The sun had barely risen when the first boats arrived along the river. It was floating market day, a rare event that only happened a few times a year. The boats, decorated with colorful fabrics, were loaded with fruits, vegetables, pottery, and spices.
Mylova, Louis, and Vanessa made their way to the riverbank. The scent of ripe mangoes and grilled cornmeal bread floated in the air. Women sold necklaces made of dried seeds, while others offered steaming dishes cooked right on their boats.
"Look," Vanessa said, pointing at a basket of exotic flowers. "They smell like honey!"
Mylova leaned in to breathe in their fragrance, then let herself be tempted by a small bouquet. Louis, meanwhile, was bargaining with a merchant for a set of finely painted ceramic cups.
As they walked on, they came across an old man whose face was weathered by the sun. His eyes seemed to study them a little too long.
"First time I've seen you here," he said.
"Yes," Louis replied, "we don't often leave the village."
The man nodded, though his gaze lingered on Mylova for another moment before turning away. She felt a slight shiver, as if this stranger had tried to etch her face into his memory.
Yet the bustle of the market quickly pushed that feeling aside. A group of musicians aboard a small boat began to play a lively tune, drawing in the curious. Children laughed as they tasted cane sugar sweets, and merchants called out their wares in loud, cheerful voices.
After tasting the grilled lemon wood fish, Mylova, Louis, and Vanessa continued their walk along the boats draped in shimmering fabrics. The vivid colors reflected in the calm water, and the scents of spices and ripe fruit mingled in the warm air.
At each boat, a different language could be heard—from Creole French to Wolof, and even English. It was as if the river had gathered a piece of the whole world into this single place.
Vanessa marveled at the seed necklaces, woven baskets, and finely decorated pottery. She held tightly to her small woven basket, guarding it like a precious treasure.
The old man from earlier crossed their path again, sitting near a fruit stand this time. He watched them a little longer, a faint, enigmatic smile tugging at his lips.
"What are you truly looking for?" he asked in a low voice.
Louis frowned, surprised by the question.
"We're only looking for something to eat," he replied politely.
"Hmm…" the man murmured, nodding once. Then he stood up slowly and vanished into the crowd.
On the way back, Mylova cast one last glance at the floating market. The laughter of children, the music echoing across the water, the warmth of the sun—everything seemed normal, almost too perfect.
But that normality hid a subtle tension, a quiet shadow that few could notice.
As they crossed a small wooden bridge, Mylova felt a presence behind her. She turned quickly but saw only the smiling faces of villagers busy with their day.
She shook her head to chase away the feeling, her heart beating a little faster. Vanessa took her hand and smiled innocently.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Everything is fine."
Yet deep down, Mylova knew this fragile peace would not last for much longer.