The sun's warm rays caressed Anna's face, gently coaxing her out of her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself lying next to Margarita, their bodies wrapped in thick blankets made of brown sheep's wool. The touch of the fabric against her skin offered a great deal of comfort amidst the harshness of the desert. Even though she could tell they weren’t luxury items, she felt like she was sleeping in clouds.

A man in his thirties, his weathered face carved with lines of experience, noticed Anna stirring and called out to the others. The camp slowly came to life as the group of travelers gathered around, their weather-beaten faces betraying a mix of curiosity and concern. All four of them were Mongols, their features marked by the ruggedness of a nomadic life. Three small children and three women approached showing a little surprise on their faces.

A few minutes later, other three men and a woman wearing the same kind of coats stepped out from one of the nearby yurts. Their fair complexions and distinct Caucasian features betrayed they were Westerners. The woman, with a gentle grace in her movements, approached Anna.

The woman asked her something in what Anna thought were at least five different languages. “How do you feel?” The woman finally landed in English.

“Better,” Anna nodded.

The woman placed a caring hand on Anna's forehead, checking for any signs of fever. Satisfied, the woman moved on to Margarita, who groaned slightly opening her eyes but lacked the energy to sit up.

One of the Mongol men, an old man dressed in a flowing blue deel coat, approached Anna, offering her a drink.

“It’s Khoormog,” the woman smiled. “A fermented camel milk drink.”

Anna hesitated but took the cup and sipped it. It had a sour, mildly alcoholic, fat-rich taste. It was a weird drink she didn’t know how to describe it.

“It’s an acquired taste,” the woman said as Anna downed the cup. “My name is Lowry. A medic.”

“I’m Anna.”

Confusion clouded Anna's mind as she whispered in English. "Where are we?"

A blond man answered with a hint of pride. "We are on a trade route, traveling with a Mongolian nomad family. We, on the other hand, are from the United States. Explorers, adventurers, and journalists working for a non-profit scientific and educational institution. By the way, I’m Mark."

Anna's brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. "Why did you help us?"

The woman, identifying herself as Lowry, answered. "You stumbled into our camp three days ago, completely dehydrated, and your partner was gravely wounded. We couldn't just leave you there. I've been tending to your injuries and taking care of you both as best as I could."

"Three days...?" Anna's voice trailed off, her mind struggling to grasp the concept of time lost.

A man in his thirties, one of the Mongolian nomads, approached the American man and told him something in a language Anna had never heard before. "He says that what attacked you was a creature known as the Olghoï-Khorkhoi.”

Anna's eyes widened in disbelief. "Olgo Koko...? What is that?"

"It's a deadly beast, a tale whispered in hushed tones by the nomads. Giant desert worms with bright red skin and deadly venom." Mark explained. "They believe it to be a deadly predator that lurks beneath the sands, waiting to strike."

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Anna's desperation grew, her voice trembling. She asked the question that plagued her mind. "Where exactly are we?"

A sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air as the answer reached her ears. "We are in the heart of the Gobi Desert, Outer Mongolia," Mark replied solemnly.

Anna's breath hitched as she stared at the woman before her, her lips pressed together tightly, barely containing the storm of rage, confusion, and despair that brewed within her. With a deep breath, she finally found her voice. "Thanks for helping us."

As she stood up, Anna's eyes widened in surprise. She realized that she was also wearing a deel coat like everyone else, a stark contrast to the tattered clothing she had been wearing before. "I changed your clothes, don't worry!" Lowry said, her voice filled with kindness. Anna couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards the medic, even amidst the confusion and uncertainty that clouded her mind.

Drawing closer to the group of Mongols, Anna mustered a grateful smile and nodded in their direction.

"The bearded man is Alen, the oldest among us, the family patriarch," One of the other two Americans said. “I’m Joe, journalist and translator,” Joe took the lead and began making the introductions. "The youngest is Serik," Joe continued, indicating a young boy with wide, curious eyes. And the man with the hat is Askar," he finished, pointing towards a man tending the camels.

An hour later, Margarita finally woke up, her eyes fluttering open. Together with Anna, they sat down to eat the stew that the family had prepared. The warmth of the food seeped into Anna's bones, offering comfort.

Curiosity burning within him, Mark couldn't help but ask the question that had been nagging at him. "What are you doing here?" He inquired, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Anna's brows furrowed as she shook her head. "I do not know...” She stuttered. "I can't remember anything!"

"Oh... And where do you come from?" He asked, frowning in disbelief. His curiosity getting the better of him.

Anna's mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse or a fake story. "From... Russia!?" she murmured, the uncertainty evident in her voice.

Mark's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued. "Imperial Russia, huh? Are you some wealthy noblewoman, a... is that it?" he asked, his voice laced with speculation.

Anna nodded slowly, her mind reeling. "Effectively," She answered, trying to sound a bit sophisticated.

“How can you tell?”

“Well, you speak very good English with barely any accent, so you must have gotten a very good education. I apologize if I’m being a bit too blunt, my lady,” Mark bowed.

As Mark continued his questioning, switching between Russian and English, Anna pretended to understand, nodding along with his words. Beside her, Margarita searched through her belongings until she finally found a small purse. From within it, she noticed Margarita procured her wand.

"Margarita," Anna whispered, leaning closer. "What are you doing?"

Margarita's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "I will cast a spell to speak Russian fluently. They must believe we're natives. Wait for me," she said, her voice barely audible.

“What’s your relationship?” Mark scratched his chin.

“You ask too many questions!” Lowry interrupted, handing them drinks.

“Margarita is my maid,” Anna said, sipping tea.

----------------------------------------

With a quick excuse about needing to relieve herself, Margarita stepped away and pretended to be busy with her own needs. Unseen by the others, she whispered an incantation under her breath, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"Lapsus Memoriae," Margarita murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. One of the nomads, who had been tending to the animals nearby, suddenly became mesmerized, his gaze fixed on Margarita. She waved at him to come. She leaned closer to him so that he could whisper into her ear.

A faint gust of wind floated around his head as it came out of his mouth. Then a faint yellow moved toward her head.

"Linguae Ruskki, Linguae Mongol, Linguae Kazakh, Linguae Guanhua,” she whispered, casting two spells on herself, then on Anna in the distance.

“Oh, dear. You happened to know the basics of many languages,” she said. “Thanks! Now, go back,” The nomad returned to the animals and continued tending to them without ever noticing what happened.

“Lady Anna, I’m back,” Margarita returned, bowing. However, this time, she spoke fluent Russian.

As they continued their conversation, Mark suddenly exclaimed, "Well! That’s an interesting story!" The excitement in his voice was palpable, his curiosity finally satisfied.

For the remainder of their time together, Margarita and Anna spoke in pristine Russian with Mark, the language flowing effortlessly between them, sometimes switching to English with the rest of the people.