You raise your hands slowly, palms outward in what you hope is a universal gesture of peace. The peasant girl takes a frightened step backward, her bare feet crushing grapes into the earth. Her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath the rough linen of her dress as she glances between your strange metal vessel and your anachronistic flight suit.

Pointing to yourself, you try miming eating and drinking, then gesture toward the distant village visible beyond the vineyard. The girl's brow furrows as she tilts her head, her long braid slipping over one shoulder. She cautiously bends to retrieve a fallen grape, holding it out toward you with a trembling hand.

As you reach for the emergency hatch release, you notice the intricate embroidery along the girl's apron - an unexpected detail of craftsmanship that makes this moment feel suddenly real. The metal door hisses open, and the rich scent of sun-warmed earth and fermenting fruit overwhelms the sterile air of your cockpit. The girl gasps at the sound, crossing herself hurriedly.

You step out carefully, boots sinking into the soft soil. Up close, you see the girl can't be more than sixteen, her face lightly freckled from sun exposure. She studies your face with growing curiosity, her initial terror giving way to fascination. From the village, a distant bell tolls, and the girl's head whips around nervously. She makes urgent shooing motions toward your machine, then points toward a nearby stone barn half-hidden by vines.