“I don’t remember living with people,” she said softly.

He offered his hand, and after a pause she took it. “We’ll manage together.”

They entered the village, drawing curious stares. An older woman, folding laundry on a porch, looked them over with sharp eyes. Her name was Ruth Callahan, the local nurse, and when she heard Noah’s halting account, she ushered them inside. The small house smelled of bread and woodsmoke; a stove glowed warmly in the corner.

Harper sat stiffly at the table, eyes roaming over framed photographs and the ticking wall clock as if they were artifacts from another world. Ruth fed them hot stew, and the warmth began to seep into Noah’s bones.

Soon Ruth’s husband, Thomas, arrived and called the county seat. A deputy named Marla Jennings appeared later that evening, accompanied by an investigator, Dean Hollis. They listened carefully as Noah explained his abduction and the days that followed.

“And the girl?” Dean asked, his gaze falling on Harper.

“She saved my life,” Noah said without hesitation.

When they learned Harper’s only family—her mother—had left years ago, Marla explained that child services would have to place her in temporary care. Harper’s grip on Noah’s sleeve tightened at those words.

“She stays with me,” Noah said firmly. “At least until we sort this out.”

Dean shook his head at first, citing procedures, but after a long pause Marla agreed to grant Noah a week’s temporary custody, provided he completed all legal checks.

Later, when the officials left, Ruth offered them a place to sleep for the night. Harper sat on the edge of the cot Ruth had prepared, clutching her worn satchel.

“You okay?” Noah asked quietly.

Her answer was honest. “It’s… strange here. Too many people. Too many questions.”

Noah understood. “We’ll take it one day at a time. You’re not alone anymore.”