Naamaah found herself in a quiet square of Merida, Great Colombia, surrounded by the calm energy of the small city. The morning sun bathed the cobblestone streets in a soft glow as a cool breeze rustled the trees around her. She was with Diego and Castaña, her young companions who filled the air with laughter and mischief.
Her Spanish was not as fluent as she would have liked, but she managed to communicate well enough. "I speak Portuguese, it's not that different from Spanish," she would often say to herself with a smile.
Sitting on a bench, Naamaah indulged in a chocolate ice cream, savoring the sweet treat as she watched the statue of Simon Bolivar, the revered military leader, mounted proudly on his horse in the center of the square. The statue stood as a symbol of freedom and strength, a reminder of the country's tumultuous history. And close to her, a tall wind-up clock told her that it was almost nine.
Surrounded by lush vegetation, the square was a haven of tranquility amid the busy downtown. Naamaah found solace in the greenery, the rustling of leaves, and the flowery smell.
As Diego and Castaña darted off to play, their laughter echoing through the square, Naamaah closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of peace. But her respite was short-lived as Castaña stumbled upon a schoolteacher, causing her to drop her belongings in a flurry of papers and notebooks.
Rushing to the teacher's side, Naamaah knelt down to help gather the scattered papers, her heart heavy with guilt. "I'm very sorry, let me assist you," she offered in her accented Spanish, her eyes filled with remorse. The teacher accepted her apology graciously, a kind smile lighting up her face.
Then Naamaah showed the teacher a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it, a destination she needed to reach. The teacher, in turn, provided clear directions, guiding her to a nearby trolley stop where she could catch a ride.
Following the woman’s instructions, Naamaah waited patiently at the bus stop, the sounds of the city swirling around her. The clanging of the horseshoes against the cobblestone, the honking of a few steam wagons, the chatter of passersby, and the distant strains of music created a symphony of urban life. Despite this, she found the small city lovely.
When the trolley finally arrived, Naamaah and the kids boarded and settled into a seat by the window, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery. The journey seemed to stretch endlessly, each minute dragging by as she anxiously awaited her destination.
After what felt like an eternity, the trolley came to a stop, and Naamaah and the kids got off, stepping onto unfamiliar streets filled with unfamiliar scents and sounds. The new trolley stop was located near a bustling square in front of a bakery, the aroma of freshly baked bread wafting through the air.
Approaching a group of locals, Naamaah inquired about the address she sought, her voice tinged with a hint of urgency. They pointed her in the right direction, and she set off, her heart pounding with anticipation.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Navigating the winding cobblestone streets, Naamaah and her children finally arrived at a two-story house with a huge front yard, the address she had been searching for. At the entrance stood a man, a gardener by the look of him, his hands stained with earth.
"Does Mr. Schäfer live here?" Castaña asked eagerly, holding out the piece of paper with the address. The gardener's eyes lit up in recognition, a warm smile gracing his weathered features. "Yes, of course! I know Mr. Schäfer," he replied with a nod.
Naamaah stood before the towering gates of her friend's mansion, the anticipation of the reunion bubbling within her. In her broken Spanish she asked, "Can you tell him Naamaah is looking for him?"
“Nama?” the gardener asked.
“Yes, Naamaah!” she smiled.
The gardener nodded, getting back to the house, and disappearing through a side door. The pair of kids, filled with excitement, began to imitate the gardener's work, their laughter echoing through the courtyard.
Minutes later, the gardener returned, a smile on his weathered face. "He's coming."
As they waited, a gray-haired woman approached her chubby frame a stark contrast to the gardener's lean build. "Julia?" Naamaah asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
"Oh my god, it's you!" Julia exclaimed; her arms open wide. Naamaah embraced her, the years melting away as they laughed together.
"Come, come! Let’s get in.”
Once inside the house, Julia told Naamaah and the kids to sit down in the living room as she offered them something to drink.
"Jürgen... Someone came to visit you!" Julia yelled, her voice echoing through the halls of the mansion. A moment later, a green-eyed bald man appeared, his mustache and beard a testament to his advanced age.
"Oh my!" he exclaimed switching to German as his eyes filled with surprise. "What the heck are you doing here?"
"I came to visit my Prussian friend!" Naamaah laughed, as she approached to help him down the stairs.
"So funny,” Jürgen sighed. “I'm Swiss, not Prussian"
Naamaah approached him, her joy palpable as she hugged him tightly. He kissed her forehead, his affection for her clear in the gesture.
"How long has it been? Ten or fifteen years?" Jürgen asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Twelve," Naamaah replied, her smile wide. "In El Dorado!"
"It's so good to see you again, my dear," he said, his eyes filled with warmth.
As they settled into the living room, Naamaah couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her. The sights, sounds, and scents of the mansion transported her back in time, memories flooding her mind.
The intricate tapestries on the walls, the warm glow of a fireplace, and the soft cushions of the couch all added to the cozy atmosphere.
"Oh god! You almost killed me of a heart attack!" Jürgen's startled exclamation nearly sent Naamaah jumping out of her skin. She turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise.
"What do you mean, a strange presence?" she asked.
"I felt such an overwhelming presence for a few seconds a few kilometers away, you have such a powerful Aether signal I mean; I'm glad it was you."
“A few kilometers away? Like from the bakery?” Naamaah whistled. “Can you feel me from that far away?”
Jürgen shook his head, his expression troubled. "Your Aether signal is so potent, it's like a beacon. I thought... I thought it was something else entirely." He let out a nervous chuckle, trying to mask his unease.
Castaña and Diego stood by the window as they turned their faces toward Naamaah, reflecting a mix of fascination and curiosity. Naamaah followed their gaze and smiled.
The enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen, drawing Naamaah's attention. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.
Jürgen gestured for Naamaah to follow to the kitchen where Julia was serving three cups of coffee, and with a big smile, she gave one of them to Naamaah.