William remained on his knees long after the echoes of battle had faded and the forest had returned to its uneasy calm. His palms were pressed into the damp soil, his fingers half-numb, half-aching, as though they no longer belonged to him. Every breath scraped against bruised ribs, and every movement reminded him of how close he had come to dying. He felt hollowed out, emptied by fear and grief and exhaustion, and for a long while he could do nothing but stare at the ground and remind himself, again and again, that he was still alive.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
The man who had saved him stood several paces away, leaning lightly on his carved staff. He did not look tense or guarded. If anything, he seemed quietly at ease, as though standing beside the corpse-stained riverbank and the torn earth was nothing out of the ordinary. His dark eyes studied William with calm curiosity, taking in his torn clothes, his trembling hands, and the raw terror still etched across his face.
William swallowed hard.
"I… I'm not dangerous," he said weakly, his voice cracking. "I don't know how I got here. I didn't mean to be here. I just… I just woke up."
The man answered in a flowing stream of unfamiliar words, his voice gentle and rhythmic, like water over smooth stones.
William shook his head helplessly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't understand you. I don't know what you're saying."
The man fell silent and regarded him thoughtfully, as though weighing something in his mind. After a moment, he reached slowly toward the side of his hide belt.
William tensed instantly.
Every muscle in his body tightened as panic surged through him. He scrambled backward a step, heart hammering, half-expecting another weapon to appear in the man's hand.
Instead, he produced a small leather flagon, darkened with age and softened by years of use. He uncorked it and set it gently on the ground between them. Then he reached into a pouch and drew out a small bundle wrapped in broad green leaves, placing it beside the flagon with equal care.
He straightened and gestured.
First, he pointed at the bundle.
Then at his mouth.
Then he mimed chewing.
Next, he pointed at the flagon and tilted his head back in an exaggerated motion of drinking.
William stared at the display, confused and wary.
"You… want me to eat that?" he asked uncertainly. "And then drink?"
The man nodded, his expression encouraging.
William hesitated.
He had learned, in the space of a single day, that strange places were dangerous places. Everything around him was unfamiliar. The forest, the animals, the people—none of it made sense. And now he was being asked to eat something that had been wrapped in leaves and carried in a pouch.
Still, the man had saved his life.
That fact weighed heavily in his mind.
Slowly, reluctantly, William reached forward and picked up the bundle.
It was warm.
Slightly damp.
And unmistakably moving.
He froze.
"…It moved," he whispered.
The man smiled faintly and gestured again.
Eat.
Drink.
Trust.
William grimaced. "I don't like this," he muttered. "I really don't like this."
He closed his eyes, drew in a shaky breath, and unwrapped the leaves.
Inside lay a pale, glossy thing, thin and coiled like a ribbon of living flesh. It twitched faintly in his hand.
"Oh no," William murmured. "No, no, no. This is a terrible idea."
The man raised his brows, clearly amused.
With a groan of resignation, William lifted the creature to his mouth and bit down.
It burst instantly.
A strange, syrupy liquid flooded his tongue, tasting faintly of honey, rainwater, and something sharp and metallic. For a split second, he almost thought it wasn't so bad.
Then something moved.
It slipped past his teeth.
Slid down his throat.
And kept going.
William screamed.
He dropped the bundle and grabbed the flagon in blind panic, gulping water as fast as he could. It spilled down his chin and soaked his collar, but he barely noticed. The sensation only intensified, writhing behind his nose, creeping into his ears, crawling through his head like icy fingers.
He staggered forward and retched violently.
Water and bile splashed onto the forest floor as he vomited again and again, coughing and gasping for air. His eyes burned with tears, and his hands clawed weakly at his hair as though he could somehow drag the thing back out.
Behind him, the man laughed.
It was a full, rolling sound, rich with genuine amusement.
William spun around, fury flaring through his terror.
"You think that's funny?" he shouted hoarsely. "You put something in my head! I nearly—"
He stopped.
Mid-sentence.
Because he understood himself.
And he understood the laughter.
And he understood the man.
The words no longer sounded strange. They no longer slipped past his mind like water through his fingers. They made sense—clear and sharp and unmistakable.
He stared.
"You… I can understand you," he whispered.
"Yes," the man replied calmly. "That was the idea."
William's mouth fell open.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded. "Was that… was that some kind of worm?"
"Parasite," the man corrected gently. "Small one."
"You fed me a parasite," William said incredulously.
"Yes."
"In my brain."
"Yes."
"You didn't think to warn me?"
The man considered this. "You would not have eaten it."
William opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again.
"…Probably not," he admitted.
The man smiled. "My name is Marrang," he said. "And it will not hurt you. It eats only the barriers between languages. Nothing more."
William rubbed his temples, still feeling faint echoes of movement behind his eyes. "How long does it stay?" he asked nervously.
"Some weeks. Maybe months," Marrang replied. "Then it leaves."
"Leaves… how?"
Marrang shrugged. "Naturally."
William decided not to ask.
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him. The forest seemed different now—less threatening, but more mysterious than ever. Somewhere in the distance, birds called, unaware of how close he had come to dying.
"My name is William," he said quietly at last.
"I know," Marrang replied, his voice soft. "The land whispered it."
William frowned. "The… land?"
Marrang only smiled.
And for the first time since he had been torn from everything he loved, William felt something fragile and unfamiliar settle in his chest.
A sense that, perhaps, he was no longer completely alone.