"?????????'? ??????"

The day passed quietly in the cabin. I spent most of it reading, playing with the few toys I had, and chatting with my mother. She kept a watchful eye on me, always making sure I was safe and not getting into any trouble. The thought of the outside world and its dangers still lingered in her mind, but she tried to push it aside and focus on the present moment.

As the sun began to set, she looked up from the book she was reading and turned her full attention to me.

"You know, I've been thinking..." she said, her tone contemplative. She placed the book on the table beside her and folded her hands in her lap.

I looked up from the toy I was playing with and tilted my head, curiosity bubbling inside me. I could sense she had something important to say.

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on me. Her expression was both serious and thoughtful.

"I know how much you want to explore and see the outside world," she began. "And I can see that staying here all the time is making you restless. So I was thinking... maybe we could try something."

My heart skipped a beat. Hope flickered to life as I straightened up and waited for her to continue.

She smiled, noticing my eagerness. "How would you feel about starting some sort of 'adventure' inside the cabin? Something that will help you explore and learn about the outside world while still keeping you safe?"

"What kind of adventure?" I asked, my curiosity fully piqued.

Her smile widened. "We could start with educational activities—reading books about different places, learning languages, watching documentaries about the world... Maybe we can even use your special abilities as a learning tool."

My eyes widened. The idea of learning about the world safely from the comfort of the cabin excited me. "That sounds amazing, Mom!" I exclaimed.

She laughed softly at my enthusiasm. "I'm glad you like the idea, sweetheart. We can start today, if you'd like."

"Yes, please! I want to start now!"

"Alright," she said, though her tone grew more serious. "We'll start today, but let's take it slowly. This is about learning and enjoying the process—not rushing through everything."

"Okay," I agreed, nodding.

We started with geography. Over the next week, I devoured books, watched documentaries, and used every moment to absorb information about different countries, cultures, and histories. My young mind soaked up knowledge like a sponge.

One evening, after noticing how quickly I was moving through the material, my mother sat down beside me, concern etched on her face.

"Sweetheart, you've been learning at an impressive rate," she said, her tone both loving and worried. "But I'm afraid you might be pushing yourself too hard."

"I'm fine, Mom," I replied, determined. "I want to learn more."

She sighed and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know you do. But you can't rush through everything without taking the time to really understand and absorb it. Think of it like eating all your candy at once—you might enjoy it for a moment, but soon you'll feel sick."

Her analogy resonated with me. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Okay. I'll slow down."

"That's my smart little one," she said with a smile. "This is about enjoying the journey, not racing to the end."

That night, she tucked me into bed, her touch warm and comforting. "Good night, sweetheart," she whispered, stroking my hair. "I'm proud of you for listening to me."

"Good night, Mommy." I mumbled, my voice sleepy. "I'll slow down tomorrow."

I drifted off, dreaming of colorful landscapes and vibrant cultures. The cabin was quiet, the crackle of the fireplace the only sound.

But the peace didn’t last.

A loud banging on the door shattered the silence. My mother’s head snapped up, her body tense as she turned toward the noise. Visitors were rare—especially at this hour.

She rose from her chair and approached the door cautiously, her breath quickening. The banging came again, insistent and unnerving.

"Who is it?" she called out, her voice shaky but firm.

No answer came, only the sound of heavy breathing on the other side.

Steeling herself, she slowly opened the door. The cold night air rushed in, revealing a tall man standing on the porch. His face was shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, his overcoat dusted with snow.

"I'm looking for someone," he said, his voice low and chilling.

My mother gripped the edge of the door, her knuckles white. "Who are you looking for?" she demanded, her tone cold and guarded.

"Someone very special," he replied, his gaze shifting past her into the cabin.

Her heart raced, the air in her lungs turning cold as dread seeped into her chest. This wasn’t a coincidence—she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. The man’s words, dripping with sinister intent, struck a chord deep within her, one that screamed danger.

Her eyes darted toward the shadows of the porch, searching for any sign of his purpose. The way he stood, deliberate yet casual, sent a warning through her instincts. He wasn’t just here by chance. He had come with a purpose—and that purpose was me.