“This is the real Polovia,” Nolan says. “Farms as far as the eye can see, and villages where people are born, live, and die for generations. I bet there are farmers that have never left their farmland for more than a day or two.”
“I can’t believe a place like that still exists,” I say.
“It does, but it’s gotten better. We have universal healthcare. Everyone is taken care of, no matter what. We have a social safety net that rivals anything in Europe, and people are mostly happy. Our enemies want to end that.”
I can’t imagine anyone wanting to change this countryside. As we drive, I see more and more the beauty that is Polovia. There’s almost nothing like this back home, where big businesses have already gotten rid of all the small farmers and any natural beauty. Polovia looks untouched, like it has been for the last million years. And here, people still own their own businesses.
“Take a look at this.” Nolan starts to slow down before slowly pulling off the road.
“What are you doing?” I ask him. It doesn’t look like there’s anywhere for us to go. Trees line either side of the pavement.
But a few more feet and a small gap in the trees opens up. It’s a simple dirt road, and Nolan pulls the car down it.
“I bet you don’t have anything like this back in America,” he says.
“Not really,” I admit.
We drive down the dirt road, enough for one car at best, with enormous, ancient trees surrounding us on both sides. I roll down my window and I want to reach out and grab the trees, but I know that would be stupid. Instead, I breathe the deep, musky smell of the forest.
Nolan grins at me. “This is a national park,” he says. “Well, we call them royal parks here, but it’s the same thing as your American parks.”
“It’s protected land,” I say.
“Very ancient,” he answers, staring straight ahead. “Some of the oldest parts of our country can trace their origins to this forest.”
“What’s it called?”
“Bellendarf,” he says.
“Ugly word.” I make a face.
He laughs. “Maybe to your unrefined ears,” he says. “But to me, it’s the most beautiful word in the world.” He cranes his neck, looking ahead. “There we go.”
I watch as we pull slowly into an enormous clearing. It’s at least two football fields in size, and in the middle of it, is a strange stone structure. Nolan parks the car and shuts down the engine.
“Come on,” he says, getting out.
“Wait, what is this?”
“The reason this forest is a park.” He walks forwards and I have to hustle to get out of the car and catch up.
He takes my hand as I get up next to him. We walk closer and closer, and I realize that the stone structure is enormous. It’s the size of Stonehenge, but instead of all crumbled and broken, this one looks complete.
“Wow,” I say, sucking in a breath. Each stone is the size of a pickup truck and probably weighs even more. They’re stacked on top of each other like Legos, forming a loose circle.
Nolan walks through them, absently brushing his hand across the stone. I follow him, eyes wide. I can’t believe we can just walk right in here like it’s nothing. Stonehenge is protected and you can barely even get close to it, but this place is literally open to anyone.
We walk right into the center of the stone circle where an altar rises four feet up off the ground. It’s a solid block of stone, with a bowl-like central basin. Images are carved into the sides: a fish, a fox, an owl, some kind of deer or elk.
“Here it is,” Nolan says.
“What is it?”
He shrugs. “Nobody knows. Well, people have guesses. Probably some kind of ritual place.”
“Religious,” I say.
“It’s older than anything else around here. Nobody knows who built it, or for what purpose. There’s nothing else quite like it in this whole region.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, walking around the bowl.
“Polovia is more than what you’ve seen,” he says. “I want you to know this country, Hazel. You’re a part of it now.”
I run my hands along the stone as I walk and the sense of history hits me like a bus. I feel overwhelmed. I’m a part of this royal family now, and it stretches further back into history than I can imagine. Then there’s this stone structure, older even than that, right in the middle of this park. I can actually touch it and imagine the people that put it here, the dreams they had when they were living, the world they inherited and the world they left.
Nolan appears next to me and gently pushes me back against a stone column. I gasp as he grabs my hips and kisses me softly, pinning me against the stone. He grabs my wrists and holds them tight, not letting me go.