The last activity of the day was gathering vegetables. More specifically—pumpkins. This year, they had grown to truly unprecedented sizes, something that didn't go unnoticed by Esme, who gleefully discovered she could use the gourd-like vegetables as chairs.
The sun was sinking into the early evening haze above the salty waters surrounding the island, like a deep blue meadow rippling with grassy bands. It was peaceful. The only sound breaking the pre-dusk silence was the snipping of scissors, severing pumpkins from their thick, heavy stalks.
High up in the mountains, true, undisturbed silence reigned. The kind of silence a city dweller could never imagine. It spread in all directions and filled every corner and crevice. It was persistent, like a biting chill. Many might find it unsettling—but Mnou wasn't one of them. This silence was one of her favourite things about the island.
However, this time she wasn't granted the luxury of enjoying the moment. With mild horror, she realized that as long as Esme was nearby, she probably never would be again. Even after just one day spent together, it was clear the girl was one of those people who simply couldn't stay quiet for too long.
"Master?" the apprentice began. "How long have you lived here?"
The addressed woman sighed deeply, silently reminiscing about those undisturbed, meditative days when she didn't have to endure a constant stream of questions and comments. Even so, she answered.
"It must be three... no, four years. Professor Axel sent me here too," she added, thinking her new apprentice ought to know that.
"Why?"
"Weeell…" Mnou drew the word out, organizing her thoughts. It threw her off how difficult it was to answer. There was the option of a long, thorough explanation—or a short, inadequate one. She chose the latter, blaming laziness, though deep down she knew it was because she didn't know how to frame that long and sad story.
"I just didn't have a place in Ashkantt or Virsel anymore. It was my own fault... but it doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago." She didn't feel like explaining it more.
To her surprise, Esme didn't react strongly. She just nodded vaguely.
Then, curiosity stirred in Mnou. "And you?"
"I… I couldn't escape the past. Even though I really tried to escape from it. That's why I… I…" She couldn't finish the sentence. Suddenly, she became interested by her shabby boots, which had just moments ago been tapping rhythmically against the pumpkin she was sitting on. Now they were frozen, tense—and if one used a bit of imagination, perhaps even trembling nervously.
Mnou studied her closely and, in that moment, for the first time, believed what Professor Axel had written to her. She couldn't see Esme's face under the brim of her hat, but she could sense the fear and sorrow radiating from her. Suddenly, Mnou felt an inexplicable pang of guilt for making her recall painful moments.
It seemed to her that she understood the girl a little—or at least that shattered sliver of soul every mage carries deep inside. However different their personalities might be, this was something they shared. That thought struck her as oddly comforting, beautiful even.
"Ahem," the older witch cleared her throat. "Could you grab that pumpkin over there? It's time for dinner. How does pumpkin soup sound?"
Esme finally looked up at her and smiled. "That sounds great, Master!"
After enjoying the promised soup, they sat quietly at the round table for a while. Outside, darkness had already fully fallen.
The moon was cloaked in clouds, and neither its light nor the stars reached through to illuminate the hills or the distant sea.
Mnou had lit only a single candle, allowing the shadows to creep into her cottage. In the fireplace, embers still glowed faintly, barely casting light on the armchair that had stood before it for years. They drank chamomile tea. Mnou preferred it unsweetened, but Esme had dropped in several sugar cubes.
"So, how did you enjoy today?" the older witch asked, still secretly hoping she'd hear the blessed words that Esme would leave for Ashkantt the very next day after experiencing this dreadful country life. But she had a hunch it wouldn't happen.
"It was amazing!" the apprentice burst out cheerfully.
"I should warn you—this is what your days are going to look like from now on. Not exactly ideal for a city girl," she teased.
"You were a city girl too when you first came here, weren't you?" Esme replied boldly, clearly in a great mood. But she immediately regretted her impulsive words. An awkward silence followed.
Though it wasn't visible in the candlelight, the girl blushed deeply and whispered: "Sorry."
After a short pause, to Esme's surprise, the master responded. "Don't apologize—you're right. When I arrived here, I knew nothing about rural life. After all those years at the academy in Ashkantt, I'd gotten used to the comforts. But I got used to it pretty quickly."
"I… I'll get used to it too. I really like it here," the girl replied quickly, not wanting to repeat the awkward silence. That thick countryside silence could make such moments feel even worse.
"Anyway, tomorrow we're heading into town. I've stocked up enough potions and salves I want to sell. We'll leave at dawn, so no sleeping in."
"Aye aye!"
Despite the stern warning and Esme's enthusiastic reply, Mnou still had to wake her apprentice. When shouting didn't work, she was forced to rip away the thick quilt Esme was clinging to desperately. Miraculously, even with all the morning troubles, they managed to set out early.
The hills were still wrapped in nighttime chill, now reinforced by the returning fog that had taken a brief leave the day before. It twisted around their legs like a spinning wheel winding yarn.
Mnou had wrapped her goods in cloth and cast a levitation spell over them. The bundle floated behind them like a loyal puppy.
The walk was mostly quiet. Esme was still too sleepy to chatter or ask questions. However, she perked up when they passed some odd little mounds halfway along the path.
"Wow! What's that? Those don't look like ordinary hills," she mused aloud.
The master was surprised by her correct deduction. Maybe she's a lot smarter than she seems.
"That's right," she confirmed. "From what I've heard from the locals, they're probably burial mounds. Pretty massive ones too, likely for some chieftains long ago." She paused, then casually added, "I also heard they're haunted. Especially around this time of year, before the Iuvefalé celebration. Supposedly, it's crawling with ghosts!"
She glanced at the girl from the corner of her eye and was pleased to see her flinch slightly. But Esme quickly regained her composure. Instead of fear, she began eagerly speculating.
"Then there would have to be some evil sorcerer or necromancer! But no one's seen a necromancer in over eighty years, right?"
"Exactly," Mnou nodded, once again impressed by her young apprentice's knowledge. "I highly doubt one would show up in this backwater. And the ghost stories are just silly tales. I assume you figured that out already."
Mnou turned to leave but noticed Esme squatting in the tall grass, examining something. She joined her.
"What are you doing? We need to hurry—I want to get back home soon."
Esme didn't answer but instead asked, "What do you think this is?"
She pointed to a roughly carved elongated stone with a figure etched into it. It was hard to make out after so many years of weathering from rain and wind, but the shape of the figure could still be seen. It had the curves of a female body, arms outstretched—one palm facing upward, the other downward. The face was too worn to make out any details.
"Could be a statue of some deity," Mnou mused.
"Looks like it's been long forgotten."
"Most likely. Not that it matters. People created it and then forgot it. Seems fair to me."
"You don't believe in gods, Master?" Esme asked curiously.
"No, not at all. I don't believe in divine will, and the idea of some transcendent beings controlling us disgusts me. We're here on our own, and we answer for ourselves. Sure, life might be easier if I believed everything that's happened to me was part of some grand cosmic plan. But they were all my decisions—just mine. You just have to accept that."
"Or you could just believe in gods," Esme added dryly.
"Or that," Mnou replied wryly. "And you? Do you believe in gods?"
Esme stood up and brushed wet grass off her skirt. "No," she answered simply, and walked toward the levitating bundle waiting loyally by the path.
Mnou watched her for a moment, then followed. Strange girl, she thought. Sometimes she doesn't seem her age at all.