Work Text:
Winters in Gidna were busy in a way that never ceased to surprise me. The Spindle valley ground to a halt in the winter months, the thick blanket of snow damping sound and activity as people bundled in their homes and plumes of hearth smoke climbed towards the sky. Gidna refused hibernation, the city still brimming with energy and its people wrapped in layers and layers of thick fabric to brave the weather. Trade did not cease even with the ocean lethally cold, and neither did fishing; the pungent smell of herring made my nose wrinkle more than once as we wove between laden carriages heading to and from the market.
Keeping a firm grip on my hand, Kasia led me through the winding streets until the buildings around us shrank in size and luxury and we left the city behind altogether. The highway here was less populated, allowing us to walk side-by-side rather than single-file through the crowds, but while her fingers loosened they did not let go; rather, they laced through mine, smooth and warming from the contact.
Stashek and Marisha had been left behind at the manor, delightedly munching on the sweets Sarkan and I had concocted: roses spun from sugar and horses moulded from gingerbread, complete with saddles and tack, baked by hand and carefully coaxed into shape with magic. Sarkan had been uninterested in the project until I’d mentioned who the gifts were for, drawing a sharp fine out of him that did not conceal his latent, if prickly, affection. He’d thrown out the first five roses, deeming them unfit, before making a veritable bouquet.
“Why didn’t he come too?” Stashek had asked when I’d arrived at the manor a few hours ago. Age and training meant that it didn’t come out as a whine, but the corners of his mouth had wobbled dangerously downward.
I’d leaned conspiratorially towards him. “You know him; he thinks the winters here are too cold. The fierce Dragon, defeated by ocean winds!”
The children had giggled, mollified, and turned back to their treats.
“If I’d known you had a mystery for us,” I said to Kasia now, “I’d have insisted harder that he come along.”
Kasia snorted softly, swinging our arms forward. “And ruin his pretty clothes again? How long did he complain about the salt crusts last time?”
Days. Weeks. We’d washed the salt out with magic the same evening we’d returned to the tower, but he hadn’t let his indignation die easily. “Still, you could have written us. You know he likes puzzles.”
One shoulder rose in a small shrug. “It didn’t seem important enough to write about, since you were coming to visit. It’s just... odd.”
“Odd?”
Kasia’s jaw set; she’d stubbornly stamped on the habit of chewing on the inside of her lip when we’d turned ten, but she still showed her nerves clear as day. “We still often go to the beach -- Stashek and Marisha and I, though not quite as often as last year, since their studies are more demanding. Even if it’s too cold to swim, they like searching for shells and crabs and any other excitement. A few weeks ago we found a cave, a ways away from the harbour. There are enough reefs and rocks to keep boats away from that stretch, and the cave is inaccessible at high tide, but there are enough outcrops to make the climb easy.”
We veered off from the main road onto a path wide enough for two people walking abreast. It wove between bare trees and bristly spruces on an increasing slope, until the trees fell away and the hard-packed earth gave way to dark, flat rocks and sand. The sea was slate grey, two shades darker than the sky, and even the beach seemed drained of colour, the sand pale and coarse underneath our boots.
“It seemed like a regular sea cave, until we went in a little deeper and found... pictures? Like something out of tales. The children were delighted, and tried to make stories with them for so long that the tide was starting to come in. But not twenty steps down the beach, they’d gone quiet, and after another ten they started looking for crabs.” A pinscritch line appeared between her brows. “We’ve gone back twice more, and they never remember it five minutes after we leave. I’ve asked around the household and at the library, and no one’s heard anything about cave pictures. No one believes that they’re there.”
“You went back with them?”
Kasia found accusation where I’d tried to be blandly curious; she gave me a guilty look and a stiff shrug. “I didn’t think much of it the first time. They’re still young, their attention spans are short. But when we went back to that stretch of beach the next week and they acted like they’d never seen it before, I started wondering.”
It wasn’t a deserted stretch of beach, either; the path leading from the highway was indication enough that it was a common destination. Despite the bleak weather, there were people here even now, skipping stones on the choppy waves or strolling hand-in-hand near enough to the waterline that I wondered how they tolerated the sharp, stinging sea spray. Down the beach from the path was a natural lagoon, with a few brave souls perched on the rocky lip facing the ocean; I shook my head, and silently thanked Kasia as she turned us to walk along the shore, a safe distance away.
“It’s not that far from here, so I’m sure we’re not the only ones who’ve found it, but it’s like people forget about it as soon as they’ve left.”
I’d never worked with magic that affected memories, having only warily eyed a few books in the library that dealt with the subject. Sarkan’s lecture on the hazards of it after that incident with Marek -- I was momentarily taken aback by how long ago that felt -- had left me with a distaste for it, even before bringing the ethical complications into the equation. “That kind of magic... It might seem harmless, but those kinds of spells aren’t usually cast with good intentions.”
“It doesn’t feel malevolent, which is why I didn’t rush you here as soon as I thought something was wrong, but it’s--” Kasia grimaced, waving her free hand vaguely.
“Odd?”
“Odd.”
The sun shone weakly through the sheet of clouds, and the shadow of the rising cliffs looked cold and damp and unappealing. The sounds of the sea and wind seemed to bound on the dark wall of stone, and we stopped trying to talk over the din altogether, chins tucked into our scarves and shoulders up around our ears. We finally let each other’s hand go to pull on gloves and to better keep our balance as Kasia picked a trail over the rocks at the base of the cliff. The stones were almost dangerously slick, worn by the tides and wet from the spray being flung over the distance by the winds. After the third time my foot slipped and Kasia had to grab my elbow to steady me, solid and stable despite the terrain, I started fervently hoping that the weather had been much nicer when she and the children had come out here.
There were a few grooves carved into the cliffs, concave indents and cracks that might one day be made into caves by the persistent tides, but there was only one true cave -- a gaping hole a few feet up from where the line where the rock went from water-smoothed to jagged. Kasia tugged me up the last few steps, and we turned to look back out at the ocean. As she’d said, the “beach” below the cave was a hazard for boats and swimmers alike; jagged pillars of rock stood defiantly despite their worn bases. At high tide, the cave would be dry (well, relatively, as the spray stung my face even here), but venturing out would likely lead to being dashed on the cliffs or the pillars.
She seemed to read my mind. “The tide starts to rise near sunset, so we have about an hour before we need to head out if we don’t want to get our feet wet.”
Torches would have struggled against the damp air, and the sun was of no help today, so I gathered a small ball of magic in my hand and willed it to light. It rose from my palm and split into pieces, like large fireflies hovering lazily around our heads. “Well, lead the way.”
We didn’t have to go far before I felt the haze of magic mingling with the heavy air of the cave. I slowed, trying to feel it out, but the haze parted around us, as if kept at bay by the lights. Later, then; I quickened my pace to catch up to Kasia, who’d bent down to peer at a stretch of the wall. We were still close enough to the cave entrance that on a clearer day the wall would’ve been illuminated by the daylight, but the magic lights made the carvings stand out like inked pictures. They were crude, shallow, worn at the edges like the ocean was doing its best to wash them away; it was only this last part that made me think these were old enough to not have been carved recently by a bored teenager with a dagger. The lights flickered down to show that they stretched out longer than the span of my arms at knee height. I ran my fingers over the lines of the right-most one, a simplistic boat with a strange, triangular sail.
“From what I could understand, it seems a crew was shipwrecked near here and took refuge in the cave,” Kasia said, crouched with her elbows resting on her knees. “But then...”
I followed the line of carvings, right to left: the boat, what looked like the cave and the rock formations guarding it, a giant wave, and then-- “A monster?” It was carved in greater detail than anything preceding it, humanoid, with horns and sharp teeth and a spiked tail. It was followed by more waves, and what looked to be regular humans standing in the cave mouth.
Mouth twisting, Kasia nodded. “Marisha shrieked when she saw it. It’s very... childish?”
I let out a sharp breath in agreement. Given red eyes and a penchant for living under beds, it seemed very much like a monster that would haunt the imagination of children. “I don’t know of anything that actually looks like this. But fairytales start somewhere, right?”
The carvings after that were repetitive, people standing at the entrance of the cave and waves, over and over. “Were they trapped here? Something was keeping the tides high?” I wondered, and Kasia spread her hands, clearly at a loss. The last carving in the line was of the monster again, horns smaller, tail and fangs missing, also standing in the circle of the cave mouth. I peered deeper into the cave, suddenly wondering if we’d found its den.
Kasia seemed to think the same, venturing ahead with her flock of little lights trailing after her, and I followed suit, keeping an eye out for more carvings or any other hints as to what might have happened. The cave walls narrowed until they brushed Kasia’s shoulders and she turned sideways to continue, and I tamped down the fear rising in my throat. There weren’t many caves in the Wood, and they were all shallow, walls softened by moss and stubborn plants growing from the cracked floor. All of a sudden the weight of the stone above us seemed immense, poised to crush us, but I took a deep breath of salt-sharp air and edged into the crack.
In the end, my show of courage was for nothing. Kasia stopped abruptly with a soft sound of disappointment. “It’s caved in. I can’t go any farther.”
I didn’t mind turning around at all, and even the weak sunlight at the entrance of the cave felt comforting. We stopped at the series of carvings once more, and I reached inside my pack, pulling out parchment, two flat boards, and sticks of charcoal. “Let’s draw what we can, and take it back home. If no one can remember these after they leave, it’s reasonable to think no one’s ever had the materials on hand to copy them.”
Kasia was reaching for the charcoal before I’d finished talking, ignoring or not caring about the stains it left on her glove. I settled down cross-legged with my board balanced on one knee and almost immediately regretted it as the damp soaked through my skirts. Kasia laughed at my discomfort and helped to tug me back up into a crouch, and then we got to sketching, with her starting at the beginning and me at the end. We met in the middle, frowned at the monster, frowned at each other, and both drew it; she finished first, beaming in triumph.
I gathered all of the sketches, carefully ordering them and pressing them between the boards, and slipped the bundle back into my bag. “And now, the spell.”
Kasia cast her eyes about the cave. “I can... feel something? But like I said, it doesn’t feel... wrong.”
We’d both felt enough wrong in the Wood to know what she meant. The permeating sense of malice, the weight of a predator’s eyes on your back; there was thankfully none of that here.
My eyes fell half closed, vision focused inward and outward to the currents of magic. The haze I’d felt upon entering had been thicker in the back of the cave, but was still hovering out of reach beyond the bubble of clean air around my lights. I dimmed them with a small wave of my fingers, and the haze drifted closer, close enough to touch.
And touch I did, taking off a glove despite Kasia’s short cry of warning. I felt nothing on my skin save for the chill of the ocean winds, but underneath it, I felt the haze like cotton in my veins. I cupped my hand and tried to coax it to gather in my palm, but it stayed as it was, a fog that would not move for rain nor wind nor human motion. The residual feeling remained for but a few seconds after I pulled my hand back, and I hummed, pondering.
“It’s definitely not sentient, or targetting anyone. The magic is just... here. Weak, but here.” I reached out once more, trying to unravel the strands of magic, but they slipped like water through my fingers. I strained my ears, and just barely , over the sounds of the ocean, could I hear a susurration of forget, forget, forget.
My head jerked up like a dog’s who’d found a scent, following the words. Now that I could make them out, they seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of the cave opposite the wind. “Whatever’s holding the magic here is in the back of the cave.”
“Behind the cave-in?”
There was the slightest uncomfortable slide of fear along my ribs. “Yes. We need to get back there.”
Kasia looked out to the entrance and shook her head. “We don’t have time. We’ll come back in the morning.”
I frowned but had to agree; I hadn’t Kasia’s strength to move the rocks myself nor the inclination to be trapped here until the tides went out again. The waves were already lapping at the bases of the farthest pillars when we made it down to the beach, and we hurried to round the cliffs and reach the sand, winds whipping our scarves around our heads. Somehow, I heard it even more clearly now: Forget.
No, I thought. I won’t.
--
It had apparently taken days of Kasia’s continued insistence to keep my first supper at the manor from turning into a full multi-course royal feast, but the sheer amount and variety of foods on display were still enough to make my head spin. Stashek and Marisha were more than happy to guide me through every new dish, words tumbling over each others’ as they described what the dish was, how it was made, how I was supposed to eat it, and their genuine opinions on it all. Kasia watched it all with fondness shining in her eyes, smiling whenever I caught her gaze and laughing if I looked particularly baffled by what had been set in front of me.
We settled in a lounge for tea after supper, catching up, filling in all the details that our letters had missed over the months, until the children’s eyes started to droop and we all shuffled towards their bedrooms. In Kasia’s own room, I started shedding the outer layers of my clothes; even with the oilskin cloak, the hems of my skirts and sleeves were stiff with salt, and it was starting to itch.
Kneeling to help unlace my boots, Kasia said, “I need to make my rounds and check the reports. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I blinked at her in mock-surprise. “You mean I can’t steal the captain of the king’s guard even for an evening?”
She smiled wryly. “Tragically, no.” Setting my boots aside, she put her hands on my knees and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Don’t wait up. We’ve an early start tomorrow.”
As the door shut behind her, I reached for my pack and brought it to the small writing desk in the corner of the room. I conjured a window into Sarkan’s library, and, as I’d expected, he was still poring over the treatises on thaumaturgy that a Rosyan librarian had begrudgingly loaned us, a cup of no-doubt cooled tea at his elbow and the fire banked low. Nevertheless, he looked up immediately, and only a second later I felt his magic touch mine and flow around the window, forming a solid frame.
“Nieshka,” he said, somehow sounding surprised and pleased and worried all at once. It was a far cry from the days of clipped words dripping in disgust and scorn. “Is something wrong?”
“Good evening, it’s nice to see you too.”
He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you to call on me so soon. Or at all.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes, but the smile was getting harder to fight. “I’m fine, but I do have a question.”
Sarkan sobered immediately, setting his quill aside. Having the Dragon’s full attention was a privilege few owned; it still sent a shiver down my spine to have the full force of those sharp eyes on mine, though not in the way it used to. “Yes?”
“Kasia found a cave near Gidna with some markings inside, pictographs carved into the stone. However, no one seems to remember them or the cave once they leave, except Kasia -- and now me. Can a memory-affecting spell be tied to an object? A location?”
He let out a sharp breath through his nose, surprised. “Yes. If one can anchor a spell to something, it can remain active for quite some time, though it’s easy to dismantle. It’s similar to enchanting an item, but what it has in range it loses in stability and overall strength.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “The practice lost popularity when Alosha and her peers refined proper enchanting centuries ago, but the odd case still surfaces every few decades.”
“Would a witch be immune?”
“Typically, yes. Such spells aren’t strong enough to affect anyone with training, let alone someone aware of the effect and actively fighting it. In Kasia’s case... There is much we do not know about her new state, but it’s possible that she’s been sufficiently suffused with magic to be immune to something so weak.”
I took the bundle of papers from my bag and dropped it through the window, where it landed on a stack of his notes with a muffled thump. “Most of the pictures were comprehensible, at least; it seems like a crew was trapped in the cave by unnaturally high tides for days and carved these at the time. We don’t know whether they escaped or not. The strangest picture is that , though,” I said, and gestured at the two sketches of the creature.
Sarkan had unwrapped the boards as I spoke and spread the parchments in front of him, weighing the tops down with his inkwell. The bridge of his nose wrinkled as his eyes landed on the monster, taking in the jagged teeth, the horns, and the pointed tail; it really did look comical at best. “And this is what caused the high tides?”
“We think so. I was hoping maybe you’d know what it could be.”
Shaking his head, Sarkan flipped through the last few pages then let then fall back into a pile. “It looks like something out of a children’s book, not any creature I’ve heard of. But controlling the tides? Very, very few have that ability, and the most common among them are humans.”
I settled back in my chair, arms crossed. “A sea witch?” Their services were almost ludicrously expensive these days; only the most prestigious of shipping companies could afford to pay for clear skies and favourable winds, as the dwindling number of mages drove the costs up. Could one have cursed them? Perhaps after having been refused payment?
“One thing I can suggest,” he said, tapping the top-most page, “is for this boat. It looks like a Siatu ship. They frequently sent explorers across the ocean many centuries ago, and their sails were unique compared to anything used here. Most made land in Rosya, but there are records of contact closer to Kralia as well.”
“What happened to them?”
“Some integrated, but most returned home. They were explorers and conquerors seeking glory, and this land had already been claimed. The king feared an invasion ‘til his final days, but it never came. The Siatu were unfortunately a people of oral tradition, so little of their history remains on our side of the ocean.” His mouth thinned in displeasure. “But to anchor a spell like that to a cave -- Who? A member of the crew? A witch? This”-- he gestured at the sketches -- “whatever this is? I doubt it was for peaceful reasons.”
“Like Kasia said, the magic in the cave doesn’t feel malevolent. It feels... sad, if anything.”
“Still, should I...?”
I gave him a flat look. “And risk salt-stains on your robes?”
He snorted, but a smile curled the corners his lips. “I know I’m asking the impossible, but please be careful. Come home safe, both of you.”
Warmth curled up behind my breastbone, and I smiled. “We will.”
--
We rose with the servants and departed after a small breakfast of fresh bread and fruits. The weather was frustratingly even less pleasant, with heavy storm clouds on the horizon and a chill sharp enough to steal the breath from my lungs for the first few steps out the door. It was a much quieter walk back to the cave, both in traffic and in our conversation; we were too busy huddling miserably in our cloaks to chat.
The ocean was choppy, white crests crashing again the shore, and the beach deserted. Our pace sped until we reached the cliffs, where the footing had become even more treacherous. The tides had only recently receded, and the rocks felt as cold as ice even through my gloves as I climbed.
I summoned my cloud of lights once more and sent them ahead, brighter to compensate for the lack of sunlight. We passed the carvings and stopped before the narrowing gap. “Let me go in first,” I said, jaw clenched to keep my teeth from chattering. “I’ll see if I can feel out a safe way to start clearing the rubble.”
At Kasia’s nod, I took a deep breath, turned, and started edging my way into the crack. When my fingers touched stone, I sent the lights spiralling upwards to find the ceiling of the cave, then let them fall gently to trace the cave-in back down to the floor. Closing my eyes, I pressed my palm against the flattest stone and pictured roots sprouting from my fingers, winding into the tiny spaces in the rubble. They grew and spread, and in my mind I saw them like a map, twisting and winding and--
I jerked, and the roots stopped. Near the ceiling, the stones were loose, having tumbled haphazardly into place. The rest, however, was far too precise to be natural; the stones were uncut, but fitted together in a way that made the base of it solid, immovable, a solid wall.
“It’s not a cave-in.”
I could hear Kasia shifting, weight going from foot to foot. “Sorry?”
My hair snagged on a sharp point as I turned my head towards her, pulling strands out of my braid. “It’s not a cave-in! Well— not entirely. Some of it is, but most is too... structured. It was made by hand.”
Her incredulous expression was half-lost in shadow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s-- Hang on,” I said, and started shuffling back out. She grabbed my hand the moment it was in reach and pulled me out the rest of the way. “You can start taking the rocks from the top. They’re loose, but small. The rest is... it’s a wall. It shouldn’t be dangerous to take down.”
She gave the gap a hard stare, then looked back at me. “And what about what’s on the other side of that wall?”
The voice had been audible since we’d arrived, and I didn’t think it was my imagination that had the haze pressing closer despite my lights. I grimaced. “At worst, a monster.”
“‘At worst’,” she repeated with a breathless laugh. “Alright. Keep the way clear.”
We settled into a rhythm, Kasia bringing stones out from the gap and me tucking them against the walls in growing piles. Eventually, as she reached the center of the wall, the rocks grew too big for her to carry out, no matter the angle she tried. Instead, she started pushing them into the newly-opened passage, making me wince at the crashes. We certainly weren’t going to have the element of surprise if something still lived here.
Finally, she poked her head out and gestured me over. “It’s clear enough to pass. Only a small climb over the rubble.” She gave me her hand once more, helping me over what remained of the wall.
The air beyond was stale, old, and made both of our noses wrinkle. I sent the lights farther up ahead, but while it seemed like simply more cave, the magic had grown thick enough that I could almost taste it on my tongue. “Whatever the source, it’s definitely here,” I said, voice dropping instinctively into a whisper.
She nodded and edged on ahead, body angled so as to not block my vision but still be in a position to defend me, one hand at the hilt of dagger on her belt.
As the passage sloped gently down, the voice in the magic grew louder; there was a tinge of desperation, an undercurrent of grief, a plea for us to forget . I’d practically stopped breathing when Kasia suddenly stopped short. I collided with her back and jumped, heart in my throat, but Kasia remained immovable and still before me. “We’ve reached the end,” she said, and I saw over her shoulder that the little lights had stopped, pressed up against a dead end. “And we’ve found the witch.”
She took a half-step to the side, and I followed her eyes down to the floor, where a dark lump lay. The lights caught on something dazzlingly blue, sending pinpricks dancing around the cave, and as I sent them down I made out the curl of fingers around a gem, inlaid in darkened gold. The lump formed into a skull, empty sockets staring at the brooch even now.
Curse them, and forget them.
--
Kasia volunteered her cloak as a makeshift sling. We gathered what remained of the skeleton and lay it in the center of the oilskin and tied the corners so that she could carry it out. I turned the brooch over my hands, feeling the scratches and dents in the gold; it had seen a lot of wear and use. As Sarkan had said, the spell was easy to unravel, anchored as it was in long-ago desperation. I tugged at a thread at the edge of its form, a cocoon around the brooch, and the magic dissipated like dew in the sun. The air felt lighter almost immediately, and I saw Kasia blink at me, shoulders no longer stiff.
It was past noon when we left the cave, passing the cloak to each other to take turns climbing down. The worst of the storm had veered off to the west, but the wind still howled around us. At the base of the cliff, hidden from the gusts behind one of the pillars, I untied the cloak to slip the brooch in with her bones, then tied it back up tight.
The beach was still deserted, and we wordlessly skirted along the edge of the lagoon until we faced the open ocean. Kasia’s hair whipped around her face in golden streamers, but she held the bundle tight in her arms. “Do I...?”
The waters were dark, the currents nearly violent, the spray like knives on my exposed skin, but it felt right . “Yes.”
Kasia held her arms out and dropped the bundle into the waves, where the undertow pulled it from sight. Her hand reached for mine and held tight, tight like before she’d learned to control her strength, and I returned the pressure as best as I could.
My lips felt dry and cracked when we finally returned to the beach, pressed tight together to share my cloak. The ocean wind was weaker up on the highway, and we wove to the far side to be further shielded by the wagons. It took the manor doors closing at our backs for us to finally find our words.
“So they killed her,” Kasia said, voice soft. “They trapped her there and she trapped them with her.”
I nodded, tucking my face against her shoulder. “It’s been known to happen. People who don’t want to pay...”
Her mouth stretched into an unhappy line and her arm tightened around my waist. “Let’s go get changed; you’ll catch your death in those clothes.”
The fireplace in her room was blazing to fight off the cold seeping in through the windows, and we curled up in front of it, half-undressed and bone-weary. It was the thought of fireplaces that sent my thoughts tumbling to Sarkan, whose body ran so warm that he never needed the hearths as much as I did, but who always had them crackling merrily two steps before I entered any room.
I cracked an eye open and propped myself up on one elbow to gather the magic in my other hand, and the window formed, tinged in fire. Sarkan blinked at me from the tower kitchens, but held out his magic as always to steady the connection. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he stared at us, and we realised what we looked like -- clothes missing, hair tangled, lying on the floor -- and started laughing and laughing.
“If you’re quite done,” he said stiffly when Kasia and I had quieted down to giggles, “can I ask why you’re contacting me again so soon? Did you find anything?”
Kasia and I were sat up now, crossed legs brushing at the knees. “We found the witch,” I said, and Kasia nodded. “They’d walled her in at the back of the cave.”
His eyebrows rose, then fell as he frowned. “Siatu weren’t particularly fond of magic. It was rare in their blood, a curse. It was one of the reasons so few were keen to stay here. And she trapped them there; little wonder they saw her as a beast.”
The burst of energy that had helped me conjure the window was fading fast. I rested my chin on Kasia’s shoulder, voice low. “She’d tied the spell to her brooch. Like you said, it was easy to undo.”
He set his bowl down on the counter to cross his arms; I vaguely registered that he’d made himself soup for lunch and smiled. “Denying them of their legacy was the worst thing she could inflict on them.”
The smile slid off my face, and I stared through the window at the fire.
Sarkan pulled my attention back with an impatient huff. “You both look half-drowned. Go take a warm bath, eat, and get some rest.”
Kasia chuckled and pushed me back upright before standing. “Yes, sir.”
“And perhaps on your next vacation you could avoid uncovering centuries-old mysteries, yes?”
"No promises," I said, and took Kasia's hand.