On the way back home, the image of the young woman wouldn't leave Aron's mind.
He didn't even notice when they had already arrived.
His mother placed him on the bed in the bedroom, picked up a book, sat on the other side, and began reading.
'I'm not someone who's skeptical about magic or the occult.'
'In my previous life, that might have existed, but I never witnessed anything myself.'
'I heard many supernatural cases around the world that even science couldn't explain, but making it rain over an area—even a small one—is absurd.'
Aron silently observed the situation.
He looked at his mother, focused on her reading.
'Despite the humble condition I'm in, at least I'll learn how to read and write.'
His eyes drifted to a shelf in the corner of the room, holding a dozen or more books.
'It's been two and a half weeks since my father left. Wherever he went, it must be very far… or something happened.'
He turned his gaze back to his mother.
'No… she doesn't show any signs of worry or anxiety. So she's either used to this or knows that whatever he went to do will take time.'
'And it must be dangerous. After all, she was worried before he left. Like they say: "What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel."'
'But if this world has magic and they can use it out in the open without any problem, then this world is very interesting… I can't wait to find out more.'
Another week passed. His father neither returned nor sent any news. During that time, Aron also didn't see Matilda.
Other women came to visit his mother and him, but he hadn't learned their names yet.
During this period, he learned many new words, some more complex.
The language didn't seem difficult and had many similarities to languages he already knew.
His mother now behaved differently. She spent more time walking around the village and, at night, stood at the door of the house looking out at the street, as if waiting for someone.
And Aron knew who it was.
'It should be about time for him to come back… or he should have already returned.'
During the increasingly frequent walks around the village, he saw more people using magic or displaying strength and speed beyond the ordinary.
But that only happened among teenagers and adults. Children were still just children.
Two days after completing four weeks, he finally appeared.
Well… Aron barely recognized him.
His hair was messy, as if it hadn't seen water in months.
There were marks of healing wounds on his face and arms. His clothes were dirty and torn in several places.
What didn't have holes was the new leather armor he was wearing—the old one had probably been discarded.
The bow on his back was still the same.
It looked like he had taken a beating meant for ten people all by himself.
'Well… at least he didn't die.'
When his mother saw him, she picked Aron up and went to hug him.
'Ugh… if he didn't die, he's close! What is that smell? Did he roll around in some carcass with vultures?'
His mother also stopped and told him to go around to the back of the house.
Aron didn't understand everything, but from the gestures, it was more than clear.
She placed him on the bed and went to heat water.
'With that smell, they'll have to boil the water to bathe him. The only way to get rid of that rotten stench is to change his skin entirely.'
A few hours later, Aron was already bored, staring at the bedroom ceiling, when he heard their voices approaching.
'Well, I doubt it took them all this time just to bathe.'
They entered. His father came into the room where he was, while his mother went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
He looked much more presentable now. He didn't stink anymore, and shirtless, wearing only shorts, it was possible to see more wounds on his upper body.
One in particular stood out: it had the shape of claws on the left side of his chest, near the heart.
'That doesn't look like something from an ordinary animal… if that wound had been a little deeper, it would have pierced his heart.'
By the time he arrived, the sun had already begun to set, and after a long bath, it was now dark outside.
He put on a shirt, picked Aron up, and started talking to him about the trip as they left the house.
Aron didn't understand much.
From what he could gather, every year they went to a nearby city to earn money and buy supplies, tools, and other things.
But as for how he earned that money, Aron barely understood anything.
Only a few words like "fought," "was strong," "almost died," "I won," "cost money," and "took longer." He used many new words Aron had never heard before.
'It's hard to understand exactly what he's bragging about with that proud look on his face… so he fought something… but what?'
After walking for about five minutes, they stopped in front of a house similar to theirs.
After knocking on the door, Matilda appeared, her hair still wet.
This time, Aron understood everything they said.
"How are you?" Arthur said.
"I'm fine. What is it?" Matilda replied, with her usual gentle voice.
"Nothing. I came to invite you to dinner at our place, as a way of thanking you for saving my life," Arthur said, looking away.
"We're a team. I save your life today, and you save mine tomorrow."
"You don't need to thank me for that. But since the invitation's already made, let's go. I'm starving," Matilda said, already closing the door.
Then she looked at Aron and took him from Arthur's arms.
Arthur looked at Aron and then at her, awkwardly, his face full of reluctance.
She looked at him and said, "I miss him. So don't make that face like a dog that lost its bone. You already had your turn."
Arthur looked at her in defeat.
Matilda, with Aron in her arms, walked ahead.
Aron looked at his father and waved goodbye.
He looked at him in surprise and hurried to catch up. He tried to talk to Aron but was ignored.
A short time later, they were already home.
They sat at the table while his mother served the food.
It wasn't anything fancy: a meat soup with thick broth, wheat or barley bread, and some steamed vegetables.
It wasn't luxury food, but Aron felt like eating. He was already tired of drinking milk.
'Too bad I won't be eating it. It smells great.'
He was still in Matilda's arms as she ate and talked with his parents.
'She's pretty strong. I've been in her arms for quite a while, and she hasn't even switched arms to rest.'
A well-fed five-month-old baby weighs between 7 and 9 kilograms. Holding that weight for a while wasn't light work.
After they finished eating, Matilda placed Aron in his mother's arms and went to wash the dishes.
Since there was no running water, they used a basin to clean the utensils.
'Well… now that they've eaten, it's my turn.'
After feeding, sleep came, and Aron dozed off while they continued talking in the living room.
'Tomorrow I'll try to listen more carefully to what my father did on that trip.'