Being wide awake as I leave the house is terrifying. I have no idea what new weirdness I'm going to find out there. Doing it scares me more than fighting a Dákama. I have no memories of the moment they took me to the hospital, as I was practically dead. I also didn't realize when they brought me here. I was so weak that I could barely keep my eyes open. I've only seen bits and pieces of the outside through the windows.

Although I still haven't fully recovered my strength, at least today my brain is more lucid than ever before. After a couple of weeks of being at the lady's house, I function much better. I no longer fall asleep every two hours. Although I move at a slow and a little wobbly pace, I can walk alone. Moving without the help of the host fills me with pride. I hate being a burden.

When I finally cross the threshold of the door, my breath catches. My mouth and eyes open completely in perfect synchronicity. "This has to be a dream," I whisper, feeling my chest with my right hand. My heart beats at full speed. I even notice palpitations in my temples due to the rapid pulse. I take a deep breath to calm myself. I don't want to faint from shock.

There is no corner in Mánesvart that looks like this place. I have traveled through my lands from end to end and I have never seen anything like what I find here. I am standing in front of dozens of trees with yellow, orange and red leaves. Their colorful branches cover the slopes of enormous rocky mountains. At the top of the peaks, I see snow. I knew it was in a wooded area, but I never imagined this wonder. I would like to take a little piece of this place to the desert where I was born.

"It's a beautiful place, right? There is nothing like living in the country," says the lady, giving me a friendly wink.

"I love it," I reply, smiling.

"Ever since you learned to speak, you told me that you loved nature. That's why I have so much love for this town. Living here has always made you happy."

I purse my lips to contain the words that almost escaped me. 'That never happened, we don't know each other,' I think, convinced. But my own mind betrays me by showing me images of the two of us together. I see her holding me lovingly in her arms. I was still small enough for her to carry me. I smile from ear to ear and then kiss her cheek. She caresses my hair while whispering nice words in my ear, which makes me laugh.

Without being able to help it, I get a lump in my throat when I remember that particular scene. I perceive a tingling in various parts of my body, as if I were reliving the touch of the hug and caresses of the past. Why do those memories feel so real, so mine, and yet so foreign to me? I know very well what my mother is like and this lady is nothing like her. Despite this, immense tenderness squeezes my heart when I look at her. I do not understand why. There is no reason to love a stranger. This feeling seems to come from another person. It's like I'm taking over someone else's consciousness. How awful!

I rub my eyelids with my fists and slap my cheeks. I puff out my chest, exhaling slowly while looking at the mountains. I try to focus on the landscape to avoid thinking about my problems. I can't go to the psychologist's appointment in this dreamy condition. Although I still don't really understand what psychology is about, I try to convince myself that it will be something good for me. I like the lady more and more and I want to believe her when she says that I am going to get better.

The lady told me that this person is going to help me through several conversation sessions. She emphasized that I should strive to tell her everything I can by any means, whether speaking, writing, or drawing. Being honest with her is the only way she will be able to do her job well. Although I don't think I can tell what's happening to someone I don't trust, it reassures me that it's a woman who will handle my situation. She'll probably be able to understand me much better.

"The way to the office is not very long, but you should not try too hard if there is no need. We'll go by car, okay?"

My caregiver's kind voice brings me out of my musings. Hearing her question, I wrinkle my brow. I move my lips silently wondering what a car is. Before she can notice the confusion in my gestures, I see her walk towards some kind of metal cubicle with transparent windows. Below it, there are four metal wheels covered in a strange black coating. Judging from what the lady just mentioned, I conclude that it is a means of transportation. How crazy! In Mánesvart we don't need machines to get around. The Órnest descend from the clouds to help us when we cannot walk.

"Okay," I say, tense.

My voice is barely audible when I respond. I shift my weight from one foot to the other several times before deciding to move forward. I look down at the ground and mutter a brief plea to Gildestrale. I ask her not to leave me alone in this difficult mission. Everything I discover spits in my face that I don't belong here. I feel vulnerable and I need strength not to give up. No matter how terrible it is what is coming my way, I must move forward. Returning to my land and finding my family is the main objective I have. There is no room for doubt.

As soon as I get to the car, the woman opens a door and invites me in. With some difficulty, I lift one leg to give myself momentum and go up. The seat inside is firm but comfortable. Once I am settled, my companion closes the door from the outside. Then, she moves to the opposite side and enters through the door there. She stands next to me and smiles.

Right in front of her seat, there is a hoop-shaped piece that does not exist in front of mine. For the umpteenth time, I want to ask what that's for, but I hold back. I guess I'm about to find out. However, the woman does not touch it, but takes a band of cloth and stretches it over her. This goes from her right shoulder to her opposite side diagonally.

"Please put on your seat belt, Oli. You know very well that accidents happen at any time. Up to ten meters is enough for a tragedy, so no excuses. We won't start until you've put it on."

I bite my lower lip and look to my right. Right there, I find a metal piece just like the one she took a moment ago to pull the band. I start to pull it slowly and, to my bad luck, the fabric gets stuck. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, a sigh of defeat escapes me.

"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry! I didn't think about your hands, sorry!" the lady exclaims with anguish.

Within seconds, she leans toward me, extends an arm, and takes care of the task. When she pulls the band, it stretches without any problem, after which she fits the metal part into another piece that holds it in place. After understanding what the mistake I made was, I feel useless. The key was using speed and force when sliding the fabric. How stupid I was! The same thing won't happen to me next time.

Unexpectedly, this situation makes me want to cry. My desire is so strong that I can't control it. Why do I want to cry? There is no reason to do so. I swallow and look out the window to hide my teary eyes. Despite my speed of movement, this detail does not go unnoticed by my companion. She gently places a hand on my shoulder, so I turn my head in her direction. Our eyes meet.

"Never feel bad for not being able to do certain things yet, nor for asking for help. We have all needed it and will continue to need it many times. Besides, no one recovers overnight after going through something as difficult as what you went through, my love. Never be ashamed to ask me to help you, okay?"

I nod as I blink rapidly several times. My throat is closed due to an overflow of anxiety. I don't even understand why something so trivial affects me like this. Are these emotions really mine? I have never been a person who whines for no reason. I don't get upset easily. Why, then, do I react this way? I try to calm myself by breathing deeply, but the tightness in my chest won't go away. My mouth curves downward and I close my eyes. Tears flow without permission.

Witnessing my suffering, the lady stops touching my shoulder. She takes my left hand in hers and squeezes it tenderly. Just then, a strong wave of heat runs through me. I sense electricity moving through me, but it doesn't hurt me, quite the opposite. It's like I've received a jolt of energy that revitalizes me. The anguish disappears completely. Unfortunately, the feeling of well-being quickly fades.

"Ah!"

The woman lets out a high-pitched screech. She removes her hand from mine as if contact with me would burn her. She rolls her eyes, winces, and then goes still. My panicked screams get stuck in my neck. What happened!? What did I do!? I raise my palm to look at it and find that the red scar on it is emitting light. I shake my head and cover the mark with my other hand. I don't know what to do!

"Gildestrale, please guide me," I whisper with my eyes closed.

After a moment in silence, I spread my palms and open my eyes slowly. My heart races when I see that the glow is gone. With no more time to waste, I put my fingers closer to the lady's neck. I need to check if she's still alive. It is the first thing I did on the battlefield when helping fallen comrades. As soon as my fingers press on the carotid artery, the rhythmic movement of her heartbeat takes a weight off my shoulders. If she still has a pulse, there is hope.

"Oli, what's happening?"

The woman's weak and somewhat slowed voice takes me by surprise. I cover up my little involuntary jump with some fake coughing. That gives me time to think a little. After clearing my throat, I work to relax the muscles in my face. I don't want to look nervous when speaking.

"You took a nap," I say while smiling shyly.

"A nap?" she asks, furrowing her brow.

"You fell asleep suddenly."

"What? Oh no! Really?"

"Yeah."

"I need some coffee, then."

Immediately afterwards, the lady takes off her belt. She turns around and stretches to reach a metal cylinder that is in the back seats. When I open it, my nose recognizes the pleasant smell of the liquid inside. Trying the coffee for the first time a couple of days ago was an amazing experience. I wish there was something with a taste and aroma as delicious as this drink in Mánesvart.

While she drinks, I stay silent. I feel bad that I couldn't tell her what really happened, but what I told her isn't entirely a lie. Losing consciousness is similar to falling asleep. The problem is that, even if I described everything in great detail, I wouldn't be able to explain why it happened. It wasn't something I wanted to happen. The only certainty I have now is that I must cover the marks on my palms. Unexpected things happen when someone holds my hands. Until I know the whole truth about myself, I will do my best not to expose others to danger. Hurting others is the last thing I would want.