“This is all your fault!” The man in the lab coat shouted, his dark eyes glaring at me with an intensity that made my blood run cold. I stumbled back, disoriented, finding myself again in a large lab room that was in complete disarray. The lights overhead flickered dimly, and I noticed panels from the ceiling missing while others hung precariously, threatening to fall at any moment. Computer screens were cracked and broken, chairs were strewn about, and small fires smoldered nearby, filling the air with smoke that stung my eyes. I could also hear the siren of an alarm sounding off in the distance, adding to the chaos.

“Dad, what happened?” I asked, my voice sounded much younger than I anticipated. The man in the lab coat didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt beside the bloodied body of a woman, cradling her form in his arms as he sobbed.

“Dad?” I tried again, stepping closer.

“Stay away!” he yelled, pushing me back with a force that made my heart ache.

I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest as I scanned the quaint room around me. My eyes landed on a small boy sleeping peacefully on the bed beside mine, and I slowly remembered where I was. 

As I stared into the fading dark of twilight, I couldn’t shake the vividness of the nightmare, but as I lay there, the more I tried to hold on to the dream, the faster it seemed to disappear.

Once the dream had become muddled in my mind, I forced myself to focus on my memories, sifting through every detail I could recall from my life. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that I wasn’t suffering from amnesia. I remembered most of my life, yet everything about the day I fell through space and time, landing in this unfamiliar world, remained a blur.

The young girl next to me suddenly awoke and quickly hopped off the bed. Her steps were light and purposeful as she made her way over to where the small boy still slept peacefully. She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and shook him vigorously, but to my amazement, he remained lost in his dreams. Undeterred, the girl leaned in close and shouted into his ear.

“Cyril!” The name echoed in the small room, breaking the morning stillness. The boy scrunched his face and swatted at his ear as if trying to brush away an annoying insect. Climbing onto the bed, the girl positioned her hands beneath him and, with a deep breath, lifted and shoved him off the bed, sending him tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

The boy sprang to his feet, his face twisted in boyish indignation. He lunged at the bed, but the girl was too quick, hopping away while laughing, which only seemed to fuel his frustration. Watching their playful squabble, I couldn’t help but smile at their sibling antics.

“Cyril?” I called out suddenly, my voice tinged with curiosity. The boy froze, turning to me with wide, shocked eyes. I pointed at him, repeating his name. He pointed at himself in response, nodding vigorously as he echoed his name with a slight lisp.

The young girl gracefully landed beside Cyril, her tiny index finger proudly tapping against her chest. “Adelia,” she declared, jabbing her chest with more emphasis. 

I mirrored their gestures, pointing to myself while announcing my name, "Samara."

Adelia quickly repeated my name while Cyril struggled with the pronunciation. “Thamara?” he ventured hesitantly, the glint of realization in his eyes suggesting he knew he’d mispronounced it. I couldn’t help but smile, the corners of my mouth twitching as I tried to suppress the urge to coo at the boy’s endearing lisp.

I gently pointed to myself again, offering a simplified version of my name, “Mara.” Adelia caught on instantly. She turned to Cyril and exchanged a few words before he faced me again, a small smile playing on his lips as he successfully said, “Mara.”

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted our exchange, and as the door swung open, I recognized the man from the previous night’s dinner table. Adelia rushed toward him, wrapping her tiny arms around him warmly. With a proud gesture, she introduced me, referring to me as “Mara.” The older man nodded in understanding, making eye contact with me as he pointed to himself and introduced himself as “Tomlin.”

Tomlin addressed the children, his voice firm yet gentle as he gave them instructions. With a final nod in my direction, he left the room, leaving us to our morning routines.

Dressed and ready, we made our way to the kitchen. When we entered, I encountered a familiar sight: the woman from the previous night. Draped against her back, secured in a beautifully woven carrier, was a slumbering toddler. Catching sight of me, the woman’s lips curled into a soft, inviting smile.

Adelia wasted no time with introductions. She pointed to the woman, “Ada,” and then to the small child on her back, “Finn.” I repeated the names, confirming my understanding.

Is she the housekeeper? I wondered as I sat at the table and surveyed the modest dwelling while the others served their breakfast and took their seats. As soon as the meal was finished, they rose to clear the table, each knowing their role in this well-practiced routine.

Tomlin was the first to make his exit. He embraced each child in a warm hug and planted a small kiss on their foreheads. As soon as Tomlin was a speck in the distance, Cyril hurriedly shoved his feet into his shoes and dashed out of the house.

With a swift motion, Adelia grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the room. She retrieved an apron and an outer garment, which bore a striking resemblance to the attire I’d seen on the other women in town. I began to remove my dress, but Adelia shook her head, miming that I should layer the new clothing over my existing outfit. My eyes widened in disbelief as I slipped into the additional layers, immediately feeling the weight of the extra fabric as it clung to my skin.

Adelia then nudged me toward the small table against the wall, and with a brush in hand, she set to work on taming my mane of hair. Her tiny fingers struggled to manage the thick, abundant locks. Overwhelmed by the sheer amount of hair, Adelia ditched the idea of a bun and split the hair down the middle, weaving it into two braids, which she then crossed at the back and secured at the front around my temples. The pins poked at the slight graze hidden beneath the mass of hair, causing me to wince.

Adelia stared at me in contemplation when her eyes lit up with inspiration. She dashed to her trunk, her tiny body disappearing halfway inside as she rummaged around. Triumphantly, she retrieved a long sapphire blue ribbon and hurried back to me. She carefully wrapped the ribbon around my head, concealing the unruly lumps of hair.

The front door opened to reveal Cyril; his once-pristine trousers now displayed dark streaks of dirt on his knees and palms, all evidence of a fall or tussle. Most telling, however, was the trail of dampness on his cheek, remnants of tears hastily wiped away. Having pieced together the story from Cyril’s state, Adelia’s face hardened with determination. Striding purposefully, she exited the house, ready to right whatever wrongs had befallen her younger brother.

I stared after Adelia as she strode directly up to the group of boys from earlier, confused and a bit worried about what the young girl was planning. I turned to look at Cyril and was surprised to see that he didn’t share in my worry. Instead, he watched after his sister with admiration. Wordlessly, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward Adelia.

Adelia shouted at a boy who looked to be her exact age. The words were lost to me, yet the message was as clear as daylight—she was defending her brother with every ounce of her being. But the scene swiftly shifted, the air turning heavy as the boy retaliated, pushing Adelia with a force that belied his size. My protective instincts flared to life, but I stopped myself as Adelia quickly stood up. She marched back up to the boy, her fist connecting with his face in a swift, unyielding motion. The boy’s hands flew to his face, tears pooling in his eyes, as the adults around them merely shook their heads, their expressions laced with an expectation of certainty.

As Adelia’s hand rose again, a storm brewing in her fierce eyes, I knew I had to intervene. I reached out, resting my hand gently on Adelia’s shoulder. The young girl turned, and I shook my head slightly, my eyes conveying a message clear as day—one punch was enough.

Adelia’s hand lowered slowly, her energy shifting as she feinted at the boy, sending him stumbling back in fear and earning laughter from the crowd of children. The boy glared at Adelia before turning heel and fleeing the scene.

Ada emerged from the crowd of onlooking adults, her face etched with disappointment and concern. She strode over to Adelia, her hand reaching out to tug at her ear, leading her back toward the house with a stream of words that I could only assume were reprimands. Despite her ear reddening under Ada’s firm grip, Adelia bore the pain without shedding a tear.

Once inside the home, Ada gracefully untied the intricate baby sling, cradling the sleeping Finn, and delicately placed him into my hesitant embrace. As I remained entranced by Finn, the others walked into the children’s bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Ada’s stern voice echoed through the walls; her tone was sharp and reprimanding, resonating through the house and causing me to flinch involuntarily. Even though the words were unfamiliar, the tone spoke a universal language. Memories flooded back to me, echoes of my childhood transgressions and the resulting stern lectures from my mother or grandmother, their disappointment palpable in every word.

The house soon fell into a peaceful silence, only to be broken by the creaking of the bedroom door as Ada reemerged. She took Finn from my arms, offering a warm, albeit fleeting, smile before departing. I was left standing alone. I waited by the kitchen, but the children remained hidden within the confines of the bedroom.

Driven by concern and curiosity, I tiptoed toward the slightly ajar bedroom door. Adelia was lying face down on the bed, her dress bunched up to reveal two angry, red welts on her small calves. Her body trembled with silent sobs, her face buried in the sanctuary of the sheets. Cyril sat beside her, his hand gently caressing her back in a futile attempt to soothe her pain.

Moved by a newfound determination, I ventured into the kitchen, my eyes scanning the unfamiliar territory in search of anything that might alleviate Adelia’s pain. Ultimately, I settled on a simple cloth and cool water drawn from a large jug in the corner of the room.

With my makeshift remedy in hand, I returned to the bedroom, my approach soft and unintrusive. I knelt beside the bed, dampening the cloth in the water before gently placing it on Adelia’s inflamed skin. The young girl, startled by the unexpected contact, lifted her tear-streaked face to meet my eyes.

Adelia wiped away her tears and exchanged hushed words with Cyril, who promptly hopped off the bed and hurried into the adjacent room. The sounds of his tiny feet and rustling drawers filled the air before he finally returned, clutching a small black tin jar in his little hands. Inside was a gelatinous white substance, its aroma a delicate blend of roses and something distinctly herbal and medicinal. With gentle and practiced ease, Cyril dipped his fingers into the balm, scooping up a generous amount before tenderly applying it to Adelia’s right calf. I followed suit, my fingers delicately skimming the surface of the remedy before spreading it across the young girl’s left leg.

The gel absorbed quickly into Adelia’s skin, leaving a faint sheen in its wake. No sooner had the balm done its work than Adelia sprang from the bed, her tiny arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace of gratitude. I was caught slightly off guard but returned the hug warmly; Cyril, not to be left out, quickly joined in, transforming the moment into a group embrace.

During our shared moment, the front door swung open, its creaking hinges slicing through the air. Turning in unison, we found Tomlin standing at the threshold, his face flushed from labor in the fields, though I suspected the deep hue was also tinged with anger. My suspicions were confirmed as Tomlin fixed Adelia with a pointed look, unleashing a torrent of loud, foreign words in a tone that brooked no argument. Adelia, her head bowed under the weight of her father’s reprimand, stood still, absorbing the scolding.

The little girl nodded in understanding, her demeanor submissive. Tomlin then gently lifted the hem of her dress, inspecting the red welts on her calves. A deep sigh escaped him, and he muttered a single word, “Ada,” before enveloping Adelia in a tender hug and kissing her forehead.

He ushered the children out of the house, leaving me with little choice but to follow, unsure of my place if left alone. We navigated through the fields, the children deftly weaving through the townsfolk and tools. I tried to keep up but kept tripping over tools and bumping into the working folk.

Finally catching up with the trio, I arrived at a grove of lush green trees, each branch heavy with the bright red fruit I had tasted the day before. Baskets filled to the brim with the harvest sat ready. The children, each taking an end of a basket, made their way to a nearby table laden with tools of the trade. Together, they began the meticulous task of inspecting and cleaning the fruit.

Observing their actions, I thought the task appeared straightforward enough. I picked up a basket and set to work. As the minutes ticked by, I realized that while the task was not inherently problematic, it was tediously monotonous, made all the more unbearable by the sun’s relentless heat. I cast a sidelong glance at the children, who seemed untroubled by the sweltering conditions, their tiny hands moving with a swift efficiency.

Lifting my gaze in search of any hint of cloud cover, my eyes met only an expanse of unending blue. Then, I noticed a tiny black speck against the sky, its form becoming more apparent as it drew closer. “A raven?” I questioned silently, my attention fully captured by the solitary bird in flight.

The sudden intrusion of a voice, a whisper from the past, pulled my focus away. Will you keep this always? The world around me seemed to blur, my stability wavering. Promise you’ll always wear it? The voice implored again, intensifying the vertigo.

“Mara?” Adelia’s voice, laced with concern, reached my ears just as the ground rushed up to meet me, and my world faded to black.