The cold empty space

He had grown used to it. The constant silence born from the absence of anyone else. His throat was dry from disuse, as he had not spoken in a very long time.

His breath formed small clouds of mist as he walked through the forest. Snow covered the broken logs scattered along the path, the trees were cloaked in a white blanket, and the entire landscape seemed permanently illuminated in white by the sunlight reflecting off the ice.

That was when he found her.

He stopped dead in his tracks, astonished. Half-buried beneath the snow and fallen foliage lay a young woman who appeared to be around his age, though there was something rather unusual about her appearance. Her hair was white and coily, soiled with damp earth, and her skin was a pale blue, like the faint reflection of the sky above them.

Unlike him, dressed in thick clothing with a heavy coat and a fur hat, she wore linen garments, far too summery for the current weather.

The figure moved. She was trembling. She was alive.

He had not seen another living being in a while, let alone one so physically different from himself.

Quickly, he approached her and crouched down, prepared to check for any injuries or wounds. He touched her skin and, to his surprise, it was warm. The young woman opened her eyes at his touch and shuddered, attempting in vain to hide once more in her hollow.

He reacted quickly, holding out his hands and gesturing in an effort to reassure her.

He wanted to speak, to tell her, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” but the words would not come. It had been so long since he had spoken aloud. When he tried to say something, only a grunt escaped him.

The girl studied his expression and seemed to decide that he posed no threat, for she allowed him to help her to her feet.

It was obvious that she did not belong there. Not only because of her unique features, but also because of the way she looked around her and the way she looked at him. She seemed as though she had been transported to that very spot very recently.

Yet she showed no fear. Curious, she walked beside him back to his shelter in the middle of the forest.

The cabin was small, consisting of a single room. In one corner stood a small fireplace that also served as a stove for cooking. In another stood the large tub he filled with water for bathing, and elsewhere there was an armchair and a bed.

He rummaged beneath his bed and pulled out several blankets while his new guest stood expectantly in the middle of the room.

He offered her one, and she accepted it, astonished by the kindness. She smiled as she wrapped it around herself. He did not know how to return the expression. It felt as though his facial muscles had lost their flexibility.

So instead, he busied himself with the fire, stoking it so that the warmth might spread more fully throughout the cabin.

Hours later, after complete silence during which they had communicated through gestures, the girl extended her hand and said:

“Moira.”

He shook it. Clearing his throat loudly, he heard his own voice for the first time in ages as he said:

“Kolt.”

Moira smiled at him, though she could not hide her surprise.

“Kolt, you’re freezing cold.”

***

Over the following weeks, warmth remained in the cabin. Despite the cold, icy image Moira evoked, her presence had brought quite the opposite to Kolt’s way of life.

Until then, he had always been rather sensitive to the cold. No matter how carefully he sealed every gap in his small dwelling, he could always feel a draught reaching him. There was always one side of the bed that remained ice-cold, and his hands never seemed able to retain warmth for long.

But Moira knew how to keep the fire burning for hours. She made wax lamps and placed them throughout the cabin. When they read books, she shared her blanket with him so she could transfer some of her own warmth. She helped prepare the hottest meals, and although he slept on the floor, it felt warm and comfortable beneath the blankets and cushions.

As the days passed, his voice grew clearer. He rediscovered the sound of his own laughter and found himself talking for hours without tiring in the slightest.

“Where I come from, it’s always spring,” Moira told him when he asked about her origins.

“And how did you end up here?”

Moira shrugged.

“Perhaps I was meant to be here.”

Kolt had never imagined he would find companionship in that desolate place. Winter was long, and people rarely passed through. He had been stuck there, with no ties to anyone, and he doubted that anyone even remembered he existed.

Until he met Moira, his plan had been to remain in that frozen corner of the forest until he quietly faded away, disturbing neither the peace nor the harmony of the surroundings.

But now he lived for laughter - his own and hers. For the “good mornings” they exchanged upon waking, and for the songs they hummed while gathering mushrooms among the frost-covered grass.

Kolt first noticed the changes when the snow began to melt.

When the birds started appearing more often and their songs grew louder with each passing day. When the woodland creatures emerged from their hiding places, their hibernation at an end.

Moira returned to her linen clothes, and Kolt set aside his fur coats. They could now fish in the thawed lake near the cabin.

Kolt had adopted Moira’s habit of talking to the animals they encountered during their walks through the forest. He had also grown accustomed to sitting on the grass for a while after she returned to the cabin. He had developed a particular fondness for the new sounds of nature around him.

One morning, Kolt awoke from his improvised bed on the floor. The sun had been lingering longer than usual, making the nights very short. Its rays shone directly onto his face.

Moira was not in her bed.

He called her name repeatedly. He left the cabin, barefoot on the fresh green grass, continuing to call for her.

Then he noticed that a path once hidden beneath layers of snow now lay uncovered, leading towards a different part of the forest. As he walked, the trees became more varied and unlike any he had seen before. More flowers lined the way. In the distance, he could hear the voices of people.

The trees eventually gave way to what appeared to be the edge of a village. Far away, he could see children playing outside their homes. Astonished, he looked back to see the path by which he had come, but it had vanished completely.

He heard his name being called. Turning around, he saw Moira, her white hair braided and a smile lighting her blue-toned face.

Relieved, Kolt hugged her.

They drew apart but kept hold of each other’s hands. It was then that Kolt realised his own skin had taken on the same pale blue hue.

Moira winked at him and remarked:

“Your hands are very warm now.”

But it was not only that. As she led him towards her village and what would now be his permanent home, Kolt felt warmth radiating from within his chest. There were no longer any cold, empty spaces.

And he was no longer alone.