to be the one who best matched my unique temperament.
As for the male, Dougal, he was of a similar age to Esma, though with a slight, barely perceptible disparity. What distinguished him, however, was his grim countenance and contemplative gesture, attributes that lent an air of greater experience despite his apparent youth.
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On the other hand, Hilda, Esma's matron, was approaching the age of fifty. Although to imply an older age might seem inappropriate and untrue given her presence, it was clear that she had accumulated the experience and wisdom that comes with age.
I continued to consume the soup as I watched Esma prepare to serve it, holding three wooden plates. Dougal, with a barely perceptible gesture, declined gallantly, indicating that he did not wish to eat at that moment. Esma, understanding the gesture, placed one of the plates on the shelf and poured the soup into the remaining bowls, then placed them on the table.
Dougal then took a loaf of bread laid out on a cloth that sheltered other pieces, still scarce in number. Moving towards the beds, he sat down and began to devour the bread, paying no attention to appearances.
Esma made herself comfortable in front of me, on the seat that Dougal had kindly given her, and then presented her mother with one of the plates full of soup, and they both began to eat, both of them holding their spoons with determination. At that moment, Dougal questioned from a distance: "Why were you wandering in the woods at odd hours, so far from civilisation? That's extremely risky," he questioned measuredly.
"I am a traveller; however, I have lost my way for a few days now and cannot see any town nearby” - I asserted, concocting a plausible narrative.
"A lost traveller, how unfortunate, but fortunately you are not far from the city" - he replied thoughtfully.
"Is there a city nearby?" - I inquired, scrutinising his sapience.
"Yes, it's one of the main cities on the continent" - he replied seriously.
"Really, where is it? Where is it? Which way do I have to go?” - I asked longingly.
"The town lies to the east from this point. However, to cross the distance on foot to the town from this point would entail a tiring journey that might well extend until sundown, bringing with it certain dangers” - he warned cautiously.
To which Hilda replied: "We should escort her. She is too tender to continue her solitary wanderings in the woods without a guide”.
"You know that's not feasible, we don't know if the memory of our faces still lingers” - Dougal lamented.
"However, we could at least leave her near the edge of the forest, so that she can continue on her way to the city by her own means," suggested Hilda.
"Even so, it would be foolhardy for us. I am not only referring to the risks that lurk in the city, but also to those of the forest. It is risky to go into the undergrowth at night. Even if we set out at dawn, we would have to return after sunset or spend the night in the open," Dougal said grimly.
"But we can't let her go alone, Dougal. Even as a seasoned traveller, wandering alone could lead to misfortune," Esma interjected uneasily. Then she added: "We could accompany her and leave her as close as possible to the confines of the forest, even if we can't guard her until her final destination.
"No, you must not venture. If we are to do anything for her, then I will accompany her alone, and you will remain here. I will take her to the outskirts and return as soon as possible. Besides, I have a weapon at my disposal. No misfortune will befall. Only be cautious in your solitude, though even so I do not think it wise to leave you, not in this hut that has been here for who knows how many moons. There could be wolves lurking, in both directions..." - Dougal commented meticulously.
"That's not essential. Don't be overly anxious about me. I'm an able traveller, I'm just a bit disoriented. If you can guide me and show me the way to the city, that will suffice," I said sternly as they deliberated on my situation, which brought everyone into silence for a few moments.
"If you decide to venture out alone, be cautious. I can draw a map with Dougal's help," Esma said with understanding before adding, "It is admirable to watch you travel. You are so sprightly, even more so than I am. I doubt if I could survive a day in the forest on my own.
"The forest can be your accomplice or your most enigmatic lover, maybe both" - I answered promptly, pondering over my words.
"You glow with majesty under that purple cloak, you truly exude the spirit of a traveller" - Esma commented with charm in her tone of voice. "I thank you" - I replied with gratitude for the compliment.
"Do you carry any weapons with you? How have you withstood these days? Where do you rest?" - Esma inquired.
"I have subsisted on nuts and mushrooms. Only a few days have passed since my arrival, but I have tried to find food and water. Even so, the hunger is still there, and the nights are spent in the thicket of trees, sheltered under this purple imperial cloth. And yes, a razor accompanies me” - I replied quietly, carefully concealing the truth about the castle and my stay there. I would reveal nothing about this individual or the pale ones, keeping my intentions and my past shrouded in mystery.
"Are you from the central city of the continent? That dress, though dilapidated, seems worthy of the main city. Besides, you give the impression of being literate rather than a traveller” - Hilda asked as she wiped her lips after finishing her soup. I, for my part, shook my head in gratitude after being asked if I wanted more soup, while Esma poured me water from a metal canteen in a tavern bowl.
"Yes, I am from the central city, but what are you doing here in this forest?" - I said cautiously, observing how Esma's and Hilda's countenances took on a gloomy and melancholy tinge.
"I should not speak of this to a stranger, but you, G-Giselle, look like an honest child, don't you, Dougal?" - asked Esma dutifully.
"Yes, she is an honest girl” - said Dougal gravely.
"Dougal is my beloved, and as I'm sure you've heard, she is my progenitor. We come from Bafranbu, one of the main cities of the continent, located north of here. We are in this forest out of dire necessity” - Esma began to recount with regret.
"What do you mean by dire necessity?" - I asked, fearful that these souls had also fallen prey to the influence of the forest anomaly.
"We are fugitivos” - Hilda interrupted disdainfully.
"Please don't misunderstand our situation; we have committed no crime. We are fugitives, but not from justice. We are being pursued by iniquitous individuals" - clarified Esma without delay.
"Iniquitous individuals?" - I asked perplexed.
"Oh, yes, behold, the mafia. We are fugitives of the mafia" - lamented Esma with a tone imbued with disenchantment.