Elian stepped through the door.
She found herself standing beside the well in her village.
The houses were where she remembered them. The church stood at the end of the street. Beyond it, the wall ran along the hillside, its stones dark with age.
A woman was drawing water.
She looked up.
“Good morning,” she said.
Elian recognised her, though she could not remember from where.
“Is this my village?”
The woman lowered the bucket.
“Is it?”
Elian looked towards the wall.
There was a small door in it.
She walked towards it, but the woman called after her.
“Have you forgotten something?”
Elian turned.
The woman held out a little wooden bird.
Elian took it.
On its underside was a carved door.
“Where did you find it?”
The woman pointed towards the well.
Elian looked down into the water.
For a moment she saw the village reflected there. Then the reflection changed. She saw the garden, the house beside the river, the room with the table, and Marra standing by the window.
Marra lifted a hand.
Elian lifted hers.
The water became still.
She turned towards the woman.
“Will I see them again?”
The woman picked up her bucket.
“You have seen them.”
Elian waited.
The woman smiled.
“Perhaps you mean somewhere else.”
Elian walked on.
At the wall she found the little door. It stood open. Beyond it was the garden, with the tree and the bench beneath it.
The woman with the basket was there.
So was the man in the brown coat.
The builder sat beside him, his hammer resting across his knees. Marra stood by the pond, watching the water.
The little girl was skipping stones.
Elian stepped into the garden.
Nobody seemed surprised to see her.
“Have you come home?” Marra asked.
Elian looked back towards the village.
“I think so.”
Marra nodded.
“Good.”
They walked together towards the house.
The door stood open. Inside, the table was set. There were five chairs, and five cups.
Elian counted them.
“Who's missing?”
Marra looked towards the window.
“No one.”
They sat down.
The woman with the basket cut the bread. The man in the brown coat poured the water. The builder passed the plate to the little girl, who put it in the centre of the table.
For a while they ate.
Then Elian noticed a small door beneath the table.
She bent down.
It was no larger than her hand.
“What's that for?” she asked.
Marra looked beneath the table.
“Oh,” she said. “That's the way out.”
Elian straightened.
“Out of where?”
Marra looked around the room.
“Here.”
Elian considered this.
Then she laughed.
The little girl slid from her chair and opened the small door.
Beyond it was a field.
A path crossed the grass towards a distant village. At the edge of the field stood a wall, and in the wall was a door.
A figure was approaching.
Elian leaned closer.
It was a woman carrying a basket.
The woman stopped at the door and looked towards the house.
She seemed to be waiting for someone.
Elian turned to Marra.
“Should we invite her in?”
Marra broke the bread.
“I think she knows the way.”
Outside, the wind moved through the trees.
The river flowed past the garden.
Somewhere beyond the wall, a door opened.
And in the house, nobody noticed when the table grew a little longer.
When Elian looked up, there was another cup beside her own.
She smiled.
Nobody asked who it was for.
The End.
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