—You were lost in thought— Kaela sighed, her voice a mix of practical annoyance and something that bordered on concern. —You know, I can’t just leave you like this. I’ve already decided. After we get out of here, you’re coming with me. You need to learn a few things at least— She flashed a crooked, almost exasperated smile and tilted her head to one side, as if evaluating a problem that, against her will, had already become her own.

  Work. Perhaps. The thought crossed Selena’s mind like a flash of lucidity amidst the chaos. It was a unique offer a rope thrown from the shore of a world she understood into the murky waters in which she was currently splashing. She spoke, and this time her voice sounded less foreign, firmer, as if the decision had returned a fragment of control to her.

  —It’s true— she said, looking directly into Kaela’s dark, piercing eyes. —Forgive me, I was thinking that everything was too obvious. And I hadn’t even hidden it well. I’ll go with you, as soon as we finish.

  The next hour passed in the monotonous, physical rhythm of cleaning. They swept, shook out mattresses, and raised clouds of dust that danced in the increasingly slanted sunbeams. Selena imitated Kaela’s movements with growing fluidity, as if her body —independent of her confused mind— was happily following the routine. The silence between them was no longer awkward; it was filled with the swish-swish of the brooms and the crackling of straw, a tacit language of shared labor.

  They finished and followed the other women to the dining room, being the last to arrive. The atmosphere was bustling, heavy with the thick, comforting aroma of porridge steaming in a huge iron pot on the long table. Anya greeted them with a smile and a gesture toward the empty seats. They took their places, and the sister of charity served generous portions in worn wooden bowls. After everyone had eaten, Anya clasped her hands and began the prayer of gratitude, her serene voice guiding the collective murmur of the women. Selena lowered her head, moving her lips in silence, feeling the strangeness of the ritual but also a spark of belonging to this small circle.

  The departure was an orderly, slow process. One by one, the women stood and headed toward the shelter’s gate. Anya saw them off at the threshold with a word of support for each concrete touch of humanity in the grayness of the morning. She reminded Enara not to overexert her twisted hands; she told Tessa to keep her stiff leg well-covered; to others, she offered small gestures of encouragement that seemed to briefly renew their fragile determination. Selena waited her turn, feeling the weight of her new bag and the coins hidden in its lining like a warm secret.

  —Take care, little one— Anya said, placing a warm, calloused hand on her shoulder. —May the Flow guide you.

  Selena nodded and stepped out into the cool morning air. Kaela had already turned the corner of the side street, walking away with a determined stride. Selena quickened her pace and followed.

  She found her leaning against a cracked adobe wall in a wider alley that smelled of damp earth and distant smoke. As soon as she saw her, Kaela spoke without preamble, her tone as direct as a knife thrust.

  —You probably don’t even know the streets— she stated, her dark eyes scouring the surroundings with the caution of a stray animal. —By the way, this neighborhood is dangerous. And I think you know it, based on how tightly you’re clutching that bag— She scratched her chin with a thoughtful gesture. —Follow me.

  There were no further explanations. Kaela plunged into a labyrinth of dirt paths alleys that branched off between crumbling adobe houses and fences made of dry branches. Selena followed, trying to memorize the turns and landmarks: a faded blue door, a crimson-colored tree with branches that made it look like coral, the constant, distant sound of the stream. The air changed gradually, becoming impregnated with the smell of moisture, aquatic vegetation, and finally, fresh, salty fish.

  Suddenly, the alley opened onto a wide clearing. Before them, a simple but solid wooden bridge crossed the wide bed of the stream. On the other side, a small fisherman's market unfolded like a living painting: makeshift stalls with plank tables, wicker baskets overflowing with silver and white scales, and the bustle of vendors hawking their dawn catches. The riverbank was lined with trees with long, drooping branches that swayed gently, releasing fine, platinum dust into the air that floated like a luminous mist.

  Kaela didn't cross the bridge immediately. She stopped on the near bank, on the periphery of the bustle, where the ground was packed earth and stones. From the humble string bag hanging from her shoulder, she pulled out a rough but clean blanket. She spread it on the ground with an expert motion. Then, she extracted two short knives—wide-bladed and sharp, with dark wooden handles worn by use.

  —This is what I’m proposing for today— Kaela said, and for the first time, a genuine smile, devoid of irony or annoyance, lit up her face. —Learn a trade. We’ll clean fish. For five soft pennies each— She dropped the words like someone listing the terms of a fair contract. —I know it’s not much. But we’ll have enough for a decent lunch today— She handed her one of the knives, the edge gleaming faintly in the sunlight breaking through the branches.

  Selena took the knife. The handle was rough in her soft palm; the weight was balanced and strangely familiar. She nodded.

  —Good, Selena. Now only the important part remains— Kaela cupped her hands in front of her mouth, inhaled deeply, and her voice —rough but powerful— tore through the murmur of the market: —FISH CLEANED HERE! FIVE SOFT PENNIES! FAST AND WELL DONE!

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Then, turning to Selena, she gave her a light nudge on the arm. —Help me.

  At first, Selena hesitated. Her cry was weak, muffled by shyness and the strangeness of it all. But Kaela didn't laugh; she only nodded, encouraging her to continue. Little by little, Selena found the rhythm. Her voice joined Kaela's, creating a duet of an offer amidst the sonic chaos.

  It didn't take long for the first customers to arrive: a fisherman with hands still slimy with scales, a woman with a basket on her arm, an elderly man who nodded with deliberate slowness. Kaela took the first fish —a thick, silver freshwater creature— and placed it on the blanket. Her hands, calloused and agile, moved with a precision that was pure practical poetry. A clean cut from throat to tail, rapid evisceration, and butchering into fillets or chunks, depending on the request. It was all done in a matter of moments.

  —Now you— Kaela said, placing another, smaller fish in front of Selena.

  Selena looked at it. The scales shimmered; the glassy eyes watched her. She took the knife. And then, something happened. It wasn't her hands —Selena’s soft hands— that moved. It was her mind, or more precisely, the distant, blurred echo of the man from Earth's mind. A muscular memory, a recollection of skill that didn't belong to this body, yet found a way out nonetheless.

  Her fingers closed around the handle with a certainty that surprised her. The first cut wasn't clumsy. It was decisive. The blade slid through the silver skin with an almost automatic fluidity. She didn't think about the steps; her body executed them. She opened the belly, removed the viscera with a clean motion, and separated the head with a precise twist of the wrist. It was fast. Too fast for a novice.

  Kaela had stopped in the middle of her own work to watch her. Her dark eyes had widened slightly; her usual expression of skepticism had transformed into pure amazement.

  —Well— she murmured, when Selena finished and laid the cleaned, filleted fish on a piece of clean cloth. —That wasn't… what I expected.

  Selena didn't know what to say. She only looked at her own hands, now stained with scales and slimy residue, holding the knife with terrifying naturalness.

  The work continued. With each fish, Selena’s movements became more fluid, more confident. It wasn't the instinctive grace of Kaela, born of years of repetition, but the precise efficiency of someone who had learned a technique and executed it with absolute concentration. It was the mind of the translator, the student, applying itself to a practical problem with the same meticulousness it had previously dedicated to Cyrillic texts.

  The sun climbed in the sky, warming the earth and the air heavy with scents. When their shadows shortened until they almost disappeared, marking the zenith, they were finished. The coins, a mixture of soft pennies, jingled in Kaela’s small cloth bag. They gathered the blanket, now stained and damp, and the knives.

  Kaela led Selena back toward the stream bed, but this time they moved away from the bridge and the market, following the current toward a more solitary stretch where the water flowed clear and cold over a bed of smooth, rounded stones. There, Kaela washed the blanket with energetic movements, rubbing it against the rocks until the water running off it turned transparent again. She cleaned the knives in the water, then with fine sand, and dried them with a cloth. Finally, she spread the blanket over a massive flat stone, weighing down its corners with smaller rocks so the sun and breeze could dry it.

  Both sat on a nearby rock warmed by the sun, and a comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the murmur of the water and the distant song of a bird. Kaela was the first to speak, her gaze lost in the clear blue sky.

  —I didn't think you’d be good at cleaning fish— she said, her voice holding a tone of genuine admiration. —Pretty fast for a novice— She turned to Selena, a playful smile appearing on her lips. —Maybe I underestimated you, thinking a merchant’s daughter wouldn’t know how to do anything— She let out a brief, clear laugh. —I’m even starting to believe your father sold fish instead of fabrics— She covered her mouth with one hand, stifling another laugh.

  Selena felt a wave of relief. The lie rose to her lips with a fluidity that was beginning to alarm her. —Actually, my mother taught me— she said, keeping her voice neutral. —My grandfather had been a fish merchant. But he died when she was young, and all he could bequeath to me was how to clean one well. As you can see.

  For a moment, a shadow of discomfort reflected on Kaela’s face a flash of doubt. But Selena didn't let her dwell on it. She broke into laughter, a light and real sound that surprised even herself.

  —Don't you believe it!— she exclaimed, shaking her head. —It’s a lie.

  For a second, Kaela stared at her, bewildered. Then, her expression relaxed, and a frank, loud laugh escaped her lips. Both laughed, the sound blending with the murmur of the water a moment of genuine complicity in the midst of the absurdity of their situations.

  —Well— Kaela said, wiping a tear of laughter with the back of her hand. —Since you’ve come out with a surprise like that, I suppose I should be the one to pull out a surprise lunch. Unfortunately, I’ll have to buy it— She stood up, stretching her arms. —Wait for me and watch the blanket until I get back.

  Without waiting for an answer, she ran off with the agility of someone who knows every stone of the path. Selena watched her move away, crossing the stream by a narrower, more worn bridge a few meters upriver. She watched her disappear among the trees on the other side.

  Time passed slowly, marked by the sun on her skin and the sound of the water. Selena closed her eyes, letting the heat permeate her, momentarily chasing away the ghosts of the disappeared blood and the dreams of glass desks. Until she heard the sound of quick footsteps approaching over the stony bed.

  Opening her eyes, she saw Kaela running back, breathless but with a triumphant smile. In one hand, she carried a small clay jar plugged with a cork; in the other, a loaf of dark, crusty bread. But she wasn't coming alone. Trotting behind her with awkward determination was a creature.

  It was green, with wrinkled, damp skin, bulging eyes, and horizontal pupils. An anurhy. The same type of creature that had stalked her in the alley when she was with Rolus. But this one was thinner; its ribs showed under its skin, and its croak was more of a piteous whimper.

  Panting, Kaela stopped in front of Selena. —Sorry— she said between breaths. —It insisted on following me. After I gave it a fish a few days ago, every time it sees me, it follows— She made a gesture of affectionate resignation toward the creature, which stopped at a safe distance, watching them with its strange eyes.

  Then, Kaela held out the jar and the bread. —Milk and bread. We’re rich today— Her smile widened, showing her teeth. —We did well, ha! We made two hard pennies. All thanks to the skill… inherited from your grandfather— She winked at her, sharing the joke.

  The joke lingered in the air, making it pleasant, leaving a final feeling of shared laughter and the lightness of connecting with someone again. Her chest was filling with a warmth different from that of the sun.