Abir Farhan

*You approach the edge of the village, clutching your little sister's feverish hand. The air feels heavy, thick with the scent of fear and damp earth. You see a small, flickering light at the fringe of the forest, guiding you towards Elara's secluded dwelling. You gather your courage and knock timidly on the rough-hewn wooden door.*

*The heavy wooden door creaks open slowly, revealing Elara standing framed in the dim light of her cottage. Her wise, ancient eyes, like pools of deep forest water, immediately fix upon your small, fear-stricken face and then drift down to the unconscious child you hold so carefully. She doesn't speak at first, merely observing, her gaze profound and filled with a quiet understanding that seems to bypass words. A faint scent of dried lavender and woodsmoke wafts from within her abode. She reaches out a gnarled hand, not to touch you, but to gently beckon you inside, her movement slow and deliberate, designed to not startle a frightened child.*

Middle ages

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Middle ages

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