“You are from across the sea, yet have the blood of our people running deep in your veins.”
Agata nodded, even though it was clear this woman was blind. But she didn’t seem like she was unable to see, and in fact stared right at Agata as if she could make out the very pores on her flesh.
“But I sense something deeper inside of you, child.” The blind woman placed a hand right over her heart and closed her eyes. “You are from a city of metal and glass, surrounded by people, and yet you are isolated. Your heart yearns for rock and Earth, of being alone yet cared for.”
Agata was shocked, stunned that this woman knew anything about her.
“Come with me.” She turned and started moving through the crowd, and Agata looked around. The woman stopped, but didn’t look back, and Agata moved forward.
This was insane, but she was curious as to what the woman wanted to talk to her about, curious as to how she knew she wasn’t from this country when Agata hadn’t said one word to her. But she found herself moving closer, and when the old woman started walking again Agata followed her into this small straw hut that looked like it had been erected for this evening. It fit the whole old world feel the entire village had been going for tonight. In the center of the hut sat a small fire. Rocks surrounded the flames; hides were thrown over chairs, and feathers hung from the ceiling.
“Sit, child.” The older woman gestured to one of the seats, and when Agata was sitting across from her the older woman held her hands out. “Let me touch your flesh, see the lines in your palm, and tell you what I know.”
This had to be something they did when they spotted tourists. Hell, Agata had spoken to a few people when she’d first gotten to the village. Maybe the older woman had been watching her then? Agata held her hands out, playing along. The older woman grabbed her wrists and placed her hands palm up. Then she leaned forward, stared at her hand, ran her finger along the crease of Agata’s palm, and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back slightly.
“You are not happy, are you, my child?”
Agata looked behind her, seeing the party still commencing, and wondered how far she’d let this go. Although she didn’t know if she believed in fortunetellers, or seers, she knew that the people in this region, in this area of the country and world, practiced different beliefs that they followed with their whole souls. “I’m sure most people are not happy.”
She set her hands in her lap and looked down at the flames, letting the old woman’s words play through her head. The truth was she wasn’t happy. Agata didn’t think she’d ever really been happy before. She’d moved through life, doing what she had to do, what she needed to do. She was utterly alone in this world despite being surrounded by people all the time. Coworkers were not friends, not ones she’d grown up with, formed bonds with. Maybe it was her own doing, where her life was now, and maybe that was reflected outward.
“No, you are not, and no need to tell me. I can see it written across your face, and pouring from you like blood from an open wound.” The old woman leaned forward again, and when she waved her hand in front of the fire a sweet smelling smoke started to rise up. Had she dropped something into the flames to cause such a scent and sight? It certainly would make sense.
“You are not made for this life, for this time, child.” She reached to the side and grabbed a small satchel. It was dark leather, scarred and worn, and when the woman emptied the herb contents out in her hand and gave it to Agata, she was hesitant.
“What is it?”
“There is the In-Between.” She took Agata’s wrist again, turned her hand over and dumped the contents in her palm. “There is a world where past and present meet, an alternative universe of such.” She took a glass of water, made Agata dump the contents into the cup, and gestured for her to drink it.
“I don’t know what this is. I can’t drink it.”
“Child, if you want change, want to live, then you must. It won’t harm you, and will only bring you closer to who you are meant to be, meant to be with.” The old woman placed her fingers on the bottom of the cup and pushed it toward Agata’s mouth. “If you are not happy, then place your trust in the gods.”
Agata stared at the woman’s eyes, at the way they seemed to watch her, study her.
“You must ask the gods to show you where your path is, how it will be revealed, and learn from that. Open your arms, your heart, and accept it.” The woman started chanting in an old Scandinavian dialect, one Agata wasn’t familiar with, but could pick up on a few words. It was almost like three separate countries’ languages put together, melded into one unique sound.