A few stray drops of water fell from his mouth to the water’s surface, creating ripples across the face within. Evren blinked once, twice, and stared back at the creature with equally wide-eyed vacancy. He moved to sit in a kneeling position so he could lift his hands from the mud and fold them in his lap. [color=cc3300]”(And what happened to you?)”[/color] Evren asked in broken Swedish. He wasn’t sure if he cared about the lake dweller understanding him, but it occurred to him that those fishermen and the other Finnish peasants he’d encountered in his journey didn’t talk anything like the Lutheran Swedes he’d known in the past. He supposed it may be like the church’s use of Latin in Catholic nations across Europe, but hoped it had at least some mutual intelligibility. Maintaining steady eye contact with the woman, Evren did something foolhardy. He reached his muddied left hand into the water, making a slow but deliberate motion to touch her face.