The morning air was sharp and biting, laced with the scent of wet earth and melting frost. Arya stood at the edge of the wooden cabin's porch, watching mist curl around the treetops like the breath of ancient spirits. Isha zipped up her coat, stepping out beside her with sleepy eyes and a thermos of tea in her hand.
"You ready?" Arya asked, her voice soft but steady.
Isha nodded. "As ready as we can be for a bullock cart ride into the heart of nowhere."
They exchanged a quiet smile — both uncertain, both unspokenly aware that something had changed last night. The golden-eyed wolf hadn't harmed them. He had watched. Waited. Then turned and stared at a narrow, snow-covered path. They'd taken the hint. And it led them home.
And now, they were headed toward answers.
The staff boy from the cabin, Ratan, was already waiting with two village men and a wooden bullock cart. The animals stood patient, steam rising from their nostrils. Blankets had been spread across the wooden planks to keep the ride less miserable.
"This path goes into the deep range. There's no proper road — just memory and the stars," Ratan said, gesturing them to climb in.
The cart creaked as they settled in. The slow rhythm of hooves against the soil became hypnotic as they moved through forested valleys, leafless trees standing like sentinels from another time. Time stretched strangely here — the deeper they went, the less the modern world seemed to exist.
"Ratan," Arya asked, adjusting her scarf, "you said the couple we're meeting hasn't spoken to anyone in years?"
He gave a short nod. "People say they lost someone long ago… since then, they barely talk. But… when they saw you, it was different. That's why they agreed."
"Do they know about the wolf?" Isha asked, her tone cautious.
"They know more than anyone," Ratan said simply. "They don't talk about it. But they *feel* it."
It was late afternoon when they finally reached the village. No electricity. Smoke curled from mud chimneys. Kids with runny noses watched the cart from doorways, half curious, half wary.
Arya and Isha were taken to a small guest hut made of stone and clay. The bedding was simple, the silence heavier.
They rested briefly, gathering themselves. By twilight, Ratan came back to take them. "They're ready," he said.
The old couple lived in a slightly larger hut near a dried-out well. The door was carved with strange symbols — circles, stars, and wolves etched like forgotten warnings. Arya's heartbeat quickened.
Inside, the room was dark except for a single oil lamp. The old man sat cross-legged, his eyes milky but aware. The woman stirred something in a pot, humming a tune that sounded like a lullaby and a curse in one breath.
As Arya and Isha stepped in, the old man raised his head.
"So… the girl of echoes arrives," he said.
Isha froze.
Arya stepped forward. "You know me?"
The old woman turned. Her eyes were sharp, scanning Arya's face. "We knew you… when you didn't wear that name."
The silence cracked like ice underfoot.
"I think we're here to understand something," Arya said, voice trembling. "Visions. A wolf. A life I can't remember fully. But I feel it."
"You feel the past because it still lingers on your soul," the old man said. "You walked this land before — loved it, cursed it, died for it."
"You mean…" Isha leaned in, "reincarnation?"
The woman nodded slowly. "The one with golden eyes… he remembers everything. He was cursed not to forget."
Arya sat down on the floor. "And you know him?"
The woman stirred her pot. "Everyone fears him. They say he is a monster. But they don't know. We saw what happened — when men betrayed their own blood, and the curse of nature answered."
"Then why does everyone hate him?" Isha asked.
"Because city people," the old woman said, "fear what they do not understand. And stories… get twisted."
Outside, wind howled through the trees, as if stirred by the truth now surfacing. The old man opened a rusted tin box and took out a faded photograph — a black-and-white image of a younger him and his wife standing beside someone Arya almost couldn't recognize.
A man with golden eyes.
"You knew him?" Arya whispered.
"He was our friend," the old man said. "And her lover, in another time."
Arya's breath caught.
"People betrayed them both," the woman added. "They tried to escape… but nature doesn't let curses dissolve easily."
Isha reached into her coat and took out her phone. "We just got the tape back — 80% data recovered. Images, raw footage. It might show something."
The old woman nodded. "Then let it show what people forgot. The wolf was not the villain. The people were."
Arya stared into the firelight, her mind spinning. "Why me? Why again?"
"Because some souls," the old man said, "are tied by fate. You and he… are not done yet."
That night, Arya and Isha sat beneath the starlit sky, the old couple's words echoing in the dark. The village was asleep, but Arya felt the land breathing. Heavy. Old. Remembering.
"Isha," Arya whispered, "this isn't just a past life thing. It's more. Something unfinished."
"I know," Isha said. "And tomorrow, we'll learn how deep it goes."