This part of the forest looked no different than the last. The cooing inhabitants, the sulking willows, the perpetual gloom over the scene. I had been an occupant of this scene for the past 17 days. Or perhaps it was a new forest; perhaps the scene had changed. Truly, I could not tell or at least care enough to tell. In the Valley Among the Giants, everything looked the same. Yet, I continued on.

At times I considered turning back. Maybe they would have changed their mind? Sure, I had not been able to retrieve the Heartstone of a golem, but is three chances truly enough? I always felt that banishment seemed a bit extreme, but nobody cared for what I felt. My mother, my sisters, my childhood friends. Their silence on that last day is what haunted me most, more than the glares, snickers, and jeers of the town. The largest village in the Hok’ee tribe, the most powerful of the Seven, rendered silent by the departure of one man. If I had burst into fire, would they dare to even care?

At least I had been able to take my beedliéi when I departed. My mother had done immaculate work on the robe. Its deep, prismatic flow of mauve adorned the wool. Unlike most wool items she made, this one was not rough, but radiated heat and comfort as it brushed across my cheek with each shift of my body. It once brought me honor, pride, and power to wear it. After my Shíl’h, when I became of age to embark on my quest for a Heartstone, I refused to wear it for fear it would become tainted. In banishment, however, nature’s filth had soiled it and dampened the remaining visible hues of purple between the splotches of mire. In some places, the threads had rubbed thin and small holes began to burst through. It looked less a ceremonial garment of prestige, more a fearful child’s blanket of comfort.

I licked my lips, tasting blood each time, in a faulty attempt at soothing the grievous cracks that occasionally seeped into my frozen beard. Snow leaked into my disintegrated boots. My toes may have been freezing, and they may have not been. I had not been able to decide for days.

The trees that lined my path offered sporadic respites to the blustery winds. Perhaps a brief respite was what I needed myself? My bowing eyelids hindered my vision. I felt as if I could slip from consciousness right there, though it seemed my hunger would keep any sleep at bay. Still, the despair that came with each step eventually defeated any concern.

The relief I had hoped to feel when I decided to sit and rest for a moment vanished the moment the snow began seeping through my wool pants. My legs had already accepted defeat though, so there I sat.

A lull in the gusts allowed me a moment to check my surroundings for food. I felt around for anything that would’ve survived the harsh conditions: berries, roots, fruits, seeds abandoned by wildlife, hell even the wildlife themselves. Anything.

To my disappointment, the only thing I could find was snow, ice, sleet, frost, slush, and hail.

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And…Pocan Root?

To my luck, I only grazed it with a gloved hand, but a mystery now burdened my mind: what was the Necrotic Blight doing in a forest? Was a cave nearby? Perhaps an alchemist lived nearby, dropping it on their way to conjure up their next batch of sedatives.

The split in my stomach shifted my mind back to my hunger. Dammit, I could not focus on anything beyond hunger for longer than a few moments.

I had to focus on surviving these elements! The wind began to rise once more, and if I did not move, this tree would become my tombstone.

But the hunger though…It could not be ignored for long; its force, its lethal grip would not let my body forget.

“Even just a crumb,” I silently pleaded to any deity who may cast their gaze my way. “Even just a crumb…”

I chanted inwardly, “One step. Another. Keep going.” Hold the beedliéi close, pretend – no, believe – it broke the unyielding breeze.

I may have been close to my destination, however probably not. Though, I suppose having a destination may have helped me determine.

Each breath pounded my ribs. Was it possible for ice to hang upon them? If not prior, it may be now. At least when they found my body, I would be proven a miracle of science.

“May I be more useful in death than I was in life.”

My hood, my boots, and all in between squished with each step, their icy dampness sent daggers into every nerve in my body.

“Damn, I hope I arrive at some destination soon.”

Which lethal inconvenience had awoken me this time? The gashing gale? The stacking snow? The dwindling duty of my heart?

No. None of these trepidations were the culprit this particular morning. Instead, it seemed the vibrations of the tree I had laid against awoke me this day. My eyes, pierced by unrelenting daggers of ice, slowly opened, jumping more with each bat as the reverberations grew closer. My vision returned, though my hearing remained muffled.

A long shadow overcame my grave and me.

A dream – no, nightmare of my failure? Or a cruel joke by the goddess of the valley, Niyole? Whichever, it was rudely disrupting my departure from this life. My irritation tried, and failed, to overtake exhaustion.

Still, I managed a slight glance towards the eclipse above. The blotted sun’s light strained my arid eyes.

The annoyingly familiar sight of an animated mass of stone looking down on me came into view. The heat of the crimson fire burning within it near pushed me to ecstasy as it crouched before me, its stony joints scraping amongst themselves, sounding as a bag of rocks tumbling down a slope.

It lifted its large finger to my chest and pressed. Pain seared through every inch of my body, and screams of pain broke through the ice previously clasping my lips to silence.

As the boulders curled around me, my consciousness waned. The pain still lingered, thrived even, as the heat shocked my frozen body, the last sight my eyes to see being a small ball of curls peaking over the golem’s shoulder.