SpoilerMaga is historically called the person who is skilled in alchymy, ter called a witch.

  [colpse]Lia couldn’t tear her gaze away from Cra, who, uninterested in Lia’s attention, was suppressing an urge to drink her blood. Cra stepped away to retrieve her clothes and put them on. Meanwhile, Lia, no stranger to preparing fish, skilfully cleaned the three trout, readying them to be cooked. Cra slipped into her night robe, which was badly damaged. Deciding it was beyond repair, she tore off the ruined parts, leaving herself with a short, mostly intact dress.

  Cra didn’t care much about her appearance or whether she was fully clothed, but she knew that having normal attire was necessary to avoid drawing attention. A pounding headache overwhelmed her, a mess that had begun the moment she became a vampire. Still, the opportunity to go to the mountain vilge, especially as a doctor, filled her with joy. She pondered how to use the knowledge of surgical operations she’d gained from René’s blood. It was a strange understanding crowding her mind, but she feared she’d forget most of it soon.

  Soon, Pietro returned from the river. When he saw Cra, he wasn’t pleased. The sight of her alone with Lia made him break out in a cold sweat.

  “I brought you dinner,” Cra said. “Once it’s ready, help Isabel eat. I’m going to look around for a while.”

  Cra lost interest in Lia, while Pietro, despite being the one who’d invited Cra to join them on their journey to the vilge, was now desperate to be rid of her. Feeling more exhausted than ever, Cra slipped into the forest to find a pce to sleep. Moving through the vegetation, she found a hidden spot about a kilometre from the campsite. She covered herself with a bnket and fell asleep.

  In what felt like a blink, morning arrived, waking Cra and leaving her increasingly frustrated. The thought of a full day traveling with Lia and Pietro, not to mention finding something to eat, was utterly exhausting. When she returned to the camp, she saw Isabel awake, eating leftovers from the night before.

  “Cra, where have you been?” Isabel asked. Though still weak, she tried to stand as she saw Cra but couldn’t manage it.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Pietro said. “Help set up the horse, and we’ll leave.” He didn’t seem to notice Cra’s anger. Unable to pull the cart alone, he went to prepare the horse.

  Cra lifted the cart’s handles so Pietro could hitch the horse. He worked quickly, and once everything was ready, Cra loaded Isabel onto the cart and climbed aboard. The cart soon began to move, and they set off on the final leg of their journey.

  Half a day ter, they arrived at a small vilge nestled in the hills near the river. The vilge consisted of several dozen stone houses with thatched or wooden roofs, some partially fortified to protect against raiders. Narrow, dusty paths connected the homes, small fields, and a rge number of olive trees and vineyards all around.

  As their cart rolled into the vilge, the vilgers hurried to greet them, overjoyed at their arrival. Lia leapt from the cart and ran to embrace her mother. The atmosphere in the vilge was at its peak, and the vilgers swarmed around the cart, looking happier than Cra had expected. Their joy at seeing Lia and Pietro safely return brought more warmth to the vilge than Cra had anticipated. She quietly slipped away, leaving Isabel on the cart, and let the vilgers celebrate.

  Cra left the others to take care of Isabel, who still cked the strength to go with her, and moved deeper into the mountains, shielding herself from direct sunlight thanks to the trees. The pleasant smell of olive trees enveloped Cra on her way, so she stopped not far from the vilge and sat under one of the trees.

  The olive tree wasn’t very effective at hiding her from the sun, but even partial shade was far more pleasant than direct sunlight. The hillside wasn’t densely vegetated, so Cra wasn’t overly concerned about the vilgers, though she felt a strange unease for some reason.

  Looking down from the hill at the river, she felt a wave of mencholy about her time in Venice, but this pleasant feeling was shattered by something unusual. Out of nowhere, Cra detected a strange smell she had never encountered before. She looked around but found nothing out of the ordinary. However, as the unpleasant smell persisted, Cra began searching for its source.

  She quickly ran through the vegetation, her legs suffering more than ever as dried grass and other pnts tore at the skin on her bare feet. She had no way to protect herself, and the smell of the unknown grew stronger. Moving closer to the strange scent, Cra suddenly stopped when she spotted someone. It was an old woman in tattered clothes simir to her own, picking moss from the trees.

  The old woman was emitting this strange smell, which made Cra wary, and she didn’t move any closer.

  “What are you looking for, Maga?” Cra asked, forgoing any formality. She knew well that the woman was likely an outcast of the vilge, yet her role as a healer made her an important part of the community.

  “I’m collecting herbs for ointments, vampire!” the woman replied, equally blunt. Being in the presence of a vampire just after broad daylight was certainly a bad omen, especially since Cra made no effort to hide herself.

  “What brings you to our peaceful vilge?” Maga continued to pick moss, but Cra could sense her growing nervousness; her heart was pounding rapidly.

  “It seems this strange smell isn’t poisonous or dangerous to me, otherwise you’d be more confident,” Cra observed, watching Maga like a snake, probing to learn as much about her as possible.

  “Huff. Huff. What are your real intentions, vampire? Why did you come to Montebonello?” Maga asked, slowly rising from her knees to look directly at Cra. Unlike the typical elders Cra had seen in her life, Maga’s face was covered with wrinkles and warts.

  “Are you trying to find out who I am?” Maga countered, also probing Cra. Standing against a vampire who seemed unbothered by day or night was something she had never heard of.

  “I’ll stay here for some time until the hunters are called off or killed by someone,” Cra replied.

  “Hunters?” Maga’s question puzzled Cra, prompting her to step closer.

  Lia