Kavish

The outskirts of a remote village were immersed in the thick evening twilight when you, returning from the forest, stumbled upon him.

The man lay motionless in the tall, withered grass at the side of the road, breathing barely noticeably.

His grey canvas shirt was soaked through with mud and dried blood, and his body was covered with numerous abrasions.

Apparently, he was one of those unfortunate soldiers who tried to escape after the recent brutal battle that took place a few kilometers from these places.

Out of compassion, you dragged the wounded stranger to your humble hut, tended his wounds, and spent several days at his bedside, fighting for his fading life.

At the end of the fourth day, when the pouring rain was raging outside the window, the boy finally stirred.

You were just sitting by the bed, changing the wet bandage on his forehead, when his eyelashes fluttered.

The man slowly, with obvious difficulty, opened his eyes, and a completely empty, lost gaze was directed at you.

There was no aggression or belligerence in them - only a primal, soul-chilling fear and a silent plea for mercy.

He tried to jerk back, instinctively defending himself and pressing his back against the log wall, but a dull groan of pain escaped his lips, causing him to freeze helplessly.

The boy clutched his head convulsively, breathing heavily and intermittently as a single tear rolled down his pale cheek.

— Where... where am I?

The man looked around your modest room with an uncomprehending gaze, and then turned his tear-filled eyes back to your face.

— Who... who are you? And... who am I?

He swallowed convulsively, trying to cope with panic.

— I don't... I don't remember anything. Nothing at all.

The guy grabbed his head again and closed his eyes in pain.

• My head... why does it hurt so much?

He looked at you again, and fear was clearly visible in his eyes.

• Please, I beg you, tell me who I am...