Is It Possible To Fill This Empty Space In Ourselves?
Chapter 4
Time went as it should and unknowingly had been more than a week, precisely ten days Ernest lived in this place. The bandage on his head had been removed since two days after he woke up, there were only bruises and shallow scratches from the wood and stone fragments there due to a fall on the floor that time, the ones on his hands and feet have been replaced several times.
Judging from the pain that began to fade, Ernest felt that the wound had begun to dry up. Maybe two or three more days the seams can be removed.
During these days Ernest also realized that Arsyana was not only relying on the food he had grown but also the surrounding forest. The woman quite often gets small game animals and wild fruit from within the forest, but not so deep that it does not enter the habitat of dangerous animals, and some will be taken to the district market for sale.
So far Arshana has been there twice. The woman would leave shortly after the sunlight shone and return three or four hours later. Ernest wondered how much travel time was shortened by going through the shortcut that Arsyana mentioned.
If what he had heard from the villagers at the subdistrict market earlier was true, by bicycle only, by bicycle, from the village under this mountain to the capital of the district more or less takes about one to one and a half hours depending on the speed of the driver while the woman is only on foot.
Therefore, the villagers here more often to the closer sub-district market. Or if they have to they will use a cart that is pulled with the power of livestock animals, or, but it's not too easy to find public transportation that leads from village to county unless they've made an appointment first unlike the reverse. Moreover, the village around here still includes the interior surrounded by mountains.
The longer Ernest stayed the clearer Arsyana's ability to live alone. His power to protect himself. Several times Ernest accidentally saw the woman using a dagger, which he did not know existed before, with subtle yet sharp and calculating martial movements, he said, usually at dawn when Ernest wakes up and Arshana will stop after realizing his presence. Obviously the woman deliberately woke up faster to train.
Ernest was so happy from the start that he ignored the woman's threat that he didn't do anything stupid. Okay, think of it, I'm sorry he's not a bad boy, even if it's only been a few years but his mother raised him better than that. Being on the good side of Arsyana is obviously more profitable with his current circumstances.
“What are you daydreaming about?”
Ernest glanced at the woman who had just walked into the room and passed him who was sitting next to the door just like that to head for the closet, “nothing, just that you have an interesting book, you have an interesting one,” replied Ernest while lifting the book that had been on his lap since. It contained only a collection of folklore, some of which he had heard as a child, not very useful but quite entertaining for him who could only spend time with limited activities.
Of course Ernest had already obtained permission from the woman first or he would not dare to touch her.
“Hm,” Arsyana responded with a mutter while grabbing something from the closet.
“You like folklore?”
“Ya, it's entertaining to read.”
Ernest nodded though he was not sure if the woman saw him and looked at the book in his well-maintained hand despite having signs of how often it was opened. No wonder if someone who has a book would take good care of him given how expensive this set of papers is, after all, what surprised Ernest was how this folklore book was read more often than other books containing science such as food collection and cultivation books.
He is also very surprised by how many books Arsyana has, someone whose residence just took a dilapidated building that no one wants.
Ernest heard footsteps approaching before several small and light objects were thrown into his lap, he looked up only to see Arsyana looming by his side, “what?”
“You don't want to take care of your weapon?”
Ernest looked down at those things. Yes, it is equipment to take care of sharp weapons. He placed the book in his hand onto the wooden floor right next to his protruding thigh and picked up the stuff, “thank you.”
The woman nodded, “just leave those tools under the table later and also put the book back in its place.”
“I know.”
Arsyana stared at him for a moment before stepping out of the room. Ernest felt bad because every afternoon during the days of his recovery this room was almost always in his place and Arsyana was more often outside, but Ernest thought about the free nature of the woman again…
Well, if from the beginning the woman wanted to be in this room her presence would not be a hindrance maybe she would end up with shame if that happened.
Taking the sword, which he had been leaning from the beginning not far from his position, Ernest pensively stared at the weapon remembering the first time he had brought it. More than seven years ago when he was just a boy who had not even entered the age of puberty.
Come to think of it how could that adult irresponsibly give a sword to children. Ernest smiled little remembering her.
Maybe the uncle already knew what was going to happen in the village, or it was just the worst estimate that unfortunately came true. Caring for and teaching an orphan boy reading and swordsmanship, is it worth it?
Or maybe it's just because the person has the same loneliness as a child living alone.
Ernest doesn't know and probably never will. But it was the knowledge that the person taught that allowed him to stay alive to this very moment.
Again, either he was lucky or even unlucky to always survive at the end.
Sighing out from the old memories, Ernest drew out his sword and began the treatment.
*
Time continued to move forward and unknowingly four more days had passed, the stitches on his arms and legs had been removed two days ago. It was at that moment that Ernest witnessed firsthand Arsyana's skill in dealing with injuries. How does the woman's fingers precisely clean the wound and then skillfully disconnect the thread near the knot and pull the thread. You could say very experienced.
Actually he wanted to ask where the woman was learning from but given Arsyana's reluctance in talking about her origin Ernest felt the question would not be answered.
Ernest was quite happy to see the reddish marks that were very opposite to his dark skin color, signifying a smooth recovery of his injuries and soon he could do his usual activities. Ernest was very keen to take a shower. During these two weeks he only once or twice rubbed his body carelessly.
What made her even more uncomfortable was that during her inability to touch the water, fearing that her wound would hit and become wet, she relied on the clothes that Arsyana had washed from the relics of the owner of this place. And his old clothes had been thrown away, it turned out that the clothes were too similar to the property of beggars, and the blood there was no longer able to be removed.
Not meant to be ungrateful or fussy, it's just that it's very embarrassing because the clothes in question are not only the outside but also include the inside. Even if Ernest was so embarrassed and wanted to disappear from the presence of the woman, he could not resist Arshana who thrust out all the clean clothes, outside and inside, he said, on his third day here and wearing the same clothes for two weeks in a row.
I'm sorry, but he doesn't want his precious treasures to be moldy either. And that reason overcame all the embarrassment he felt while taking it from Arsyana.
So the best option is to pretend not to realize what the woman has done and just assume the occasional dirty outfit she changes will show up clean on her own two or three days later. No, he didn't want to think of a reason why it could be clean.
Ernest really had trouble looking directly into Arshana's eyes whenever her dirty clothes appeared clean.
So yes, Ernest was very happy to see new scars on his legs and hands because it meant that soon he would not have to do any inner struggle with seeing clean clothes.
Ernest took the clothes off the top of his head that Arsyana dropped as he walked past him and saw the woman take a seat on his sidebar, next to the mattress, with another pile of cloth spilled onto the floor of the room.
The lampit that Ernest used every night is now neatly rolled not far under the mattress and leaning on the side of the closet.
“You can take care of your own clothes from now on,” said the woman without even glancing at Ernest and started folding clothes from the pile next to her.
“I know,” replied Ernest ignoring how his face heated up when he heard Arsyana's words, reminded again with his embarrassment for two weeks.
Silence enveloped those whose attention was now focused on folding each other
Ernest finished his first, just two pieces of clothes and pants this time. Okay, he's just pretending the count for the inside is already inserted on the outside.
Temporarily letting his stack stay next to him, Ernest turned his attention to Arsyana who was folding the covers. He realized it was a blanket he had been wearing from the start.
“What?” asked Arsyana who felt the gaze of the person in front of her.
Turning his gaze to the brown eyes that were now staring at him, Ernest involuntarily moistened his lips with his tongue to relieve his nervousness before venturing to ask, “when did you go to the county again?”
“Why?”
“Now I can't just sit still.”
Arsyana looked at Ernest for a while before continuing her folding activities, “what do you want to do?”
“I don't know yet,” honest Ernest, see the tree overlay through the open room window, “but there must be work I can do there.”
“Like coolies?”
“Ya.”
Arsyana only responded with a low, silent hum afterwards while clearing the folds on the last cloth in her pile.
Ernest frowned with that reaction, or could it be said that he did not see any special reaction on Arshana's face, so what was the meaning of silence?
“Don't forget you have to pay me,” said Arsyana reminded with a grin on her lips.
“I won't forget.”
“Good,” the woman stands with a pile of neatly folded cloth in her hand, “I will go the day after.”
“Oke.”
“I'll leave you on the road if your wounds hinder me.”
“I won't hinder you.”
“Don't overuse your legs and hands idiot,” said Arsyana in a scornful tone and continued with a low murmur, “luka still allows for inflammation and infection.”
Ernest was stunned for a moment to see Arsyana's back moving away from him as she headed for the closet. Turning to look at the young scar on his hands and feet, Ernest wanted to say that this was not his worst wound. At least he has proper care and rest.
In the end Ernest only sighed in defeat when he remembered that the last time he got a wound that required stitches was about 1 year ago, even more so, a few months before he decided to quit the squad and ventured out on his own.
*
Arsyana fulfilled her words on their conversation two days ago and brought Ernest to the district through the shortcut the woman had mentioned before.
During the journey through the ups and downs of the undulating forest land Ernest had to admit if he went alone and did not have Arshana as a guide then it was likely that he would get lost with the tightness of the tree trunk along the walk.
“Hei Arsyana,” called her sounded hesitant as she mentioned the name of the woman who walked two steps in front of her.
Ernest saw the person in front of him slightly flinched before stopping and looking back.
“What?” ask Arsyana flat, “I won't wait for you if you want to rest because your legs hurt.”
“My feet are not a problem.”
“What's so? If you are afraid of ghosts appearing then don't miss it and hurry up, I want to lower this load immediately.”
“What is important?”
“No,” Ernest gulps at the indifferent look of the woman in front of him, “I just want to know, sorry to make you stop.”
The woman turned around, “then let's continue walking,” she said and went back to the front.
The two went back on this long enough journey in silence and allowed the rustling sounds of leaves and grass being stepped on as well as the forest crickets to be the introduction, he said, until finally the trees are no longer as tight as before and the air becomes less humid.
Ernest was a little stunned after walking onto the flat land that was the main road to the district capital, he looked back at the lush trees where he had come out earlier.
After being noticed actually along the side of the road is a lush tree that leads into the forest. Ernest suddenly realized why passing within the mountain forest could shorten the distance to the central district.
“Do roads between districts and villages have to go around the mountain?” asked Ernest who turned back to look at Arsyana.
“Ya,” replied the woman who is now looking at him with a peeking gaze, “you are not from the South.”
“I'm coming from North.”
Arsyana nodded in understanding the reason why Ernest was surprised to know if he wanted to go to the district of Khashmar Village had to go around the mountain forest along the way, “how was the atmosphere there?”
Instinctively following Arsyana who was already back walking, Ernest fell into contemplation hearing the question. How's North? Bleakest? Recover themselves?
Ernest looked up to notice the blue sky of the morning which still had a little leftover the night before and calmly replied, “the more to the South the more alive,” that is all he can give.
Silent for a moment, “country will not let North recover itself alone.”
“They will not let any other power occupy the North.”
Arsyana glanced at the young man who was now walking beside her, “do you disagree with that?”
“Is it important?” Ernest stared straight ahead, the path he was going through, “people down no matter who was in power, they only cared how to live life.”
“And New Country doesn't even let them have that concern.”
Ernest was speechless, clenching the fists on his sides tightly, he held back the hatred as he recalled what the mentioned country had done.
Jolting out of old memories upon hearing the creaking of wheels and footprints from behind, Ernest saw a cow pulling a wagon with a few piles of burlap, a middle-aged man, and a little girl, about 10 or 12 years, on top of that.
Arsyana also saw him and pulled Ernest over to keep him from blocking the way. The vehicle stopped beside them.
“Hei Yana!” exclaimed the middle-aged man.
“Uncle Damar.”
“Ke district again?”
“Ya.”
The man called ‘Uncle Damar’ by Arsyana was glancing at Ernest, “who is this? Your family?”
“That's.”
“Come on board, it happens that Uncle also wants to go there.”
Arsyana looks embarrassed, “you have let me ride Uncle several times, if you find out your boss will not be a problem?”
Uncle Darma laughs sincerely, “Bos Kaman is a good person, he will not be angry This uncle gives a ride to another especially if it does not interfere with work.”
Arsyana wanted to refuse but seeing Ernest's legs covered in pants, she thought about the wound whose seams had just been removed, “then sorry to trouble you uncle.”
“Nah, not a problem.”
Ernest followed Arsyana to the back of the wagon and saw the woman jump in first in a smooth motion.
Arsyana put her bag to the side and turned to face Ernest who was getting ready to go up, “use your healthy feet to rest on the edge of the wood.”
“What?”
“I'll pull you up.”
Ernest frowned, “I can be alone..” he said unsure.
Arsyana rolled her eyes, “’if your wounds deteriorate it will only waste the kindness of Uncle Damar.”
Staring at those flat brown eyes for a moment, Ernest sighed in defeat, “oke.”
Ernest used his unharmed leg as a pedestal on the side of the wagon and extended his healthy hand to Arsyana, letting the woman pull him up.
Ernest felt another hand on his shoulder as he was on top of the vehicle, holding it back from falling further towards Arsyana, “thank you,” murmured.
The woman let go of her hand and immediately sat down on the empty place that was still there without responding to the remark. Ernest did not care and sat down next to him.
Seeing that both of them were safe on the cart, Uncle Damar immediately controlled his cow to continue walking, “what's wrong with him? Never been on a cart?” his question was from the beginning to pay attention to the difficulties of both.
Ernest was embarrassed to hear it.
“His leg hurt uncle,” replied Arsyana, “new start drying.”
“Ah, is it severe?”
“It takes a few stitches and just took it off a few days ago.”
“Need stitches!” Uncle Damar exclaimed in shock and sounded worried, “isn't that so bad? What is he doing here instead of resting?!”
“Hard head won't be given advice.”
Ernest glared at Arsyana who was grinning at him. The woman never advised him to keep quiet and take a break when he said he wanted to start work and instead reminded her not to forget the payment.
“You shouldn't force yourself son!”
Ernest looked up, seeing Uncle Damar who occasionally looked back while still controlling the pace of his cow, “I have been silent and let Arsyana take care of me for two weeks.”
“Good! That's a new boy!” Uncle Damar let out a voice of recognition, “what's your name son?”
“Call me Ernest, Uncle,” Ernest felt his face hot hearing that. According to him it was natural considering that Arsyana and himself were only strangers, but Ernest also realized that in the eyes of Uncle Damar both were family members.
“Ernest, uncle knows you are uncomfortable letting your wife do the work alone and worrying about everything while you can only be silent.”.
Ernest paled and looked up at Uncle Damar who was behind him and was still talking.
“... but you also can not force yourself, what if your injuries become worse!”
Opening his mouth shut wanted to refute, but Ernest himself was at a loss for what to say. Say they're just brothers? No resemblance at all! Cousin? He had no idea how far Uncle Damar knew Arsyana, what if he said something suspicious?
Fortunately Arsyana spoke first so she did not need to respond to Uncle Damar's words.
“Who is Uncle?” asked Arsyana while giving a smile to the little girl who had just been silent to see them.
Uncle Damar smiled widely and gently patted the boy's head, “my girl!”
“Hei Uncle! You have a beautiful daughter!”
The little girl blushed hearing Arsyana's words and Uncle Damar's happy laughter was heard clearly beside the sound of the wheels crackling.
“Who is this girl's name?”
The little princess turned to her father and after seeing Uncle Damar smile and nod then she replied shyly, “Rumi.”
“Name is good,” praise Arsyana soft, “why before I never saw Uncle?”
“Because it's the first time I need to bring it.”
“Oh,” Arsyana curiously asked, “and if I may know why?”
“Because of Kaman Boss' referral, Rumi managed to get a scholarship in the district girls' school,” jawan Uncle Damar sounds very happy and proud.
“That's good news!”
Ernest from the side chose to be quiet and only pay attention to the small talk Arsyana had during the trip, only occasionally chiming in if directed directly at her. Actually he was too surprised to see how the woman interacted with such a friendly village woman generally with Uncle Damar and Rumi recalled during their two weeks of interaction in that dilapidated house, one of Ernest's judgments about Arsyana was that she had a rather satirical and sharp personality.
Looking up at the increasingly clear sky, Ernest wondered if one day the North could be like the South, where the population was rich enough to walk far away using ox carts.
***