When Adolf's eyelids opened to a dim light filtering through a slanted wooden ceiling, he didn't immediately recognize what he was looking at. The place was unfamiliar. The roof was low, and there was a warm, woody scent in the air.A cottage?
He sat up abruptly, startled as if waking from a dream interrupted too soon.A cottage?! No, impossible. His last memory was of leaving the cave—his heavy steps, the cold ground beneath his feet.Who brought me here? He couldn't recall.
His hand reached up to his head—no wounds, no bandages, no sign of violence. Just a hollow mind, and the noise of questions without answers.
He was dressed in clean clothes—soft fabric unfamiliar to his touch, as if his body had been changed without his permission.
He stood slowly. The wooden floor creaked beneath him. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped into a narrow hallway. Outside, the light was pure, the air filled with the scent of nature. Not many sounds—just the distant croak of a bird and... light footsteps.
There, standing in the yard, was a little girl—no more than ten years old. She stared at him with wide eyes, filled with a strange mixture of wonder and fear. Then, without a word, she turned and ran.
Adlof stood still, frozen, trying to understand.Where was he?Who were these people?
He moved cautiously into the cottage, his eyes scanning every detail: wooden frames on the walls, simple rugs, the faint smell of something cooking.
He found himself entering what looked like a small kitchen. A pot simmered over a stone stove. Herbs hung from the ceiling.
There stood a woman, seemingly in her thirties, with silky brown hair falling over her shoulders, her skin so pale it almost glowed.
When she noticed him, she smiled and said in a gentle voice,"Oh... You're awake."
He didn't answer. He looked at her as if she were a ghost.In a hesitant tone, he asked,"Who... who are you?"
She didn't respond immediately. She simply wiped her hands with a cotton cloth and said,"One moment," then left to call someone.
She returned with a man in his thirties, tall and confident, with thick black hair and a fair, wheat-toned complexion. He walked in with the ease of someone who belonged.
He smiled and said,"Well, hello there, young man. What's your name?"
He answered without thinking:"Adlof."
"Adlof? Nice name... How old are you?"
Silence. Adolf looked down. His mind was blank. Time didn't seem to apply to him.
"I don't know..." he whispered.
The man and woman exchanged a quiet glance. The man continued, unfazed,"No problem. You seem to be in your teens at least. Do you remember where you're from?"
Adlof turned his head slowly, eyes filled with confusion."No..."
The man sighed, as if the answer didn't surprise him. He stepped closer, resting a hand on Adolf's shoulder."My name's Charles. This is my wife, Yasmin. We found you lying near the riverbank at the edge of the village. My daughter, Ayloul, was the first to see you."
He paused for a moment, then added more seriously:"Do you have any injuries? Something that might've affected your memory?"
Adlof thought for a second, then replied in a soft voice:"Seems like it..."
Charles stepped back and rubbed his face, trying to piece things together."Well, since you're still quite young and we have no idea where you came from, you'll stay with us for now... until we figure out where you belong."
He gestured down a small hallway."Go check out your room first. We'll get you something to eat soon."
Adlof moved slowly toward the room they'd prepared for him, his heart echoing with questions that had no voice.Who am I?Who are these people?And why does it feel like something inside me...hasn't woken up yet?