The day in Golden Flow stretched slowly, filled with the sounds of working mills and the rustle of wheat.
The first destination was the shop of a woman named Ingrid, the path to which became the first real test for me. The oversized boots clopped along the dusty road, forcing me to concentrate on every step so as not to lose my balance.
Ingrid's shop met me with a cacophony of smells: tanned leather, pungent dye, and a faint aroma of capital oils. Entering inside, we immediately saw a middle-aged woman with flame-red, curly hair standing at the back of the room.
"Oh, Elara! I was just thinking about you recently! How are yo... oh..." - Ingrid broke off sharply, seeing me enter after Elara.
"Interesting... Elara, who is this young man? Your new friend?" - Ingrid asks with interest and a smile.
Elara briefly told everything that had happened, while Ingrid looked at my tattoos peeking out from under my collar with professional interest.
"Hmm... well, well... I can't even imagine what it's like for you, boy... my husband also once got so drunk that his brains were knocked out and poor Bernard had to carry the fool home on himself, and in the morning he completely forgot what had happened the previous day. But I see your situation is much worse..." - Ingrid stated, losing her sense of tact in the moment, which made Elara cast a hinting, awkward look.
The woman immediately realized she had said too much.
"A... e... well, don't you worry, big guy, of course everything will clear up, and you'll remember everything, it just takes time and a strong woman!" - says Ingrid, winking at Elara, with the clear intention of making the girl feel even more awkward.
Later, Ingrid picked out sturdy leather boots for me - simple but reliable. When I put them on, the feeling of "free space" was replaced by a pleasant tightness.
My mind recorded a new concept: Comfort.
Having said goodbye to the shop owner, we headed to Grandmother Martha's bakery.
---
Already approaching the bakery, I felt a new and pleasant aroma of baking bread, and upon entering inside, the smell was so thick that it seemed it could be touched.
Life was buzzing inside. Leo, covered in flour up to his eyebrows, was enthusiastically throwing firewood into a huge oven, and little Mia was focused on making dumplings, with the tip of her tongue sticking out from the effort. Suddenly I heard a woman's voice, and turning in the other direction, I saw Grandmother Martha.
"So, here he is, our mysterious guest. The children have been chattering about nothing but you all morning".
She came closer, not smiling as openly as Elara, but in her movements was that kindness my companion had spoken of. She silently handed me a heel of still warm bread. Taking it in my hand, I felt a pleasant warmth, and sensing its softness, I intuitively wanted to squeeze it harder until I heard a characteristic crunch and completely crushed the heel, looking at what was happening with interest like a child.
Martha stepped closer to Elara slowly, addressing her in a whisper.
"His eyes are deep, girl. And right now he reminds me more of a child than an adult who has simply lost his memory".
Elara did not fully understand what Martha meant, so she answered the grandmother in a whisper, leaning slightly closer to her ear, while together they looked at me standing before Leo, who was showing me how to break the heel and eat it.
"What do you mean? Isn't everyone who loses their memory of everything going to look like a child?" - Elara asks.
"Eyes, Elara. It doesn't matter if you lost your memory or not, eyes are a reflection of the soul. If this soul is locked somewhere inside and is waiting for its awakening, it will manifest its signs in any case. But his eyes... they are like a blank slate... I have seen such eyes only in newborn children" - Martha adds warily.
Suddenly I jumped back slightly when Leo gave me a freshly baked, still hot bun. The freshly baked soft part immediately burned my hands as soon as I grabbed it with my entire palm. An attempt to toss the bun from palm to palm ended with the bread falling onto the flour-dusted floor. New definitions flashed and fixed in my head: Hot and Pain.
Leo began to burst into loud childish laughter, holding his stomach and addressing Mia.
"Mia, did you see? Did you see his face?"
Elara shushed her younger brother angrily and took a clean cloth, picking up the bread from the floor.
"Leo! That's not funny at all! Aren, how are you? Let me see your hand".
She gently took my palm, carefully examining it. The skin was reddened, but there was no serious damage. Martha stood at a distance; there was still concern in her thoughts, but then, paying attention to this whole scene in which I was surrounded by care, children's laughter, and warmth, a smile gradually appeared on her face.
"Don't be angry at the little one, Elara. Pain is the best teacher in this world. Now he knows what warmth is and what hot is. Body memory always returns first" - the grandmother said, while simultaneously pulling Leo by the ear.
Later, evening enveloped Golden Flow in soft twilight. Inside Martha's bakery, it became cooler, but the large oak table at which we all gathered radiated the warmth accumulated during the day. Before me stood a deep bowl of thick soup made of root vegetables and boiled wheat, and in the center of the table rose a mountain of that same fresh bread which I now took with caution.
Elara broke the bread and passed it to Mia, who was trying to eat the soup slowly and carefully.
"Be careful, this time it is just warm. Eat, you need to regain your strength".
My mind greedily recorded new sensations. The taste of salt, the sweetness of baked carrots, the satiety of meat. I ate in silence, listening to how my body responded to the food. With every swallow, the fog in my head became a bit less dense, and the movements of my hands became more confident.
Leo, in turn, tried to talk to me with his mouth full of food, simultaneously gesturing with a spoon.
"Aren, do you know that our mills are the biggest in Waldruhm? We use them for grinding, but in Aeris-Lund they can create little lightning bolts!"
Martha immediately answered Leo strictly, but with a shadow of a smile.
"Leo, don't talk while eating. Aren has learned enough today. He needs time to... put it all together in his head".
I looked up from my plate. Mia sat opposite, her small fingers clutching the spoon, and her eyes were fixed on my wrists, where black lines were visible from under the cuffs of my shirt. The room smelled of dying firewood, flour, and home - a concept I could not yet fully realize, but which was already beginning to give me a sense of security.
Elara thought for a moment, put down her spoon, and looked at me.
"Aren, I haven't even asked you what you think about staying here for a while..."
She looked at me with concern, only now remembering that in her empathy and desire to help, she hadn't even wondered if I agreed, although she realized that it was only a formal question, as no one with lost memory would dare to go into the dangerous unknown.
Silence hung over the table while I thought about the words Elara had said. I looked at everyone sitting at the same table with me until I lowered my gaze again.
"I... have no knowledge... I don't know where to go... what to do..."
A bitter mix of lostness, fear, and sadness was visible on my face. When it seemed that everyone at the table felt this heavy burden, young Leo's voice broke the silence.
"Then let's find out about everything, and then you'll understand where to go and what to do!"
I raised my head in surprise and looked at Leo. His eyes, full of confidence and energy, along with his smile, felt to me like light breaking through the clouds. Fear and lostness were no longer felt so strongly, and there was a clear feeling that I had finally grasped onto something.
Elara and Martha looked at Leo with loving smiles and pride, after which I smiled too.
"Yes. We will find out about everything. And we will understand where to go."
Leo's joy and happiness knew no bounds when, parallel to his reaction, Martha said - "I suppose that sounds like consent"
At that moment, Leo jumped off his chair and ran to me, shouting - "Hooray! Now I have another researcher friend! Give me a fist bump!"
Leo sharply extended his hand with a tightly clenched fist. I looked at him in confusion, then extended my hand in response and, hesitating, clenched my palm, while the boy, without waiting, immediately bumped it with his own. The light thump of the child's hand felt like something important. Something that I still had to understand more deeply, and something that I would value for a long time to come.
On this very evening, the Greenfield family opened a new chapter of their history. A story in which I, the mysterious stranger, temporarily became a part of their family circle, unaware of how my very existence forever started a cycle of irreversible changes that primarily affected their once quiet and peaceful home.