She took the pot with soup off the stove and turned around to set it on the table, but when she turned she faced the backdoor of her house. It was a warm autumn day and so she had opened it to let in some fresh air from the garden. Now there was a figure standing in the doorway and blocking most of the light that had been coming in. Taken by surprise she froze in place, the pot in her hands. She lived a mile away from the nearest city in the woods, so it was uncommon for anyone to randomly show up at her door, much less coming from the direction of the forest. The visitor had apparently covered themselves in many layers of black and dark clothing, topped off with a long hooded cape, leather gloves and a black fabric wrapped around the face. The only thing visible was their piercing gray eyes that almost seemed white. This appearance scared her enough to not immediately speak and ask what the visitor wanted. Without moving a muscle she looked the figure up and down, searching for anything that would give away what they wanted from her. The visitor similarly stood there silently, eyes apparantly fixed on her face until they suddenly took a step into the house, their eyes rolling up and closing, and they just collapsed on the floor.
The sudden movement and the painful creaking of the wooden floor snapped her out of the freeze and she hurriedly made her way over to the kitchen table, next to which the person had broken down, to put down the pot.
As soon as her hands were free she knelt next to the figure and turned their body on the back to see if they were still breathing. Through all the fabric she couldn't make out if their chest was moving or hear any breathing, so she started to take off the cloth around the face and immediately noticed that their face and lips were unnaturally pale. It looked like the person was a young man around her age who was clearly very sick. She could see he was sweating too, but when she put her hand on his forehead he was not burning up like she'd anticipated. She reached to his neck and felt a weak pulse, so she sighed in relief. Without a second thought she grabbed him under the arms and dragged him across the room to the base of the stairs leading up to her bedroom. She then managed to half-carry him up the stairs and laid him on the carpet next to her bed.
Taking a deep breath she sat beside him and started to take off his clothes. She opened the cape and the hood slid down enough to reveal short white hair. Startled, she pushed off the hood fully and took a closer look at his hair. It definitely wasn't dyed, but a look at his face confirmed that he was really not an old man. With ongoing confusion she took off most of his clothes including many layers of shirts, pants and his gloves. This revealed that he actually was pale everywhere, even tho from how his body was built it looked like he was an active hunter and not easily taken down by sickness. This thought was confirmed when she found multiple knifes and hidden daggers, as well as some rope and other various items in his pockets.
She had some trouble untying his shoelaces because he had used some knots she was not familiar with, but eventually she had him only in his underwear, ready to put him in her bed to rest. Without all the clothes and metal he was significantly lighter and she put his arms around her neck, grabbed his back and lifted him onto the sheets. When she started to pull away from him his eyes suddenly opened and held her gaze. She was so close that she could see that even his eyelashes were white and his eyes looked like a snowstorm was trapped inside them. Looking into them drew her in in a way she had never experienced before and when she thought she'd stop breathing if she looked any longer she forced herself to close her eyes and pulled away fast. Shuddering, she turned away from his head, put his legs up on the bed and then grabbed the blanket to cover him up. When she looked at his face again his eyes were closed and he had turned his head away from the window, out of the sun. She figured he was probably sensitive right now and couldn't handle the brightnes, so she closed the curtains of all four windows upstairs. Then she came back to the bed and felt his temperature again. It felt just a little warmer than normal now, and he was still sweating, so she decided to get a wet rag to cool him.
She returned to the kitchen and decided she'd keep some of the soup she had made for him to eat when he had rested a little. She found a rag on the kitchen counter and then ran some cold water into a small bucket she took from the corner of the room. Back upstairs she dipped the rag into the water, wrung it out and gently placed it on his head. It looked like he was unconscious now and his lips had parted slightly. It seemed to her there was something slightly odd about his teeth, but she couldn't really place it. She had no desire to get near his face again though, so she just ignored that feeling and made her way downstairs again to let him rest and finally eat her lunch.
During the work in her garden she went upstairs a few times to check on him, but he was still sleeping when she had watered all the plants, tended to her vegetables, collected some berries and had fixed the part of the fence wild animals had tried to break in the night. She checked on him again while the sun was setting and when he showed no sign of waking up she went out to the barn to feed her horse Midnight, the four pigs, two sheep and a few hens that she kept. The gray and white cat she had named Genie followed her to the backdoor to get some food, so she went to the basement to grab one of the fish she had caught last week. She reached into the barrel of water with her net and pulled out a trout. A few minutes later the fish had lost head, tail, intestines and some of the flesh and Genie was happily gnawing away on the eatable parts.
She prepared the rest of the trout for dinner and before she sat she went upstairs again.
To her surprise the man had woken up and looked at her very intently when she came up the stairs. Even though this stare made her uncomfortable she put on a happy face and asked: "hungry?"
The stranger pushed himself up on his arms and nodded. She was glad that he wanted to eat, because that gave her an opportunity to escape his gaze for a little longer. She'd have to ask him about himself and his reason to be here soon, but for right now it was ok to just go back down, start to heat up the leftover soup from lunch and have dinner in the meantime. When she was almost ready to go back up with a bowl and spoon she heard some rustling upstairs, so she figured he had grown impatient or really hungry and she hurried to go up. When she got there he was sitting on the side of the bed and had his face buried in his hands. As soon as she made the first step towards him his head shot up and he had fixed his eyes on her again. With an eerie feeling she went over to him and held out her hands with the food. He took the bowl, and stared at it for a few seconds before he slowly began eating.
Not knowing what to do now, she looked around and noticed that the curtains were still drawn, now shutting out the little light that was trying to make it's way in, so she went and opened all of them. When she turned back towards the stranger he was watching her again, but after a second he returned to eating the rest of the soup. She just stood there and watched him eat, still feeling uneasy about the whole situation. It didn't really help that he was still shirtless and the way he moved was very elegant despite the situation he was in.
When she studied him like this it actually looked like he might be royalty. The way he moved, the build of his body and the fine hands that seemed to never have been used for dirty work. On the other hand it was very unlikely that a royal would stumble into her house and wear the clothes he had been wearing. They were of good quality, but didn't have the over-the-top ornaments or puffed sleeves you'd recognize from royalty. Even more confused after making these observations she mustered up the courage to start the conversation.
"Who are you?", she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
He had finished eating and was now looking at her again.
"My name is Nero." His voice was very low and soft, but his tone was almost cold, matching his look.
