Her hand finds Ilinca’s shoulder and draws the child closer. "I have her," she says. "She has me."
Ilinca looks up at me. Her eyes are clearer now, watchful but calm.
I hesitate. Every instinct in me resists turning away, leaving her here damp and shivering in the fading light.
But Neaga’s gaze does not waver.
"Go," she insists.
I nod at last.
My fingers close around her hand, squeezing once before I let go.
Then I step away. The yard is nearly empty now. The last few villagers are already halfway down the path. I search for Mama’s familiar figure, for Elena’s pale hair among the retreating shapes.
They are already gone. They did not wait for me.
A strange twist tightens low in my chest, not deep enough to wound, but present all the same.
The last of the light bleeds from the sky as I walk home alone, the damp scent of mud and extinguished fire clinging to the air behind me. By the time I reach our door, the sun is nearly gone. I lift the latch and slip inside, closing it behind me with more force than I intend.
The slap lands before I can draw breath.
It cracks across my cheek, bright and blinding. My head snaps to the side. I gasp, hand flying to my cheek, heat blooming beneath my skin.
"Mama—"
Another strike. Then another.
Her palm connects with my face, my shoulder, the side of my head. Not wild—precise. Furious.
I stagger back against the table, raising my arms to shield myself. "Mama, what—what have I done?"
She is shaking. Not just with anger—something deeper, frayed and raw. Her eyes are bright and wet, her breath coming too fast.
"You lied," she spits. "In front of everyone."
The word hits harder than her hand.
"You lied before the priest."
Her fingers seize my sleeve, pulling me forward again. "What were you thinking?" she demands, her voice cracking into hysteria. "Preaching in his place. Deciding who is worthy. Do you understand what you have done?"
"I—I only wanted to help," I stammer. "They were going to hurt her. I didn’t mean—"
"You did not mean?" she echoes, incredulous. "You humiliated us."
Her grip tightens. "You humiliated him."
The weight of that lands somewhere deep and cold.
"I know you lied," she continues, her voice lowering, trembling now with something like fear. "Neaga did not confide in you. I saw your face. You thought of it in that moment."
I open my mouth, but no words come fast enough to defend myself.
"I only wanted to stop them," I manage at last. "I didn’t mean to dishonour anyone."
Mama shakes her head, as though I have said something childish and foolish. "You do not understand what you risk," she says, her voice cracking again. "You think kindness protects you. It does not."
