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View character profile for: Daniil
Exploration - Daniil
Daniil, lying on his rush mat, was bent over a sheet of paper. With his coloured pencils, he was drawing the village. From above, it was a disparate assembly of squares and rectangles, the houses and the stalls, which were scattered on the sheet. Around the village, Daniil had drawn blue mountains. Glancing over his shoulder, his mother wondered how long Daniil would remember the mountains, before the rain curtain completely erased them from his memory. They were already barely visible, and with worry she thought of when they would vanish behind the clouds of rain. She watched her son connecting the house-squares and the shop-rectangles, one by one, with a long line that snaked and turned and rolled. It was the wooden footbridge. Its building had been voted after the third year of Rain.
Daniil was dreamily listening to the passers-by walking on the covered footbridge. There were hurried steps, strolling steps, sad steps, loving steps. There were those who hobbled, those who almost ran, those who stopped. And there was Omma's steps.
He rushed towards her, as she enter the small room.
Omma was old and kind. She lived with Daniil, his father and his mother.
In several places on the footbridge, between two shop' entrances or after a random bend, were wooden doors buckled by humidity. Omma was one of the few inhabitants who still pushed open those doors to venture outside volontarily. Besides, Daniil had always wondered if it was not the rain that had drawn the wrinkles on her face.
He had watched her leave one morning. She would take her basket under her arm, and an umbrella in the other. She used to wrap herself in an old raincoat and tighten the hood over her hair. On the boardwalk, her thick heels snapped long after she would disappeared from Daniil's sight. When she would come back a few hours later, just in time for lunch, her clothes were always heavy and soaked, and her umbrella invariably hung on her wrist, closed. Under her arm, the basket was filled with fresh herbs and mushrooms and sometimes even berries. When she came back, Omma would smell of moss.