Nameless Ones (2)

He gazed at the man in silence, imagining how people perceived him. 

A man living in a decent cabin with divided rooms. He rises early every day, sharing baked bread from the communal oven with the villagers in the morning, tending to the fields in the afternoon, and returning to his cabin in the evening to greet his neighbours before falling asleep, waiting for the labour of the next day.

This ordinary person draped in simplicity handed me a blanket. I felt the fine wrinkles and soft hairs of his skin as our fingertips brushed. If only he was cold and wax-like, entirely inhuman, it wouldn't have been so unsettling. Then he spoke.

"Would it be alright for three people to share one room? I have another room available."

"Of course. I like sleeping close together."

After all, we had introduced ourselves as family on the way here. It wouldn't feel unnatural.

"Then let's do that. I need to go tend to the fields."

I enter the room and approach Leonardo, having retrieved a blanket. Through past incidents, we had developed a few signals between us. Sometimes, we could understand each other just by making eye contact without needing such signals, but at other times, these additional cues were necessary.

Tapping the back of the hand twice meant "Can we talk for a moment?" and if the signal was returned with two taps, it meant "Yes, we can."

Touching the earlobe was a question: "Is there no one else around?" and it was usually Leonardo who answered. He would either draw a small X on the back of his hand to signal "Someone's listening," or tap twice to signal "Yes, it's just us."

I tap the back of his hand twice and tug my earlobe. Leonardo glances at the closed door, pretends to take the blanket from me, and draws an X on the back of my hand.

"Oh, there's a window here. We might get a draft at night…"

So, I pretend to close the curtain and cover the window.

Swoosh.

As the window is covered, the room darkens. The light from outside becomes relatively brighter, seeping through the gap between the door and the floor. However, instead of a continuous line of light, it breaks at two points. The light was trying to come in, but something outside the door blocked those parts, casting shadows. The man who had claimed to be going to plow the field was actually standing silently outside the room, not leaving the cabin.

"..."

He must be pressing his ear to the door, eavesdropping. After realizing that the shadow had slid into the room, he quietly left the front of the door, and the shadow disappeared, but the eerie feeling remained. I removed the cloth covering the window.

Leonardo, who had been quietly closing his eyes and listening, finally signaled that it was safe now. I warned Vittorio and Leonardo.

"An assimilated one. It's that."

Leonardo's expression hardened. Vittorio was initially puzzled by the term 'assimilated one' but tensed up at the mention of 'that'.

It would cause too much commotion to cut it down immediately in a small village where everyone knew each other. We also needed to check if there were any other entities hiding, and considering that the resident who guided us was human, it raised questions about why they hadn't already consumed the entire village.

"We should follow him. He didn't take any farming tools when he left."

The possibility that he was heading somewhere other than the field made me nod thoughtfully. It could be dangerous, so I grabbed Vittorio's shoulder and made eye contact with him.

"Kiddo, remember the people we met earlier? They're not it, so you should stay near them. And like you did in Sinistra, keep your ears open for anything."

"Okay… be careful out there."

"Of course, naturally."

Leonardo and I quietly followed. We watched as he pretended to head toward the field, only to slip away like a snake into the bushes. Our suspicions turned to certainty. He had a purpose and was heading somewhere specific.

The dense foliage and occasional gusts of wind masked the sound of our steps. He was heading toward a certain shore. The place he disappeared into was a well-hidden cave entrance, much like the one where we spent our first night stranded. We couldn't bring ourselves to enter. Even Leonardo, who usually had keen ears, frowned in frustration this time.

After what felt like an eternity, long enough for our legs to go numb, he reemerged. He was dragging several large sacks, a shovel casually slung over his shoulder.

Thud!

He thrust the shovel into the ground, creating a deep hole. He dug a pit nearby, threw one of the sacks into it, and buried it. Then he slowly circled the forest, disposing of three sacks in total before heading back into the cave.

We waited until we were certain that it wouldn't come out of the cave again, then headed over. It hadn't made much effort to hide the pits. The overturned soil was darker than the surrounding area, and all the grass had been ripped out, leaving it bare. Leonardo and I dug up the first pit and pulled out the sack. As soon as we untied the tightly secured sack, a foul stench wafted out.

"Ugh."

Inside was something shriveled and emptied out, like what we had found on the riverbank on the way to Rilke. It was the decayed carcass of a monster. Leonardo and I exchanged a silent glance. Moments like this didn't require hand signals. We quickly reburied the sack, returning the area to its previous state.

We dug up and opened the second sack. There was a clinking sound, like ceramic pieces clashing. From the sound alone, we could guess what it was before opening it. Bones.

"Monster bones, right?"

"Seems like it."

Finally, we pulled out the third sack.

"This is…"

It was filled with human clothes.

We returned to the cave entrance, but seeing no sign of it coming out, we had to go back. The village was small and full of watchful eyes. We couldn't afford to leave the child alone for too long and risk raising unnecessary suspicion. Besides, we were worried about Vittorio being alone.

***

When we got back to the village, Vittorio was sitting among the elders. In a pot, a milky liquid was swirling slowly, indicating they were making cheese.

"Vittorio."

I cleared my mind of the recent scene and called out to the boy. He looked up quickly and, with a brightened face, dashed over.

"Up you go."

I picked him up and approached the villagers.

"The colour is beautiful. Did you get this from your own livestock?"

"Of course, the grass on that mountain over there is tender and rich, so we only feed them that."

"No wonder! I lived in the city for a while, and there we had to buy cheese, but I've never smelled anything this rich before."

"Well, I never! Buying cheese with money? That's a new one. Come on over here. You go to all that trouble for something we have on our table every day? Let me show you how it's done."

I naturally joined the conversation, and the atmosphere became quite cheerful. Except for one person.

"…But why is that young man glaring so fiercely?"

Leonardo's face definitely had a rough look. The old folks weren't fond of his thuggish appearance, and it was showing.

"Leo isn't glaring; he's just observing. Look, he's fascinated, eyes all wide."

"Not sure if that's curiosity or something else…"

"Haha, he often gets misunderstood because of his looks. He's really kind once you get to know him."

"Is that so? And you three are a family, right? Is this your child?"

While staying in this village, we were indeed pretending to be a family.

"Yes."

Vittorio flinched at my response. Maybe I spoke too freely without his consent. While keeping an eye on Vittorio's reaction, I listened intently to the two elders' detailed explanation of cheese-making, waiting for the right moment.

"So, see how it's firmed up and gotten nice and soft now? You need to cut it into cubes, just like dice. But do you know what happens if someone cheats by shaving the corners of the dice to make the higher numbers come up more often?"

I didn't know… Maybe he was talking about using a hammer or something.

"You have to cut each piece evenly, like you're keeping an eye on the opponent's dice. That way, the cheese will come out firm. But it's not easy with my hands shaking from old age."

"Leave it to us. There's someone here who's really good at this."

I gave a slight nod to Leonardo, and he approached. The elders watched in amazement as he cut the curd into perfect, uniform cubes, like a precise machine.

"Cutting it evenly like this makes the cheese come out very tasty. The young man has good skills with his hands, doesn't he? We'll give you some to take home and enjoy later."

The elders, impressed with Leonardo's work ethic, assigned him the task of stirring the whey and curds. Seeing this as the right moment, I casually spoke up.

"That's great. We can make a meal out of this soon. The place we're staying tonight is that cabin over there. It's pretty sparse inside since it's just one person living there. Couldn't even think of making a complicated dish."

"Oh, that cabin?"

"Yes. It's quite big for one person, and there's not much furniture or equipment. It seems a lot of areas haven't been used much."

"That makes sense."

The elder's knowing response seemed promising, so I subtly steered the conversation in that direction.

"Why's that?"

"Why? Because that man only came to our village a few days ago… About four days ago, I think. That house was empty because the previous occupants died."

What?

"But the person who guided us here didn't mention that. He acted so friendly, like he'd been here all along."

"Ah."

The elder clicked his tongue knowingly and replied.

"That man looks like my younger brother who died when I was young."

"Looks like someone who died? That's…"

"You think he might be it? At first, I thought so too, but the man is so thin. My late brother had some meat on his bones. So, I only suspected him briefly and then left him alone. Besides, if he was it, wouldn't he have consumed a small village like this by now? Seems like he's planning to settle down here for good."

"..."

"Ah. That makes sense."

With that, we finished stirring the cheese. The elders, with hands toughened from years of farming, divided the hot cheese, stretching it and then forming it into round shapes.

It was so hot that I didn't dare to touch it. Only someone like Leonardo, whose hands had toughened from wielding a sword, could clumsily shape the cheese into round forms alongside the elders. Vittorio and I watched their movements. After a short while, we returned to the cabin with three glistening, round mozzarella cheese balls.

"Anyone home?"

Inside the house, there it was. I silently stared at him before breaking into a playful smile.

"Oh. You must be coming back from the fields. I'm just about to make lunch; would you like to join us?"

I extended the invitation to him.

"...Sure."

He accepted.