A Spark In The Shadow

CHAPTER - THREE

The shocking sight of the drained deer had shaken Duskiel, a cold, forgotten memory that made him tremble. He had run from what he saw, a strong, animal-like fear grabbing him. He rushed back to his hidden spot in the woods. He spent the rest of that night huddled, shivering, the strange feeling staying, sticking to the edges of his mind. But as the sun came up, painting the forest in warm, golden light, the uneasy feeling went away. The memories, whatever they were, went back into the blankness.

He told himself it was just a strange animal attack. He was human now. That was his truth.

Days later, a new normal started. Mrs. Gable, the kind old woman he'd helped with the water, found him by the village pump.

"You're a smart boy, young man," she said, her voice soft.

"Have you ever thought of learning more? The village school is open. Miss Anya is a wonderful teacher," she added with a smile on her face.

Duskiel, used to silence, found himself nodding. The idea of learning, of understanding the strange marks he saw on signs, the words people spoke, sparked a quiet interest within him. It felt like another step into this new, bright world.

The school building was a large, plain building of gray stone and dark wood. It stood in the middle of the village, surrounded by a small, grassy yard. Children, some older, some younger than Duskiel, gathered in small groups, their voices a happy chatter that filled the morning air. They carried worn cloth bags, sometimes with a book peeking out, sometimes with a shiny apple.

Duskiel felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. He had never been in such a place. His old world had no schools, no classrooms full of laughter. He pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The smell hit him first: chalk dust, old paper, and a faint, sweet smell like dried flowers. The room was bright, filled with sunlight from tall windows. Rows of wooden desks, scratched and worn, filled the space. Children sat at them, some already bent over thin sheets of paper, their pens scratching softly. Others whispered, nudged each other, or stared out the window.

At the front, by a large, black board covered in white writing, stood a tall woman with kind eyes and a neat bun of brown hair. This was Miss Anya, the teacher. Her voice was clear and steady, cutting through the low hum of the room, explaining something about numbers.

Mrs. Gable, who had brought him, gently led him to Miss Anya.

"This is the young man I told you about, Miss Anya, he's eager to learn," she said, her voice warm.

Miss Anya smiled, a gentle, welcoming smile that reached her eyes. She knelt down, bringing her face level with his.

"Welcome," she said, her voice soft.

"You can sit here." she pointed to an empty desk at the back of the room, near a window.

Sitting on the hard wooden seat felt strange. He didn't have books, or paper, or a pen. He just sat, his hands resting on the smooth wood, trying to understand what was happening. He watched Miss Anya write new marks on the blackboard.

"Today, we learn about numbers," she said.

"One plus one , equals two." she tapped the board with a long, thin stick. Duskiel frowned. Numbers. In his forgotten past, numbers were for counting power, or enemies. Not for small, white dots on a board. He watched a boy in front of him quickly write down the marks. It looked like magic. His head felt a dull ache. This was harder than hiding from shadows.

Later, Miss Anya read from a big, thick book. It was about far-off lands, tall mountains, and strange animals. The words were mixed up at first, but as Miss Anya read them slowly, pointing to each one, some started to make sense. He found himself liking the stories, the pictures. He imagined himself there, far from the uneasy feeling he'd felt by the dead deer, far from the empty spaces in his mind. Here, surrounded by the soft murmur of voices and the rustle of turning pages, those vague feelings felt further away, like old, faded maps.