Lena stepped out from the forest's shadow and into a sunlit opening that took her breath away.
The village was alive.
Tucked within the hills like a secret, *Willowend* buzzed with motion and color. Lanterns swayed from hanging ropes between crooked wooden houses, and flower petals floated on the breeze, carried from stalls brimming with herbs, fruits, and strange glowing vegetables. Children ran barefoot through the streets, laughing as they chased each other past wandering chickens and tiny carts led by furry creatures with too many legs.
Lena blinked, trying to take it all in. She didn't belong here—anyone could tell with one glance. Her clothes were torn at the hem, her boots still stained with forest dirt, and her long coat bore the mark of another world. She wrapped it tighter around herself, shoulders drawn, and began to walk.
People paused.
Heads turned.
At first, it was subtle—just lingering glances. Then whispers followed.
"Is she a noble?"
"Look at that pendant… it glows."
"She's not from here, is she?"
"Is she cursed? Or blessed?"
Lena kept her eyes forward, trying to ignore the murmurs. She didn't feel threatening—but maybe that was the problem. She didn't feel anything at all except tired and wildly out of place.
Then, a voice cut through the crowd, cheerful and full of mischief.
"Oh stars, look at her skin—it's glowing! You are glowing, right? Or is that just some fancy potion?"
Lena turned to find a group of women standing near a fruit stall, fanning themselves lazily under a beaded awning. They were dressed in flowing silks of every shade imaginable, their faces warm and curious.
"Come here, love!" said the boldest of them—a round, dark-skinned woman with a wide smile and golden bangles up to her elbows. "Don't be shy!"
Lena hesitated, but the warmth in the woman's voice melted her caution just enough. She took a step forward.
Another woman, older, with silver hair woven into braids, eyed her with amusement. "She's too pretty to be local. Bet she's from the north. Or the beyond."
"The beyond?" Lena asked, confused.
"Oh, don't mind her," said the first woman, waving her hand. "Name's *Tama*, and this curious little circle of chaos are my sisters in spirit. What's your name, lovely?"
"…Lena," she answered softly.The youngest of the group, a girl in her late teens, leaned forward. "Are you a princess in disguise?"
Lena laughed under her breath. "No. Just… someone looking for a place to stay."
Tama's eyes sparkled. "Well, lucky for you, Willowend's got heart, not just houses. You need a bed, we'll find you one."
Before Lena could protest, the women were already in motion—linking arms with her, brushing leaves from her shoulders, admiring her pendant.
"You have kind eyes," one murmured.
"Such posture—were you a dancer?"
"No, no—look at those hands. She's definitely seen things."
"She smells like pine and stardust."
Lena found herself laughing, truly laughing, for the first time since she'd entered this strange world. These women didn't fear her. They didn't question why she was here. They simply *embraced her presence*.
Within minutes, they were guiding her through the village streets as if she were one of their own. Children peeked out from windows. Merchants offered her curious nods. A woman selling candied apples handed her one without charge.
"First-timers don't pay," she winked.
They turned a corner, and the inn appeared like something out of a storybook. *The Crooked Candle*, read the hanging sign, swaying gently in the breeze. The building itself looked like it had grown from the earth, with moss covering the lower walls and flowers blooming from the rooftop.
"She'll take good care of you here," said Tama, patting Lena's shoulder. "The innkeeper's a grumpy old fox, but his soup is a miracle."
"Are you sure?" Lena asked, glancing at the cozy building. "I don't… I don't have money."
"We didn't ask for any," the older woman said with a wink. "Consider it a welcome gift."
"But—"
Tama stepped closer, her voice softer now. "You've got the look of someone who fell through the sky, girl. People like that don't land in Willowend by accident."
There was something knowing in her eyes. Lena swallowed hard and nodded.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The women gave her one final embrace—each offering soft blessings or teasing smiles—before turning back toward the market square, their laughter floating behind them like music.
Lena stepped up to the inn door and opened it slowly.
The warm scent of stew and herbs greeted her instantly. Wooden beams stretched overhead, and a fire crackled in the hearth. The innkeeper, a fox-faced man with white streaks in his hair, looked up from behind the counter and grunted.
"You're late," he said. "Room's already made. Upstairs, second on the left."
She blinked. "You… were expecting me?"
He didn't answer. Just went back to stirring his tea.
Lena climbed the stairs, heart thudding, and entered a small but inviting room. A bed with patchwork blankets. A washbasin. A window overlooking the hills.
She sank into the bed with a soft sigh. The pendant at her chest pulsed gently—like Winter's magic was still watching.
And outside, in the lively village of Willowend, the world kept turning.
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