The Place Between Worlds

Eldan sat cross-legged on the log beside the quiet firepit, hands cupped around a small clay bowl. The ash inside was cold now, long since burned out. Morning frost clung to the outer ring of stones, but neither man seemed to notice.

Vince stood nearby, arms folded, one foot resting on a crooked root. He wasn't watching the sky or the trees. Just Eldan. Studying him the way you might study a bridge before trusting your weight to it.

"You wake early," Eldan said, glancing up.

Vince gave a small shrug. "I don't sleep much."

A beat of silence. Then Eldan tapped his chest with two fingers, circled them toward Vince. A gesture familiar by now.

"You think again," he said, half-smiling.

Vince nodded. "Always."

Another silence. The kind that didn't feel empty.

Then Vince stepped forward, crouched by the stones. Picked up a stick and scratched a rough diagram in the dirt — a circle, a square beside it, a line branching from both.

"I think," he said slowly, pointing as he spoke, "village... needs shape. Not just huts. Shape here." He tapped his chest. Then tapped the ground.

Eldan leaned forward, eyes narrowed, following. "Shape?"

"Order," Vince said. "Work, role, plan."

Eldan watched him. His brow furrowed. Then he nodded — slow.

"You say before. We make trench, we fix water, we build strong. But now... you talk different."

Vince looked up. "Now... I think more. Not just ground. People. Who lead, who follow. Who cook, who fight, who fix."

Eldan exhaled. He sat back, brushing ash off his hands.

"You lead," he said plainly.

Vince shook his head.

"No. I help. I know things. That's all."

Eldan pointed at the dirt. Then to the huts behind them. Then to Vince.

"You move first. Always. People see."

"I don't want..." Vince began, then paused. He scratched the back of his neck. The words didn't come easy.

"I not want be chief. Boss."

"Why?"

"Because..." Vince looked away. "This not my place. Not my people."

Eldan was quiet a moment.

Then he signed slowly — hands careful, clear.

"Matriarch gone. People have no eye now. No center. I am old. Too slow. You... not born here. But you stand when cold comes. You see things we don't. You build things. People watch."

Vince's jaw tensed. "They don't trust me."

"They will. They call you Veshan. That means more than friend. Means... hand in storm."

Vince rubbed at his face. The morning chill had faded, but he felt heavier now than before.

"You sure?" he asked.

Eldan nodded.

"You lead even when you say no. So choose how."

Vince didn't answer. He just sat, eyes on the charcoal lines in the dirt, as if something might rise from them — some map, some answer.

He didn't want this.

And yet, something in him had already begun moving toward it.

Not for power. Not for pride.

But because order meant survival.

And survival was the only promise he knew how to keep.

Vince paced a slow circle through the packed earth near the tool shed, hands behind his back, shoulders tense. The snow was no longer falling, but its memory still clung to everything—slush in the crevices, frost in the shadows, heaviness in the air.

Eldan leaned against a beam, arms crossed, watching him with quiet patience.

"I fix things," Vince muttered. "I build. Dig. Plan. That's enough."

Eldan didn't speak at first. Then, softly: "Not for them."

Vince turned, brow furrowed. "Them?"

"I spoke to the others," Eldan said. "Before I came to you. Branik. Maela. Rhosyn. The ones who remember the Matriarch's ways. Even the quiet ones."

He stepped forward, his hands moving with the signs to underline each point.

They agree. You lead. You already lead. They wait for your word.

Vince let that sit in the cold air between them.

"I never said yes."

"You didn't have to," Eldan said. "They see what you do. How you work. How you think. They follow already."

Vince exhaled hard, staring out toward the trees. "This is not my place. Not my people."

Eldan gave a faint smile. "It is now. You're not from here—I know that. You won't say where, but I see it. Still, here you are. You stayed. You bled. You helped."

Vince turned back to him, slower this time. "If I lead…" His voice dropped, and he used sign with the next words: There must be order.

Eldan nodded. "Order is survival."

"Not just rules. Roles. Purpose. Work. No wandering. No guessing. Everyone knows their place."

"And their weight," Eldan added. "Yes."

Vince stepped closer. "But I cannot speak for all. Not yet. My words…" he tapped his chest, "…still broken."

"Then I speak for you," Eldan said plainly.

Vince looked him over. "You sure?"

"I already do it," Eldan said. "Now it just has name."

Vince narrowed his eyes. "One thing. You speak for me… it means we are one voice. Even if we argue—only inside. Out there—" he gestured toward the village, "—we are the same."

Eldan gave a slow, solemn nod. "Like hand and shadow. Always same shape."

Vince was quiet for a moment.

"I bring order," he said finally. "And order must be followed."

Eldan held his gaze. "Then speak it. I'll carry it."

They walked slowly toward the central clearing, the wind thinner now, as if even the season was beginning to listen. Vince stopped near the packed-earth hearth where a few stones had been unearthed from the melt. He squatted beside them and began sketching in the dirt with a stick, lines branching out from a single center point.

Eldan watched, arms crossed, waiting.

"This is plan," Vince said. His voice was basic, but firmer now—clearer. He used his hand to help sign the meaning as he spoke. "Not only huts. Not only fire. Structure."

He tapped the center. "One leader. One voice. Not many. Not mix."

Eldan tilted his head. "Not vote?"

Vince shook his head. "Can speak. Can think. But outside—only one voice. Or people break."

Eldan thought, then nodded. "Understand."

Vince drew four spokes outward from the center. "Four arms. Four voice-leaders. One for speak. One for guard. One for work. One for heal."

He pointed to the first. "Speak. Like you. Advisor. Right hand. Help talk. Help tell. Leader speak—this one speak too. Same words. Same meaning."

Eldan was silent, then said, "If you ask me... I do it."

Vince gave a nod. Not thanks—acknowledgment.

Second spoke. "Guard. Protect. See danger. Forest. Fire. Night. This one make people feel safe."

Eldan signed. "Branik."

"Yes," Vince said. "But must think fast. Not just strong."

Third spoke. "Work. Build. Dig. Fire. Food. All hands. This one lead work, see what need first."

"Maela," Eldan said, without pause.

Vince agreed. "She think with eyes. She move people. Good."

Then the last. "Healer. Heart. Sick. Story. Old ways. Lost now. We must find one who listen and help."

Eldan hesitated. "Hard. After Matriarch, people afraid to try. But we search."

Vince drew a ring around them. "These speak to leader. In circle. Not above. Not below. But all follow same path."

Eldan signed. "Disagree inside. One voice outside."

Vince echoed it with his own hands. "Yes. Always."

The wind kicked up dust across the lines in the dirt. Vince didn't brush it away.

Eldan stepped closer. "You lead... we follow."

Vince looked down at the smudged pattern. "If I lead... order must stay. Not rule with fear. But with line. Clear. Strong."

Eldan said, "We need that."

Vince stood. "We build trench. We build hut. Now, we build bones."

Eldan smiled faintly. "They will listen, Veshan."

Vince did not smile. But he nodded, once.

"They must."