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She peaked out from behind the tree to where the stranger was stirring. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the woods; the collectors at least had been too afraid to follow.
“Hello?” Kosika called out cautiously.
He moved slowly with stiff limbs, as if coming out of a deep sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had the privilege of such a rest.
He didn’t look injured, no sign of anything bloody or broken. He didn’t seem that old either, aside from the white hair, just tired and quiet. No runes on what skin was visible.
“It’s alright.” His voice was raspy but he managed to make the words soft. “I won’t hurt you.”
She wanted to believe him. She couldn’t go back to the city yet, not with the collectors hunting for her.
There was a weapon a mere foot away from him, some kind of short curved sword, but he made no attempt to reach for it. His hands rested on his lap.
Kosika made her gamble. She approached carefully, stopping to lean against a tree across from his position and still outside grabbing distance. Just in case.
“What’s your name?”
He seemed vaguely familiar, like someone she had seen from a distance a few times. Not from her neighborhood surely; his clothes were far too fine for that, not the kind of material one sat on cold dirt with. If anything, he looked more like a potential mark, someone to steal from.
Something that sounded rather appealing at that moment, she thought as she looked at his thick half-cloak with envious appreciation. Though not as harsh as some days, the chilly air seeped through her simple clothes.
“Kosika,” she admitted after a moment.
“Kosika,” he repeated, something in his voice she couldn’t parse. He stared at her face but she couldn’t imagine what he was looking for. “That… that is a lovely name.”
She shrugged. She didn’t know what was so lovely about sharing a name with the Kosik of all places but it would be needlessly rude to insult him over it, not when he was trying to be friendly.
“And your parents?”
“Mother tried to sell me to collectors,” she tried to say casually but the waver in her voice betrayed her. That woman hadn’t been loving in years but she had been familiar; Kosika had imagined a line between apathy and cruelty. There had never been mention of a father.
“Did she now?” There was the slightest edge to his voice.
That was a good sign, she decided as she fidgeted with a sugar cube in her pocket. Any man upset about the selling of children or the betrayal of kin, she couldn’t be sure which it was, was more likely to help her and Lark.
“Why are you in the woods?” Kosika asked. At least she’d been running from danger; why would anyone else want to sleep among these dead trees?
“I was trying to go home,” he said. Then quieter, half to himself, “I didn’t expect to wake up.”
Kosika was about to ask what those things had to do with each other when he adjusted his position, sitting up a little with one leg drawing up as if about to stand. The movement revealed what she hadn’t noticed before.
Green shoots of grass. Something living, something growing in this place that had been dead for lifetimes. She could only stare in wonder.
Then, the heavy steps of boots on earth, metal plates shifting together.
“Wait-“
Kosika was already running, wind sharp against her cheeks. Only when she was halfway up a tree a safe distance away did she look back.
A group of armored guards, just as she had feared. She tensed, expecting the drawing of swords or hands dragging the man to his feet. She expected brutality because that was all castle guards knew how to do.
But that didn’t happen. Instead they spoke quietly to him, too far away for her to make out the words. When he was pulled to his feet, it was done with care, the kind reserved for something too valuable to risk damaging. He glanced in the direction she had run but didn't call out.
Kosika watched until they were out of sight, mulling over the strange situation. She hoped they weren’t going to kill him anyways. He had seemed nice.