In the morning, the boot was dry.
I ran my fingers along the inside before putting it on. The leather was still stiff, the seam was still in the same place, but there was none of that cold dampness waiting for my foot.
The wound on my heel hadn't disappeared.
I wrapped a strip of the cloth we'd used in the house around it. Thomas checked to make sure there wasn't a thick fold before I pulled the boot on. It felt tight in a different way.
I stood and took a few steps toward the door, then back again.
—I can do it.
He watched the way I walked.
—We'll take it slow.
I didn't promise I could go fast.
We ate nothing. We drank some of the water we'd left to cool and stored what we had in the house. Thomas checked the fire before we left. He carried the axe; I carried the branch and the container he'd used for gathering.
At the door, I looked at the two bowls on the shelf.
I hoped we'd come back with something.
The path to the cove already had sections I recognized. On the beach, however, we went beyond the rocks where I'd seen the crab. We chose the side where we could walk without climbing. Sometimes the strip of rocks narrowed and we had to climb a little through the trees, then descend again.
Thomas waited whenever I fell behind.
The third time, I asked him to stop looking at my foot.
He looked at the sea.
I felt embarrassed almost immediately, but kept walking.
The wind came from the side. There were birds over the water, and one swooped so close to the surface that I thought it might fall. It came back up with something caught in its beak.
I followed it until it disappeared behind a point of land.
That was when we heard the blows.
Thomas raised a hand.
We stopped.
Two strikes, a pause, another strike. They didn't sound like wood breaking on its own. Between them, I heard a voice, but couldn't make out the words.
My chest tightened.
I'd spent so long wanting to find someone that I didn't know what to do when someone finally seemed to be nearby.
Thomas shifted the axe, gripping it closer to the head, the blade pointed downward.
—We'll show ourselves slowly.
We went around the point along a higher stretch of ground.
There was a boat.
Small, pulled partway onto a strip of gravel, with oars inside. A man was bent over beside it. Farther ahead, a woman was working near a net spread across the rocks. There was a basket, a dark cloth, and fish that gleamed whenever she moved them.
The smell reached me before I could speak.
Fish, saltwater, something smoky clinging to their clothes.
The man saw us.
He stopped striking the piece of wood in his hands.
—Stay there.
I understood every word.
His voice was different from Thomas's, rougher, with a habit of stretching the ends of his sentences. But I didn't have to translate anything.
I stopped so abruptly that the tip of my branch slipped against the gravel.
The woman stood. There was a knife in her hand.
—We're looking for people — I said.
The man looked at the woman.
I heard my own words after I'd spoken them. I wanted to try again.
—I mean... food. We can work.
The woman examined Thomas first. The axe, the shoulder he kept slightly lower, his clothes. Then she looked at me.
—Where did you come from?
I pointed behind us.
—Along the coast.
—Before that.
I didn't answer immediately.
Thomas remained beside me, without filling the silence for me.
—I'm lost — I said. —I don't know this place.
She looked at the empty container in my hand.
—I can see that.
The man straightened. He was thin, with a short beard and one wrist wrapped in a strip of cloth. He had no armor, no sword, nothing that told me what people he belonged to. The woman wore a woolen covering over her hair, fastened in a way I wouldn't have known how to replicate.
I searched their clothes for a symbol.
I found none.
—My name is Varian. He's Thomas.
The woman shifted the knife to her other hand.
—Mara. That's Harl.
Harl didn't look pleased to have been introduced so quickly.
—Is there anyone else with you? — he asked.
—No.
Mara looked beyond us, toward the trees.
—Where did you spend the night?
I thought of the house, the fresh wood, the fact that I had no idea how to explain why a lost boy possessed a building that had appeared only moments ago.
—In a shelter among the pines. Near water.
It was true. It was also a smaller answer than the question.
She didn't look convinced, but lowered the knife.
There was a piece of bread on the cloth beside a bundle. I hadn't noticed it until Mara moved and stopped blocking it with her body.
I stared for too long.
—Do you have any coin? — she asked.
My thoughts went straight to the numbers.
Three hundred and forty-five.
My hand began moving toward my pocket before I stopped myself.
—No.
Mara followed the gesture.
—Then don't touch what's there.
My face grew hot.
—I wasn't going to...
She waited.
I closed my mouth.
Thomas spoke before the silence could get worse.
—We can pay with work. What needs to be done?
Harl looked at the axe.
—Know how to mend a net?
—I know how to work with rope. A net... you'd have to show me.
The man exhaled through his nose.
Mara pointed toward the section of net spread across the rocks.
—Removing the seaweed is already something. Don't pull on the knots. And those fish need cleaning.
Thomas nodded.
—I can clean them.
I looked at the bread again.
This time, I forced my eyes upward until they met hers.
—How much food?
Harl made a short sound, almost a laugh.
Mara looked at what was on the cloth, then at the basket of fish.
—Half that loaf and two small ones. Once you've finished what I set aside.
I didn't know whether that was too little, too much, fair, or simply a way to take advantage of us.
I knew what we'd eaten since I'd woken in the forest.
I looked at Thomas.
He gave a small nod.
—All right.
Harl pointed toward a stone farther away.
—The axe stays there.
Thomas hesitated just long enough to look at me.
I nodded.
He set the tool down, the handle facing us, and returned empty-handed.
Mara showed me where to sit. She crouched beside me, held part of the net, and removed a tangle of seaweed with short movements.
—Like this. If it catches, call me. Don't tear it just to finish faster.
I tried to copy her.
The first strand came away easily. The second was caught in a knot, and I pulled just enough to feel the net resist before stopping.
Mara held out her hand.
I gave it to her.
She freed the seaweed and handed the net back without saying anything.
Thomas worked beside the basket. Mara lent him the knife, then stayed nearby, preparing the fish she wanted to keep. Harl continued working beside the boat.
None of them turned their backs on us for long.
The net was cold and damp. Salt stung the scrape on my hand. I shifted my fingers and kept working.
After a while, I found the courage to ask.
—What's this place called?
Mara raised her head.
—This beach?
—The region.
She examined me again.
—Seadragon Point.
I waited to recognize the name.
Seadragon Point.
I thought of maps I'd seen from above, of names I might have known in another language. There were many places in Azeroth I wouldn't have been able to point to. A strange name didn't prove anything.
—Is it near Lordaeron?
Harl stopped working on the boat.
Mara frowned.
—Near what?
I repeated it more slowly.
She looked at Harl. He shook his head.
—Never heard of it — Mara said.
My hand stopped over the net.
Thomas looked at me from across the basket.
I wanted to ask more questions, all at once. Ask about cities, kings, someone everyone should know. But Mara had already returned to work, and Harl was watching us with less patience.
I lowered my eyes.
I removed another piece of seaweed.
The hunger had changed.
Not diminished; it simply had to share space with something else.
When Mara stepped away to fetch a fish Harl had set aside, I spoke quietly to Thomas.
—It could just be far away.
He kept looking at me.
—Could be.
The answer brought me no relief.
Later, Mara asked whether we intended to continue traveling.
I was trying to loosen a tangle without hurting my hand any further. It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me.
—I don't know. We thought about staying near where we found water.
—And do what?
I looked at Thomas. He kept the knife low, working carefully so he wouldn't strain the injured finger.
—Work. Maybe plant something.
Harl let out a humorless laugh.
—Might be wise to find out whose land it is first.
Mara gave him a look, but didn't disagree.
—Who rules here? — I asked.
She adjusted the cloth beneath the fish.
—These are Lord Stark's lands.
The word struck me before I could think about it.
For a moment, I couldn't hear the sea.
I looked at Mara.
—Stark?
My voice came out so quietly that I had to repeat it.
She frowned again.
—Yes.
I knew that name.
I knew it from somewhere else.
One image came, then another: walls, snow, a stern face on a screen. They didn't form an explanation. They felt like things I'd stored in the wrong drawer, and someone had just dumped them onto a table.
—From Winterfell? — I asked.
Mara stared at me.
—Where else?
One end of the net slipped from my lap.
I tried to catch it and knocked over the branch resting against the stone. The noise made Thomas look up.
—Varian?
I was staring at the bread on the cloth.
It was still there. The knife was still in Thomas's hand. The boat, the fish, the dirt beneath my fingernails.
Nothing had moved.
And yet I was no longer where I thought I was.
Westeros.
The name came from my memory. No one had said it.
Mara had said Stark. She had confirmed Winterfell. I'd put the rest together myself.
It wasn't Azeroth.
I felt a cold emptiness beneath my ribs.
—Are you feeling sick? — Mara asked.
I shook my head, then realized I didn't know what I was denying.
—I just need to sit properly.
—You're already sitting.
The answer might have made me laugh at another time.
I planted my feet, feeling my heel protest, and gripped the edge of the stone. Thomas set the knife down before coming closer.
—Water? — he asked.
I nodded.
Mara indicated a container beside the cloth. Thomas brought it, and I drank without looking at anyone's face.
Part of me wanted to ask about the king.
Another part remembered that I didn't know how much a question could reveal about the person asking it.
I had no map, no year, and no idea which Stark ruled. I knew a story filled with people who died, but I couldn't place my life anywhere inside it.
I thought of snow and forced the memory away.
There was a net in my lap. I needed to finish it if I wanted to eat.
I handed the water back.
—Thank you.
Mara watched me for another moment.
Then she picked up the fallen mesh and placed it on the stone within my reach.
—This part is caught underneath. Start here.
I started.
The work took a long time. My fingers lost their strength, and sometimes I had to stop and open and close them. Thomas took short breaks too, changing the way he supported his arm.
Mara corrected what we'd done wrong. Harl inspected the net before letting me move the cleaned section aside.
When we finished, he pointed out a piece of seaweed I'd missed.
I went back and removed it.
Only then did Mara cut the bread.
The sound of the knife passing through the crust made me forget, for a moment, every name I'd heard.
She also set aside the two promised fish. I received them in the container I'd brought from home. Thomas took up the axe after Harl stepped away from the stone.
I held the bread in both hands.
I didn't know whether I should wait until we left.
Mara noticed.
—You can eat, boy. That part is yours.
I tore off a piece. The crust resisted, and the inside was dense and slightly sour. I chewed too quickly and had to stop to swallow.
I handed the bread to Thomas.
He took a smaller portion than I wanted him to, but this time I didn't argue. I held on to the rest for the journey back.
—Do you come here often? — I asked.
Mara looked toward the sea.
—When the weather lets us. Don't count on any particular day.
—Can we work for you again?
She wiped the knife on the cloth.
—If there's work to be done. And if you don't ruin whatever I put in your hands.
I nodded.
Harl was already turning toward the boat when Mara added:
—Don't take fish from a basket or touch any net you find. Everything belongs to someone, even when no one's nearby.
—We won't touch anything.
She seemed to accept the answer, at least enough to return to her own work.
I thanked her again.
On the way back, I held the container against my body so the fish wouldn't slide around. Thomas carried the bread for part of the journey when I needed to put more weight on the branch.
I didn't speak until the point of land hid the boat from view.
—I was wrong.
Thomas slowed.
—About the place?
I nodded.
—Those names — I said. —Stark. Winterfell. I know them.
He waited.
—They're not from Azeroth.
Thomas looked at the trees, then at me.
—Then where are we?
The word sounded different when I had to say it to someone else.
—Westeros. I think... I'm almost certain.
—Have you been here before?
—No.
I didn't know how to explain the rest in a way that fit into that walk.
Thomas didn't pretend to understand.
—Do you know the way to any city?
I shook my head.
—Do you know who can help us?
I thought of a man who might still be alive, might be far away, might not be anything like I remembered. I thought of everything I'd need to know before saying his name with confidence.
—Not from here.
Thomas adjusted the axe in his hand.
We kept walking.
I expected a bigger question. How could I recognize a place I'd never been? Why did I know those names? What did any of it mean to him?
After a few steps, Thomas asked:
—Can we make it back before dark?
I looked along the coast. I recognized the stretch of rocks where we'd stopped on the way out.
—This way, yes.
He nodded.
It was an answer I could give.
When we found the path between the pines, my foot hurt with every step. The strip of cloth had shifted slightly out of place. I would have sat down if we hadn't been so close to the house.
The roof appeared between the trees.
For a moment, the sight seemed even more impossible than it had the day before.
A Farm. Thomas beside me. Stark and Winterfell on the lips of a woman cleaning fish.
Everything existed together, and I didn't understand why.
Thomas opened the door. I followed him inside and set the container on the table before sitting down.
I removed my boot slowly.
While he took care of what we needed to prepare the fish, I searched for the System.
Three hundred and forty-five gold. One hundred and thirty wood.
None of those numbers had helped Mara decide what to give us. She had looked at the cleaned net, the prepared fish, and the work she still needed done.
I let the numbers disappear.
I took the remaining bread and placed it on the shelf beside the bowls. We'd eaten part of it on the beach and another piece on the way back; what remained was small, but it could wait until morning.
—She said there might be more work.
Thomas looked over his shoulder.
—She did.
It wasn't a promise. I'd heard the condition.
I rested my hands on the table and stared at the closed door.
Now I knew the name of a woman who might sell us food, the name of a man who didn't trust us, and the name of a lord I had no intention of seeking out until I knew more.
It was little compared to the size of the place where I'd just discovered I was.
But there was bread on the shelf.