The trees got fresh green again, the birds brooded in their nests, the plain became colourful from the many different flowers. The sun gained more strength every day and warmed the ground, the days became longer.

Sitara and Piccolo had acquired a rhythm. Sitara only spent one or two hours alone in the forest to hunt. During that time, Piccolo was usually in the cave by the waterfall or on the rock plateau. When she was done with her daily work, they first trained their fighting techniques on the plain, had a snack at noon, then meditated together and then stretched the bond between them. In the last few months, they had actually managed to increase the distance from the first day. However, they still did not make it all the way to the mountains. Even the deep meditations during the nights of the full moon did not bring the desired result.

Instead of finding this state annoying or even shying away from it, as they had done at the beginning, they now both tried to make use of it and discover advantages in it. They each managed to walk along the line and transfer energy to the other during their afternoon meditation exercises.

More months went by and a white blanket covered the forest again. Both had come to terms with the situation. They had accepted it. Sitara still had not regained her memory and did not believe in it any more. She was not frustrated about it as she had been a year ago. She wanted for nothing. She was content. Who knows, maybe no one missed her where she had come from and it was a good thing that she was here. She felt comfortable and if she was completely honest with herself, she enjoyed the connection with Piccolo and occasionally wondered if he felt the same way. At least he had stopped trying so frantically to break the connection. She could no longer imagine what it would be like without him.

With these thoughts, she roamed through the forest, going over her traps to see if any animal had strayed into them. A thick blanket of snow had settled over everything and she was not paying attention to where she was going as she was busy with her thoughts.

Suddenly she was yanked up by her foot and hung upside down on a branch. Sitara was so surprised that she let out a sharp scream. When she had leveled out, Piccolo was standing in front of her.

He grinned mockingly. "Have you forgotten where you set your own traps?" Sitara clasped her hands in front of her chest, trying to look confident as best she could while hanging upside down from a branch.

"I was in thought," she replied snappily.

"So, so, what were you thinking about?" wanted Piccolo to know.

She blushed. It seemed too intimate for her to talk about it. He would surely laugh at her. Murmuring to herself, she freed herself from the noose, stuck her tongue out at him and flew away. She was furious. He could have helped her instead of just grinning at her. She flew across the plain towards the mountains. They had managed to extend the distance between them to the distance between the waterfall and the mountains at the beginning of winter. There were one or two retreats in the mountains that Sitara liked to go to. Right now, when she wanted to be by herself so he wouldn't see her tears of anger and disappointment, the mountains seemed more appropriate than her hut in the forest or the cave by the waterfall.

She flew very high when she reached the foothills of the mountains and headed for the highest point of the massif.

Piccolo stared for a moment at the point where Sitara had been hanging in the noose just a moment ago. Why had she flown away so suddenly? He had received a brief surge of angry vibrations through her connection. Could he feel what she was feeling? That was new. Or was that a result of the strengthened connection? Or did it only work with very strong emotions? He grabbed his head with one hand. It was exasperating. No one could give them answers and new questions seemed to arise all the time. He would first sit down in the cave for a while. Sitara would calm down and come back. He was just rising into the air when a sudden pain made him fall back again. He grabbed his left side. It felt as if he had been hit by something, but there was nothing at his side. No blood, no wound. The skin was intact. Had something happened to Sitara?

He flew in the direction in which she had disappeared. The invisible ribbon shone brightly for him as he closed his eyes and concentrated. He followed it. He trusted the ribbon completely and flew with his eyes closed. When the ribbon was only short, he opened his eyes and searched the foothills of the mountains with his eyes. He spotted Sitara. She was lying sideways wedged between two larger rocks. The left half of her body was pointing upwards. The head hung limply.

Piccolo landed and widened his eyes in horror. In her side, exactly where he had felt the pain, was an arrow. Where had it come from? They hadn't seen a single human soul here in all this time. Why now? Piccolo was torn between the urge to find the attacker and tear him to shreds and the need to help Sitara. When he heard a soft moan from her, his attention was fully on her. Carefully he disentangled her from the rocks, picked her up in his arms and flew to her hut.

Sitara was conscious. She did not say a word during the flight, but clenched her teeth to keep from gasping in pain. Her right arm hung limply. Perhaps it was even broken, for she could not move it.

Arriving at the hut, Piccolo opened the door with his elbow and carefully stepped inside. He stopped for a moment, for he realised that he had only entered the hut once and was now not quite sure which door to open.

He stood in a large room almost as big as the hut. A sofa and two armchairs were grouped around a television, and there was a kitchenette in one corner. Everything looked bright and tidy. To his right were two more doors that were closed. Sitara noticed his hesitation.

"The second door," was all she said and he entered the small chamber with the bed. Carefully he laid Sitara down on the bed and looked at the wound with the arrow. The point was in her side. There was no exit wound.

"I have to pierce the arrow," he said. Sitara nodded. She knew it was impossible to pull the arrow out.

"Do it," she brought out between clenched teeth.

Piccolo nodded, broke off the end of the arrow and looked her in the eye once more. Another nod. Without another word, he pushed the arrow through. Sitara bit her lips to keep from screaming. Blood seeped from the wound and soaked the sheets. Quickly he took another sheet and pressed it onto the wound.

"You are brave." Piccolo had spoken the words before he could stop his mouth in them.

"Praise from your mouth. Apparently I'm dying now," was Sitara's retort.

Piccolo cleared his throat and changed the subject. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I was flying towards the mountains, all of a sudden I got hit and crashed. I didn't see anyone." He would solve that mystery yet and make whoever it was suffer for what he had done to Sitara.

"Don't you dare. I will find this guy and bring him to justice," Sitara said. Piccolo glared at her. Had he spoken his thoughts aloud earlier? "No, but your face speaks volumes." She smiled faintly. "In the bathroom," she gestured with her head towards the other room, "is

are some bandages."

He disappeared and after a short while returned with the bandages. He dressed the wound as best he could. It was not bleeding as much as when he had pulled the arrow out. He gave her some more water to drink.

"There is nothing I can do for your arm right now. Is there a doctor or something like that in the village you were in?" he asked her.

"Yes. Yumi. Tomorrow. Sleep." Sitara couldn't manage another full sentence. Her eyes were already closed and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. When he had made sure she was asleep, he went outside and waited until the sun reappeared on the horizon. A night had never seemed so long to him.

As soon as the first rays of the sun had climbed over the mountains, Piccolo knocked softly on Sitara's bedroom door. He received no answer and slowly opened the door. "Sitara?" No response. He opened the door completely and entered.

Sitara was lying in her bed in front of the window. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was tense, her uninjured hand was on her stomach. She was breathing heavily. Piccolo approached her bed and reached out to touch her. He paused just before touching her as he realised he had never touched her outside of her training. His fingertips touched her arm. He jerked back. She felt hot, like she was glowing from the inside out. His gaze jerked to the broken arrow that had been lying on the small cupboard beside her bed since yesterday.

Carefully he lifted it up and smelled the arrowhead. He didn't know what bothered him about the smell, but it smelled wrong, dangerous.

Without further hesitation, he took Sitara and her blanket in his arms, left the hut and flew in the direction of the village where he had dropped her off once before, a seemingly eternity ago. This time he had to show himself. He didn't know what else to do. He had to take the risk.

He flew as fast as he could. He felt Sitara's heat on his body even through the blanket. He felt powerless because he could not help her. He, the demon king. Why couldn't he heal her? Did his power lie only in destruction?

There were many people in the village, chatting, running errands and going from house to house. When he landed, the people scattered, screaming. "The devil!" "He's here!" They ran into their houses by the quickest routes.

"Stop!" Piccolo's voice drowned out everything. The impossible happened. The people stopped and looked at him more closely. Only now did they realise what he was carrying in his arms. "I need a doctor," Piccolo shouted.

An elderly woman detached herself from the crowd. Her grey hair was tied tightly back, giving her a severe appearance. However, the laugh lines around her eyes belied that impression. Her long dark robe dragged on the ground. She stopped three steps in front of Piccolo.

"What happened to her?" Her voice was firm, as if she was used to giving instructions.

"She was hit by an arrow yesterday. I'm afraid it was poisoned."

"Did you bring the arrow?"

Piccolo stepped closer to her. The woman was small and he was almost twice her size. "I have it with me."

"Follow me." The old woman turned and walked quickly down from the village square. The crowd that had watched the brief conversation in amazement parted and made way for the strange team. There was fear in the eyes of the villagers as Piccolo walked past them. He did not dignify them with a glance.

The old woman walked down a street, turned right at the end and walked towards a small house. She opened the green-painted door, above which different herbs were painted. The house consisted of two rooms, a living room and a separate bedroom. The herbalist pointed to the sofa.

"Put it there." Piccolo immediately complied with the request, put Sitara down and stepped aside. The woman came to the sofa with a bowl of water and some cloths. She flung back the blanket. "Where was she hit?"

"On her left side. And her arm ..."

She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "I see. The arrow."

When Piccolo did not immediately respond, she prompted him again. "I need the arrow." Piccolo handed her the arrowhead. She smelled it, then held it against the light, turned it and smelled it again. Then she nodded, disappeared into an alcove of the small room and came back with some glasses of different sizes

The old woman worked in silence. Piccolo followed her every move. She cleaned Sitara's wound, which had become infected, and put some leaves from her jars on it. She bandaged the wound. She straightened the arm. Finally, she poured some liquid into Sitara.

"This will bring down her fever. The wound was infected. The arrow was poisoned. Fortunately, I could recognise the poison on the arrow. She will sleep now. Tomorrow she will surely be better."

Piccolo nodded his thanks to her. "You can stay here until she wakes up." With these words, the old woman got up from her crouching position and walked towards the bedroom.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" The question had left his mouth before he could hold it back.

The herbalist stopped and smiled. "I am not afraid of those who care so much for their friends."

"We are not friends, only ..." burst out Piccolo. But the subliminal threat fizzled out, for he could not think of a better word. Slightly annoyed, he sank to the floor, folded his arms in front of his chest and closed his eyes. The clear sign that he would not speak now. The old woman chuckled silently to herself. Some things never changed.

Again Piccolo endured a long night. This time he listened for Sitara's breathing. At first it was irregular and heavy. After some time, it became more regular, calmer. He carefully touched her forehead. The fever had gone down. Relief came over him.

The next morning, the herbalist came to Sitara. Piccolo, who had not moved all night, gave her a sharp look, but did not move. The old woman felt Sitara's forehead and checked the wound. She smiled.

"It looks good. She has come through the fever. Only the arm still needs to be rested."

"Good, then I'll take her back now."

Yumi knew she could not contradict him. "Take good care of her."

Piccolo picked Sitara up in his arms again and headed for the door. Just before he went through, he turned back. "Thank you." He said it quietly without looking at her. She nodded and he left her house.

Piccolo flew back into the forest to her hut with Sitara in his arms and laid her on her bed. He covered her, sat down on the ground next to the bed and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He felt relief and was amazed at that. That he would mind that she could have died puzzled him. If someone had asked him if Sitara should leave the forest, he would have answered that he didn't care. However, this incident had revealed something to him about his feelings that he himself had not yet realised.

Abruptly, Piccolo jumped to his feet. This sentimentalism did not belong to a demon king. What was he doing here anyway? Quickly he turned around, left the hut and flew to the plain. There he trained until he was only panting on all fours and the night descended back to earth.

Sitara awoke in complete darkness. She first had to orientate herself as to where she was. She recognised the bed beneath her, felt the dresser next to her bed and switched on the light. The brightness made her blink. Slowly she sat down and groaned in pain. Her side ached and her whole body felt as if she had been exercising for days without a break.

She couldn't remember what had happened. The flight, the pain, the falling, then the impact on the rock. She looked at her arm. It was bandaged and placed in a makeshift sling. She carefully moved her finger. The upper arm hurt a little, but it was bearable. What had happened after the fall? She had only noticed Piccolo's face blurred, then blackness. Had he taken care of her?

Where was he anyway? That was the first thing she had to find out. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, straightened up and sank back onto the bed. Her head was spinning and she felt sick. She breathed in and out deeply to dispel the nausea. After a few breaths it was more bearable and she dared another attempt to stand on her feet. This time she remained standing, but her legs were shaking. Slowly, she walked to the door, using her healthy arm to hold on to the wall and the door frame.

She stopped in the frame of the door and looked around. She had somewhat expected Piccolo to be sitting in the living room, but she shook her head. It looked strange even in her imagination.

She made her way to the exit and opened the door. Icy wind beat against her. Snow swirled in her face. Shivering, she closed the door again. Now she would certainly not venture outside. Swaying, she went to the sofa and dropped onto it. She was just wondering whether she should go back to the bedroom to continue sleeping or whether the sofa was comfortable enough, when her stomach growled. Oh great. Now she had to get up again.

Suddenly the front door slammed open and the wind whistled in. Had she not closed the door properly? Before she could see around the corner, the wind had stopped. The door had apparently closed again. The next moment, Piccolo stepped into her field of vision.

"Um, hi," Sitara said haltingly. It felt strange to have Piccolo in the hut. The furniture seemed too small next to him, out of place.

"How are you?" He stopped at the edge of the living room, as if he didn't dare come closer.

"I feel wobbly, my side and arm hurt." Piccolo's expression showed no movement. "What happened?" she asked cautiously.

Piccolo tilted his head, "You fell."

"Yes, I know. But what happened after that?"

In terse sentences he told her how he had found her, how he had pulled out the arrow. How she then had a high fever the next morning and he had flown her to the village. She had widened her eyes at his tale. Incredulous, she blinked at him.

"You were in the village?" She couldn't imagine him in the village. I wonder if the people had run screaming. A slight smirk crept across her lips as she imagined this situation in her mind's eye.

"Yes, they ran away."

Her gaze went back to Piccolo. Had she said something? Her confusion must have been written all over her face because he replied, "You didn't say anything, but your thoughts were written all over your face."

An image flashed in her mind's eye of her lying on the bed, Piccolo next to her and them talking. "Have we had this conversation before?"

"The night before last. When I tried to fix you up."

Her eyes wandered from him, to the sofa, back again and then to the bedroom door. Little by little, the memory came back. Several questions ran through her mind. She didn't know which one to say first. "Thank you for saving me," was all she said.

Piccolo shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't want to test what would happen if you died. What if you drag me with you then?"

"Oh, okay." She looked quickly to the side. Had he saved her just for that? Wasn't there more? Had he only saved her out of self-preservation? Why was she even worrying about that?

"That herb woman, that Yumi, said you should keep your arm still for a few days. It's not broken. Then we can get started."

"Get started on what?"

"Hunt down the asshole who did this to you." Were the corners of his mouth turned up? She only saw it for a second before he turned away and walked out.

She didn't see Piccolo for the next two days. He left rabbits on her doorstep, which she prepared at the small kitchen counter, but did not show himself.

On the third day, her arm was much better. She could move it freely again, without pain. She put on her warm clothes and went out the door. Piccolo was standing next to her the moment she stepped outside.

"Ready?" he asked her with his arms folded in front of his chest.

Instead of an answer, she flew up and waited for him a few yards above the ground. He followed. They flew towards the mountains. They searched everything, every nook and cranny, every cave, but found nothing and no one. No sign that anyone had been here recently.

They flew on. Sitara had never flown in this direction before. Behind the mountains stretched fields and small forests. At some point a village appeared below them. It was smaller than the one where Sitara had been taken in. A few small huts were grouped around a square where a large fire was burning. The people gathered around the fire were wrapped in thick skins and sat close together to keep warm. Various weapons lay in front of them.

Sitara recognised axes and hatchets, as well as arrows and bows. Unnoticed, Sitara and Piccolo descended and landed next to one of the huts. They could eavesdrop on the conversations, but were not seen by the people.

The man who was talking had light hair and dark skin. A petite woman sat close to him, two small children cuddled up to her. All the other people sitting around the fire looked at him and listened to his words.

"It was the most beautiful and biggest bird I had ever seen. I had hit it, I am sure of it. I saw him fall. But I did not find him again in the mountains. I am sorry I did not find a rich prey for our sacred feast." The expressions of the others looked sombre, but also understanding.

"Then the case is clear," she heard Piccolo whisper behind her. She turned to him and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Nothing was clear to her. "The guy shot you down because he thought you were a bird. Did you fly very high?" Sitara nodded. "Then I'm going to get that guy now." Piccolo tried to march past her, but she held him. Surprised by her action, he allowed himself to be pulled back a few steps.

"You're not going to do that," she hissed at him.

"Why? He hurt you. He certainly won't do that again."

"Exactly. He won't do it again like that either. Without your growled warnings and such. Firstly, I can speak well for myself and secondly, he didn't know he'd shot me down. He thought I was a bird. He wanted to bring a feast for his village. He brought nothing of the sort. That is punishment enough."

Piccolo was about to retort, but she interrupted him with a wave of her arm. "We're flying back." Her tone brooked no words of woe. The green one glanced once more at the gathering of people and then nodded curtly.

Again unnoticed by the humans, the two rose into the air and flew away. Sitara flew ahead, Piccolo joining her shortly after. He pointed to the distant mountains. "Let's train in the mountains."

She looked at the mountain range, which was covered in snow. It had to be even much colder there than in the forest. And windier. "Why?"

"I'll show you something new."

She hoped they would at least move around a lot while they did it, because she was already shivering at the thought of the freezing temperatures on the mountain.

They landed on a small plain just below the highest peak of the mountain range. The wind was blowing hard and it felt like their skin was peeling off her face. Instantly Sitara wished she were back in her warm hut.

Piccolo didn't seem to mind the cold. He stood in front of her in his usual posture with his arms folded and looked her up and down. "Doesn't it bother you that you always wear those thick clothes? It restricts your movement, doesn't it? And you're still freezing."

Sitara could barely hear him over the wind and stepped closer to him so she wouldn't have to yell so. "Of course it bothers me, but what am I supposed to do about it?"

He had obviously been waiting for the question. "You can put your energy around you like a protective film. Go on, get undressed." Sitara couldn't believe her ears. She was supposed to undress here in this freezing cold? She would freeze to death.

As if reading her thoughts, Piccolo said, "The sooner you learn to focus your energy on the protective film, the sooner you'll get warm."

Sighing, she began to take off her coat. As he looked at her waiting, she also removed her thick boots and jumper. Barefoot, she stood trembling before Piccolo.

"Good. Now imagine how a part of your energy covers your whole body. You really only need a tiny part, as it is to lie permanently on you."

Sitara closed her eyes and tried to imagine what Piccolo had described. It was not easy. The wind tore at all the places that were not covered by fabric. From her feet, the cold crept into her necks. Her teeth chattered against each other and she couldn't suppress it. How was she supposed to concentrate?

Suddenly she felt a hand on her left shoulder, Piccolo's hand. Her shoulder grew warm and she opened her eyes. Piccolo had taken another step closer to her. "I know you can do it." Sitara nodded and tried again.

She saw her energy, which was in her centre, before her inner eyes. Taking a piece of it, she imagined that small piece of energy travelling up to her arm, up to her shoulder. Where Piccolo still had his hand. The grain of energy emerged from her next to Piccolo's hand, spread out, and laid itself over her arm like a second skin. Instantly she felt no more cold there, no more wind. It was warm. It felt as if her arm was on a summer's day and the rest of her body still on the mountain top in the depths of winter.

"That's it. Keep going!" Piccolo's encouragement helped her keep going. She managed to put the protective film over the rest of her body as well. It felt wonderful. She could move freely in the cold. Piccolo smiled. A sincere smile. "Very good." And then another praise. She was speechless.

"How about some new clothes?" Piccolo took a step back, aimed his palm at her. Magic crackled. Her shabby trousers and top glistened open, disappeared, and a suit formed on her body. It was the spitting image of Piccolo's suit with matching shoes. A blue belt was around her middle. Only the cape was missing. But since she didn't find that particularly practical either, she didn't mourn it.

Sitara looked at her new outfit from all sides. Then she looked at Piccolo. "Wait a minute. Could you have been doing this all along?"

He nodded. "And could you have shown me how to protect myself against the cold a long time ago?" Another nod.

Sitara growled in frustration, bent down, picked up a handful of snow and hurled it at his face. It hit. She blinked. Piccolo blinked between the snow. He was obviously surprised that she had hit.

Sitara started to laugh. First she giggled behind her hand, then she got louder until she had to hold her stomach laughing. The next moment there was snow on her face. She paused. She had to listen carefully. Piccolo was actually laughing. He was laughing uproariously. She had never heard that sound before. She liked it.

Sitara threw another snowball at Piccolo and this time hit him on the shoulder. He returned the favour immediately. The next moment a snowball fight broke out between the two. Sitara kept dodging the snowballs, but with each manoeuvre she was pushed back a little to the edge of the cliff.

Piccolo threw, Sitara made a lunge and wanted to duck at the same time, but her right leg found no support. For a moment she seemed to hover over the edge of the rock, one leg in the air, the other still on the rock, the next moment she sank down.

She was so surprised that her brain was still working when her fall suddenly ended again with a jolt. Piccolo was hanging over the edge of the cliff and had grabbed her arm. It had all happened very quickly and her head was still caught up in the moment of falling when she looked up into his face. "You do know you can fly, don't you?" he asked her with a sneer.

"I was just testing your reaction." Instead of a retort, Piccolo pulled her up swinging, let go at the highest point and was under her in the next moment. He had caught her with both arms.

"What do you think of my reaction time?"

"Pretty good." She smiled at him. It was a completely new side she was getting to know about him today. She was surprised. He had always been secretive, taciturn, never laughed. In all the time she had been with him, he had smiled from time to time, but always with a condescending expression in his eyes. The smile she saw on his lips now reached his eyes and seemed warm, almost heartfelt.

Instead of setting her down on the rock, he flew off. "Where are you going?"

"Home. Knowing you, you must be hungry." The surprises didn't stop. Caring now, too. Maybe she was dreaming too and would wake up in a moment. As long as the dream was still so beautiful, though, she would enjoy it. Slowly she relaxed in his arms and rested her head against his upper body. He felt warm and she could feel his heartbeat. His scent also rose to her nose again. Piccolo smelled like the forest where she had lived for over a year now. Her home.