The light peaked in through the door of the hut. It was almost midsummer, and the haze from the Mist above them never really got dark.
"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread…" Mattias mused to himself out loud, looking out at the forest.
"What are you talking about?" Yelena asked him.
"It's a poem my father used to like reciting," he explained. "The older I get, the more meaning it has for me."
"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?"
"Yes…" he couldn't lie about this. Yelena knew his feelings. "I hope she's- I don't know what I hope for her. I wish her well."
"I suppose they think all of you are dead?"
"It's been five years now."
"And seventeen days," she added.
"Of course… so I'm sure they had a memorial for all of us years ago. That's what they'd do, I know it, but it's always difficult when there are no bodies."
Yelena looked at him silently. He was never entirely sure when she was quietly angry with him or just thinking about something. She always chose her words carefully. He appreciated that, but sometimes he wished it wasn't quite such a challenge to get a smile from her. A challenge could be a good thing, though. He did like a challenge.
Halima was never a challenge, not in that way.
He thought about her a lot. She was free, wasn't she? As far as she knew, he had been dead for several years. Before the last time he saw her, he had noticed the other young men in town talking to her. He had meant to make his move, propose to her, make it all official, as soon as he got back from this trip. It was supposed to be a short trip, mostly ceremonial, after all. Nothing risky.
He couldn't torture himself thinking about what might have been. He needed to live in the present. He could remember the past, there was nothing wrong with that. She had told him very little about hers, as often as he'd ask. From talking to others, Mattias had learned there had been a young man, Mandas, who had been killed a year before the Mist had fallen. Yelena never talked of him. It had never been exactly clear how Mandas had died. No one dared tell him there was anyone to blame for his death. Accidents happen, though sometimes he had to wonder.
To forgive is divine, that was another line his father would often repeat, from that same poem. He was never sure whether it was he or Yelena who needed more forgiveness. It was impossible to know, since the fighting had been so sudden and violent. All he knew was that more fighting now was tantamount to suicide. He often reminded his soldiers of this. They were at peace. They had gotten to know the people here; they were learning how to survive.
He watched silently as Yelena got up and went outside to start the chores for the day. There was plenty to be done. He would need to get back to his camp before too many people were awake. It wasn't a secret, but it was best not to be so obvious about it.
To err is human, he thought to himself. It was time to start his day.
It was a little past midsummer, when the sky was still bright all night, and if the Mist weren't there, the sun would have been skimming the horizon late into the evening.
"It's been twelve years and two months," he said to himself, walking into the Northuldra camp, toward a group of playing children.
"Hello, Mattias!" one of the girls shouted as she got her hair braided by another girl.
"Hello," Mattias called back, "is Yelena around?"
"She took the reindeer up into the hills," the girl replied.
"And, you, Tara?" Mattias asked, looking at the girl doing the braiding.
"I didn't want to go. Linne and I are going to go find mushrooms when I'm done with her hair."
"What about yours?" Mattias saw her hair sticking out from her hat.
"Mine won't braid," Tara said.
"My mother used to let me do her hair, would you like to see how it's done?"
Tara nodded. Mattias kneeled behind her where she sat braiding her friends hair and began the work.
His mother, like his father, had died before any of this happened. His father's work had often kept him away for days, sometimes weeks at a time, and on those dark, lonely nights, he would help with her hair, at first making a clumsy child's attempts, but after she realized he was serious, she instructed him on how to do it properly. Then she taught him to sew. That had been useful the last twelve years, since the soldier's uniforms were the only clothing they had, and he had taken on the task of mending for everyone. It had been one of his main tasks in the winter, since he couldn't fish like some of the others.
The fifth winter had been a difficult one. His soldiers had stayed close to the lake, since several of them were already experienced with ice fishing, and that was at least a steady source of food. The fish had helped them every winter so far. Mattias hadn't meant to stay away from Yelena's camp that year, but it was winter, and everyone was focused on survival. His people had ended up staying with the Northuldra the first winter, and it felt like begging and charity, taking food from them. Every year since that first one, the soldiers had stayed by the lake.
It was well past the Equinox when Mattias had finally seen Yelena again. It took him a moment to realize that she had a sleeping baby strapped to her back. The baby was a girl, and her name was Tara. Yelena refused his offers of help, but never stopped him from coming by to visit.
Mattias finished off Tara's braids, finding a spare string to tie them up in the back. She was finishing off her friend's long braid at the same time, and reached back to feel the work.
"Wow! Thank you!" she laughed. "I suppose you have some line of a poem for this, too?"
Mattias chuckled as he stood up. "Not today, Tara."
Mattias wandered by Yelena's hut, kicking at the first fall leaves hitting the ground.
"What are you doing here today?" Yelena demanded.
"You still have to ask that? How many years has it been, Yelena?"
"Twenty-five years, three months, and two days," she told him.
"Of course," he chuckled, grabbing a nearby leaf wafting by. He looked at it for a moment before sticking it in his pocket.
Yelena got back to tending the fire in the middle of the camp.
"So… where is Tara?" Mattias asked.
"She was…" Yelena seemed to be considering her words carefully, "she went to see a friend."
Toward the edge of the camp, they could hear sudden yelps and laughter from the younger people. In the woods, Mattias could just see two people approaching on the back of a reindeer. As they approached, he could see Tara sitting on the front, beaming, with a young man behind her holding her by the waist. Mattias didn't remember seeing the young man around, but recognized the hat as the style of the village across the mountains on the far side of the lake.
He heard shouts of "What did she say?" from the crowd.
"Of course I said yes!" Tara shouted, laughing, before the young man behind her could reply.
"Wait…" Mattias whispered to Yelena, "what's going on?"
"You have to ask? How long have you been here, Lieutenant?" she replied, smirking.
"Oh! Mattias! You're here!" Tara called out as the reindeer approached the center of camp.
"Hello, Tara, you said you might have something to tell me today…"
"I hope it's a good surprise," she said, almost nervously, giggling a bit. "I suppose it means I'm not an angel, now."
"What?" he asked.
"You remember the line?" she smiled, "Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread."