The Stranger of Woodland

Chapter Three: The Stranger

Laila's POV

The first thing I felt was the weight of the air around me. It was warm, heavy, and scented faintly with something sweet, like crushed flowers and smoke. The second was the ache.

It started behind my eyes and throbbed through my skull until even breathing hurt. I tried to move, but my limbs felt like they didn’t belong to me. My body was wrapped in softness — a blanket, maybe and underneath, something smooth brushed my skin.

It took effort to open my eyes. The ceiling above me was made of wooden beams, each one uneven and weathered. Sunlight leaked in through a small window, casting golden patches across the room. I blinked, trying to focus, but the light made my head spin.

When I turned my head slightly, I realized I wasn’t anywhere familiar. It was a young lady's room.

The walls were covered with faded drawings of flowers, birds, and one or two clumsy portraits that looked like they’d been made in another lifetime. A small table by the window held a mirror with a c***k running through the center, its edges cluttered with ribbons, shells, and beads. On the floor sat a pair of well-worn boots beside a woven basket filled with dried petals.

A shawl, pale blue, frayed at the ends, hung from a wooden hook, and beside it, a necklace of polished stones caught the morning light.

It felt lived-in, warm, and… safe.

A girl’s laughter drifted faintly from beyond the door, followed by the deeper rumble of male voices. I pushed myself up slowly, but a sharp pain behind my temple made me stop. My fingers found a strip of cloth tied around my head, soft, clean, and carefully knotted.

The laughter came again, then hushed tones, footsteps. My heart began to beat faster.

Where was I?

Who were these people?

I tried to remember anything. A name, a place, a face. But the harder I reached, the further everything slipped away, like trying to hold water in my hands. All that came were flashes: the dark, the sound of running, branches tearing at my arms, the taste of blood and wind.

And then the fall.

I gasped, gripping the blanket: the cliff, the edge, the cold rush of air, water, and loss of air. Then nothing.

The door creaked slightly, and I froze. Voices carried through the half-open gap. “I’m telling you, we should inform the elders before sunset,” a man’s voice said, firm but not harsh.

Another followed it, a younger one: “Father is right. What if she’s from the coastal towns? People will start asking questions.”

“Or what if she’s not from anywhere nearby?” a third voice added, lighter and more anxious. “She could be running from something. Or someone.”

There was a pause, then the sound of something being set on the table, maybe a cup.

“She’s hurt,” said another voice, softer. The same one I’d heard first when I woke, the one that had wrapped around me like comfort. “That’s all we need to know for now. The rest can wait.”

I pressed my fingers to my bandaged temple, trying to match the voices to faces I hadn’t seen.

“Maddy, your cousins will arrive soon, to take you for your cleansing” a woman’s voice said. "You will go to your aunt's house with them.”

“Okay Mama,” the soft voice, Maddy replied.

Then a new tone entered the mix, calm but edged with caution. “Mother, Father…” The speaker paused. “You’re all assuming she needs protection. But what if she’s the danger?” The room went quiet.

“She washed up ashore, Hunter,” the father said evenly.

“Yes,” the man — Hunter — replied. “But ask yourselves why a young woman would be alone out there. Not unless she’s hiding from something.”

A strange tension filled the silence that followed. I could almost feel it. Like a thread pulled tight.

Then another voice broke in, impatient. “Come on, Hunter, she was barely breathing when they found her. You think someone that hurt could harm us?”

“That’s not what I said, Max.”

“Well, it’s what it sounds like.” “I’m with Hunter,” said a third male voice — steadier, quieter. “We should be careful.”

“Enough.” The father’s tone cut through the bickering. “We’ll take precautions. But she stays. Until the elders decide.”

A chorus of murmured agreement followed. But my pulse had already changed, quick, erratic. Because of one thing. Hunter’s voice.

It was the way he said it. Calm, deliberate, low enough that it lingered even after he’d gone silent. There was something in it I couldn’t name. Something that made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

I shifted again, ignoring the sting in my head, and listened.

The mother, Cecil spoke next, her voice kind but commanding. “Whatever she’s been through, she’s someone’s daughter. That’s all that matters today. I’ll bring some broth for the child.”

Their footsteps moved away, the murmur of conversation fading toward another part of the house.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

So this was their home.

The woman who’d helped me, Cecil. Her daughter is Maddy. The men must have been her sons and Husband.

They were talking about me, a stranger who’d landed in the middle of their lives.

I looked around again, at the small wooden table with its scattered trinkets, the woven rug by the bed, the stack of folded dresses near the corner. Whoever Maddy was, her world was simple, gentle and I had crashed right into it.

I wanted to get up, to walk out and thank them, to explain, but there was nothing to explain. My mind was a blank wall, and every time I tried to climb it, the world swayed. I couldn’t stay still.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood, unsteady. The floor was cool under my bare feet. I reached the window, steadying myself on the frame, and looked out.

A wide field stretched beyond the small house, dotted with tall trees whose leaves shivered in the breeze. In the distance, I could see the faint glint of water, the sea, maybe.

It was beautiful. Peaceful. But it wasn’t mine.

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the cool glass. Somewhere inside me, I knew people were searching for me; voices shouting my name, faces I couldn’t see. And among them, one that made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t understand.

Daniel.

The name came suddenly, unbidden, as if whispered into my ear. I gasped, stepping back from the window, my heart hammering.

Daniel.

Footsteps approached the door again, and I quickly slipped back into bed, feigning sleep. The door creaked open, I heard a soft exhale and Maddy’s voice.

“She’s still resting, Mama,” she whispered.

“That’s good,” came Cecil’s reply. “Let her rest. Today will be long for both of you.” The door closed gently.

I opened my eyes again and stared at the ceiling, my pulse still quick and uneven.

I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know where I came from. I started to drift into sleep again, the voice of the one called Hunter whispering questions.