CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY NINE – DROWNED ND BACK TO LAND

When Joan finally opened her eyes, she found herself in a small, dimly lit room, lying on a threadbare mattress. A weathered woman sat beside her, a damp cloth in her hand and a look of concern etched into her weathered features. "Grazie a Dio," the woman murmured, crossing herself. "We thought you were lost to us." Joan tried to speak, but her voice caught in her raw throat. The woman shushed her gently, pressing the cloth to her forehead. "Rest now, child," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "You are safe here." And so, Joan rested, her battered body slowly regaining its strength under the care of the village women. They tended to her wounds, fed her hearty stews and fresh bread, and listened with rapt attention as she haltingly recounted her harrowing ordeal. As the days turned to weeks, Joan found herself drawn into the rhythms of village life. She helped with the cooking and cleaning, her deft hands quickly mastering the simple tasks. The children, once wary of the strange