Damian handed her the cup.
„Drink it. It has honey and St. John’s wort. It will warm you from the inside out.”
Ilona tried to take a sip, but the trembling wouldn’t allow it. The hot drink burned her lips; however, as it slid down her throat, a warm sensation began to spread through her body, like a flame that brings life back. For the first time in a long time, she truly felt alive.
Damian sat beside her, watching her with the tenderness of someone protecting a candle flame from the wind.
„Where have you been?” he asked softly.
„From Gyimes…” she whispered. „I was running away.”
„From whom?”
In the firelight, Ilona lowered her gaze.
„From my own life… from one that wasn’t mine.”
The man didn’t press the issue. He nodded slowly. There, among the mountains, no one demanded explanations: each carried their own burden, and not all pain was meant to be shared.
The fire crackled. Ilona stretched her legs carefully, feeling the blood return. Damian took a dry shirt hanging on a nail and offered it to her.
„Put it on. It’s a little big, but it’s dry.”
As she put it on, he noticed a thin white scar on her shoulder.
„Who did that to you?” he asked without thinking.
Ilona was startled.
„It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I managed to escape.”
Damian clenched his fists. An old pain was reflected in his eyes.
„Sometimes a man can become a monster… especially when he thinks he can control everything.”
Ilona looked at him silently.
„You’re running from something too, aren’t you, Damian?”
He smiled bitterly, staring at the embers.
“I was a doctor in Brașov. I couldn’t save my wife. It was a winter like this one. They say God takes the best, but sometimes I think he sends his angels in the wrong direction. Since then, I’ve lived here, among the mountains.”
Ilona felt her heart clench. She wanted to touch him, but held back.
“And now you live alone?”
“With the wind, the weeds, and the wolves. That’s enough for me.”
“Perhaps…” she said, smiling tenderly. “Perhaps God wasn’t wrong. Maybe you just had to wait for someone to fight for again.”
Damien looked up at her. For a moment, time stood still. Outside, the snow was silent, and even the wind seemed to have fallen asleep.
Later, when Ilona fell asleep, he stayed by the fireplace, listening to her breathing. Every little sigh was proof: she was alive. He covered her carefully, and for the first time in years, he didn’t look at her as a doctor, but as a man.
At dawn, the sun filtered through the window, and the ice crystals sparkled like gems. Ilona awoke to the aroma of freshly baked bread and dried herbs. A steaming soup awaited her on the table.
„Didn’t you sleep?” she asked.
„The mountains don’t allow for much sleep,” he replied, smiling.
That smile, for the first time, was human, warm.
Ilona ate slowly and then said softly,
„I can’t go back. There… no human beings are waiting for me there anymore.”
„Then stay here,” Damian said simply. „Until you decide what you want to do.”
Ilona lowered her gaze.
„And what if I decided never to leave?”
Damn stopped, then moved closer.
„Then you’ll have to get used to the wind, the solitude, and me. None of the three are easy.”
Ilona laughed, clear and sincere.
„After the wind I’ve been through, your voice doesn’t frighten me anymore.”
Damián opened the door.
„Come, look.”
Outside, the world had changed. The White Mountains shone in the sun, and the air was so pure it felt like a prayer. Ilona stood in the doorway, letting the wind caress her face. She felt reborn.
He stood behind her and placed the old coat over her shoulders.
„These mountains heal, if you let them. Perhaps they’ll heal you too.”
Ilona looked into his eyes.
„And you, Doctor?”
He smiled, a new light in his eyes.
„Me too. If you stay.”
Ilona’s hand slipped over his. Damián’s fingers trembled: he felt the warmth of life for the first time in years.
“Then I’ll stay,” he whispered. “Until the storm subsides. Or until you ask me to.”
Damián ran his fingers through Ilona’s red hair, as if he believed the ice would never return.
“Then let the storm never subside,” he murmured.
Ilona smiled and took a step toward him. The snow danced around them, silent, like a blessing.
The wind no longer roared: it breathed, beside them.
When spring arrived and the snow melted, the old cabin ceased to be “the albino’s house on the mountain.”
The people of the valley said:
“Up there live two. The woman laughs, and the man… the man has started playing the violin again.”
And when the wind crossed the valley, it carried with it a soft, warm melody, which even the storm listened to in silence.