Ma'an gladly ate the food and had a warm drink before going to bed. 

Lost in his thoughts, he forgot his belongings. His backpack stayed by the couch. 

Yorell wanted to look at the stranger's things, but understood they may be enchanted and would do better untouched. 

He did not understand much of Ma'an's words about Order and stars. He was still in awe at the fact that he knew this strange tongue, yet he could not speak it. 

He decided to wash the clothes so they could dry while he slept. 

・・・

When he awoke, the young man was still sound asleep. His healing required much rest. 

Yorell felt somewhat uneasy with such a mysterious figure in his home, but trusted his eyes. 

Ma'an had a kind gaze. Kind, but lost. A mighty wizard fallen from grace, or so it seemed to him.

・・・

Yorell was cooking breakfast when Ma'an came downstairs and hesitantly peeked around the doorpost of the kitchen.

'Good morning,' Yorell welcomed him with a smile.

'... Good morning,' Ma'an replied, but he would not enter. 

He was afraid, even though he did not need to be. He was powerful, more powerful than Yorell could imagine.

'Are you okay?' the Dokian asked. 

Ma'an nodded slowly. 

He was still weak but felt a lot better than the day before. His body was warm again.

'Good. Come, I made breakfast for you.' Yorell took a skillet off the stove and went to the living room, followed by Ma'an. 

On the low table by the couch stood several bowls filled with seasoned flatbread, strange fruits, and pastries he did not recognise. 

There was a pitcher with a dark purple beverage, and in the skillet that he put on a coaster, he saw fried seaweed and green beans.

'Sit down, take all you need,' Yorell said, and he gave him a bowl and a glass. 

Ma'an examined the ceramics as if he'd never seen such a thing before. 

After hesitating, he took a seat and tried some bread. 

Despite the drastic difference between this house and where he came from, he felt a sense of familiarity. This was the first time in years that he had been truly sheltered from the wild outside. 

He ate little, but well. It was refreshing to have a warm meal again. 

Yorell had breakfast too, and when both had finished, he took a book from one of the bookshelves. 

He searched for a certain page and then gave it to Ma'an, who held it on his lap. 

On the page, he saw a drawn map, quite old, seeing the paper. 

It depicted the land of Doku and the surrounding lands. Ma'an wasn't too familiar with them but knew their approximate location relative to western Peijh.

'Where did you come from?' Yorell asked.

Ma'an scanned the whole map, trying to see if there was anything he could recognise. 

There was the east coast of Miranitia, with Doku taking up a big part of it. The west coast was there, but it seemed less detailed. All countries had names, but he could not read them.

'I am now here, correct?' Ma'an said softly as his fingertip made small circles around the east coast, slightly inland.

'Yes, you are here,' Yorell pointed at a specific place, right across the southern border of Doku. 

They were in the southwestern forest of Doku, a lighter part of the great Kahaylt forest. East of them were the marshes, the heathlands, and then the coast, then endless ocean.

‘Kitu Tarhayn, it is called. A small forest town. Do you know where your home is?'

'Home...' Ma'an mumbled. 

He placed the book on Yorell’s lap and he stood up, looking around for his backpack. 

He took out his own book and started turning pages. 

He sat by Yorell again and showed him his map, one he'd taken from the city he had studied in. 

The continents Peijh, Miranitia, and a part of Katanna – which lay south of Miranitia – were depicted. 

Maps of the final continent Manta were hard to come by. 

Ma'an compared the two maps for a second before pointing to his own map. 'Here is Kitu Tarhayn.' 

Yorell became silent at seeing his country so small. 

Little people in Miranitia knew about Peijh, especially in the east. 

Ma'an's finger moved to the west, across the ocean, across the Punt peninsula, across the great Bay of Peijh, all the way to southwestern Peijh. The far south of the land of Timea, within the first bend of the Purple Peaks mountain range.

'My homeland is called Timea now, but it used to have a different name. I have not been there in a long time,' Ma'an spoke calmly.

'Ma'an... that's... What is that land? How did you get so far from home? What brings you here?' Yorell said, staring at the map.

'Are you not familiar with Peijh?'

'Peijh...? No, we do not know about overseas lands. They are too far away. The seas are too dangerous, and crossing the freezing desert eastward is terribly difficult. That's why I'm puzzled as to how you got here. Please tell me your story.'

'It is a long story.'

'I have time.'

Ma’an sighed. He was too tired to dig into what lay behind him, and Yorell knew, but the Dokian yearned to know who he had led into his home, as he was usually hesitant to allow anyone nearby.

‘I found myself lost, far from home, about four years ago. I had no way to find my home, so I decided to walk in a random direction. That turned out to be the east, and so I came to the end of Peijh, and I crossed the ocean to Miranitia. Initially I wanted to turn north, but I came into strange lands. I thus decided to cross the mountains in hopes of finding a kinder land. And I did. Now I’m going north once more.’ 

Both men stared at the maps on their laps.

‘You… you crossed the mountains? Where are you going now? Why are you going north?' Yorell asked in disbelief. 

Ma'an still did not quite know what he was saying, but he could catch a few words and assumed most meanings. 

This sentence, however, he could not make out. 

Yorell noticed. 

'Where... what is your goal, now?' he spoke slowly and pointed vaguely at the map.

'I will go to the North Pole,' Ma'an said. 

Yorell was taken aback, both by what he said and the beautiful word for North Pole he used.

'The North Pole? Why? And how?'

'There is... land... on the other side of the world. Manta, it is called, and the North Pole is the safest way there.'

'Manta, I have heard of a land with that name in some story...' Yorell mumbled to himself. 'Well, your goals are not my business, so I will not meddle in them, though I will say the north is perilous. None have made it through in the past hundred or so years if any have at all. Still, you are a strange man. Perhaps you have your ways. Strengthen here, I beg you, before you continue your journey.' 

In the silence that followed, Yorell realised little of what he had said had meaning for Ma'an. 

He chuckled, then said, 'Heal, before you go.' 

Ma'an gave a single nod. 

Few words were spoken thereafter. 

Things seemed to settle quite quickly between the two, and before long Ma'an was helping Yorell around the house. 

After a week or so, Ma'an had a lot of his strength back and had started planning his next steps. 

Yorell's maps of Doku and the Near North helped a lot, but most stopped at the borders of something called Waai. 

Only one did not, but Yorell said it was outdated to the point of being useless nowadays. 

・・・

In the coming days, Yorell trusted Ma'an quickly; the opposite took longer. 

When he went to work in town, he entrusted Ma'an with the house. The Peijhan spent the week washing and repairing his clothes, restocking his supplies, and tending his wounds, all while striving to use as little of Yorell's resources as possible. 

Yorell assured him it was okay, and he did not expect anything in return, but Ma'an disagreed. 

Yorell left the house often, Ma’an did not know where to, but he stayed inside where it was warm. 

The Dokian would come home with food or other supplies, or empty-handed. 

Ma’an was given a table where he wrote and made notes on his maps, sometimes altering or expanding them. 

When Yorell was home, flute music could occasionally be heard throughout the house, which brought Ma’an a certain peace. And sometimes, Yorell sat by the hearth, quietly sewing clothing. 

Yet this house was no haven. 

He sensed disquiet in the building and in Yorell. His actions were often quick and calculated as if his head were somewhere else entirely. 

Whether that was in the past or future, Ma’an did not know.