Protector from Afar ✔️

Chapter 5 - Art - Wine of Life

Art - Wine of Life

The melodious call of an owl fell silent. I breathed into my stomach and held the wooden sword in front of me with both hands at chest height. I opened my eyes. I swung the sword in rhythmic, coordinated movements. The sharp sound of my blows reminded me of free-flowing water cascading down a deep waterfall at the end. Into the abyss. I wish he was here. And with that my bubble of deep concentration burst. I could slap myself.

When I went into the forest, I had to use a flashlight to light my way into the forest, and now the first birds started chirping and the sky glowed yellow and pink. At the end of the garden in the resort was a round arch made of natural stone, behind it a short dirt path led to a rest area - a bench on gravel - where the path split into the forest. The running and hiking trail began on the left; At normal speed it took a good two and a half hours to complete one route. To the right was the training park; Press benches, calisthenics machines, yoga mats. I stood a little further away, behind a wide tree. It wouldn't be the first time that a guest had approached me and was then disappointed to find that no combat training was offered here.

I sat down on a large root and leaned against the barky tree trunk. The air smelled of dewy moss, damp blades of grass tickled my ankles. I listened to the birds in concert until everything became quiet and the wind whispered that it was time for me to go. I dried the wooden sword with my sleeve, put it in the saya and walked through the training park back towards the resort. Someone was lifting weights, I picked up my pace and pretended I didn't see him.

~°~°~

Plumes of steam erupted explosively and quickly dissipated. Wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, my hair wrapped in a turban, I followed the smell of hot milk and freshly baked rolls.

"Good morning," I trilled and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Good morning to you too," said Gerti with a broad grin, the corners of her mouth turning slightly downwards.

I cut open a roll with the knife, crumbs spread all over the table. With the butter knife I smeared a thick layer on the bottom of the roll, with another knife I scooped plum jam on top, then I folded the other half of the roll over it and bit off a huge piece - almost half. This is heaven.

"You look tired," I munched with my mouth full.

Gerti drank her cocoa. "It was a long night. And the foehn wind gives me a headache."

Since I've lived here, I've only seen Gerti sick twice. Once during the pandemic and another time when she gave her best friend a healing massage for her birthday: This friend had an undetected tumor in her brain and after Gerti unknowingly removed it, much of her energy was used up. It took a week before she was back to her normal self.

The idea that a warm downdraft could harm her seemed absurd to me.

"Do you think it's the South Koreans' fault?"

Gerti gave me a concentrated look. "Have you noticed anything?"

"Don't know. The day they arrived I heard something on the radio about winds from the east. Minnie was there last night, on a guest's lap. Otherwise..."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"We should remain vigilant."

Gerti drank her hot drink in one long gulp, then got up to put the cup in the dishwasher. I sat and listened to her get ready for the day. Water pattering on tiles, the sound of a hairdryer, hairspray, the jingling of a long necklace, two spritzes of perfume and quick steps in heels.

Raphael would wake up in an hour. I cleared the table, leaving the butter and rolls, and prepared half a pot of fresh coffee.

I took the stairs up to my room two at a time. There I slipped into a very special uniform: a pair of white jeans, covered in paint splatters and brush strokes, frayed at the hem; a white long-sleeved shirt, just as colorful; white sneakers; Work jacket.