I walked until my legs could take me no further.

I welcomed the company of the darkness along with my salty tears. I tried to scrub off the soldier’s blood, but the look in her eyes haunted me. I began to despise myself for her death. Maybe I should’ve just grabbed her rifle and made a run for it, but I couldn’t stop hitting her. I couldn’t.

Which terrified me.

And I had never figured out what had made us both so different from each other. Was it our heritage, our families and culture? I had taken away a daughter, sister, a granddaughter, or a friend of someone’s. Papa would be so ashamed he would never want to see me again. Had Benny noticed what I had done, would he even still look up at me? The further I moved forward, the heavier my heart grew.

Whenever I heard the sound of a twig snapping or rustling in the bushes, I always made sure to duck and hide. On top of the dozens and dozens of trees that surrounded me, I could make the out the jagged outline from the mountain I was approaching. From the best of my memory, the others were heading north. I didn’t know how far the city was from here, because there were multiple civilians lingering around the trees at night, looking for something.

Sometimes screams echoed in the woods, and I would see a few prisoners running between the trees, trying to escape the civilians running right at their heels with their dogs barking loudly. I climbed up the tree and would peek between the branches. My heart beat like a drum once they caught up to them. The pleas for mercy from my people rang in my ears as they were dragged away from my sight.

Finding food was even more difficult, and every time I found a water source, such as a nearly dried up stream or a river, civilians would be guarding it, holding their rifles and pacing back and forth. Most of them men and women, and sometimes their children kept watch. Nighttime was better, because it was easier to blend in the shadows. But the constant headaches and vomiting from the heat made me more miserable than ever, and I didn’t care for a single bite of food. Water was all I needed; it was all I thought about. With my bound, bleeding wrists, I began to scrape and poke for any yucca roots in the ground.

Whenever it rained, I collected as much of it as I could.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes to the sensation of something sharp being pressed against my neck. To my dismay, the old plastic container that was my water source had been stolen. A woman, dressed in civilian clothing, hovered above me. Her hand was shaking, and I winced in pain as a drop of blood traveled down to my chest. Strands of her straw colored hair stuck out in the air.

“You move, you’re dead.”

Tears sprung up in my eyes as she made me get to my feet and walk. Why hadn’t I been more careful? I could’ve spent the night in a tree instead, even though I always had the fear of falling down and breaking my neck. I couldn’t go back; I would be sentenced to death for the murder of a civilian for sure.

The woman spat on the ground as we reached the reached the top of a hill. Another civilian, a man with graying hair and a beard, leaned against a tree trunk and rolled his eyes when he saw me. He threw his hat down in frustration as the woman shoved me to the ground. I gripped the dirt with both hands, my arms shaking.

The man sighed with frustration. "Is this all what you could find? They’re not gonna want this animal back, and we won’t get a single gallon because of it. She’s a skeleton, and probably can’t lift anything. What work can she do for them, Dani?”

“Well, maybe if you would try to help, I wouldn’t be finding all the weak ones. She’s the first one who is actually alive, not lying dead in a ditch or something.”

The man sighed. “We won’t even get a drop for her.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Dani exploded, kicking me hard against the ribs with her heavy boots. The pain was so bad I collapsed on the ground. Her dark skin glistened with sweat underneath the sun. “Our children are at home with nothing to drink.”

A sparrow landed on a branch nearby, singing a tune. I braced myself as the man’s shadow loomed over me and grabbed me roughly by the face so that I could face him. His eyes were full of rage.

“All of this is your fault,” he yelled. “Do you hear me? If your kind didn’t exist, none of this would be happening right now.You caused all of this. And you’re not going to say anything, because you think you’re better than us? You’re trash, you’re nothing!”

“I’m going to kill her,” Dani said. “I’ll do it before the Red Mamba does, since she’s worthless anyways.”

A chill ran down my spine as the man raised his fist in the air, and I saw stars for a moment before my head slammed on the ground. I tried to drag myself in the dirt to get away from them, but when the woman’s knife made contact with my skin, black dots clouded my memory. A garbled sound escaped from my mouth.

* * * * *

I could barely open my eyes, since they were so swollen. The taste of dirt and blood lingered in my mouth, and when I spat out the few rocks, I realized they were teeth.

The setting sun made the sky orange and purple above. Flies landed on my legs and arms. To my surprise, I could still move, even though the pain was unbearable. In the dim light, my blood stained my rags, the leaves, and darkened the earth around me. When I managed to gather enough strength to raise my head, I noticed the couple was gone.

How long had I been here?

I tried not to look at the deep gashes in my skin, or the infected gunshot wounds that were starting to leak with pus. Slowly, I rose to my feet, leaning against the tree trunks for support as I stumbled my way forward. The pine cones pricked my bare feet as I collapsed to my knees, gritting my teeth in pain. It was so hard to see because of the tears in my eyes, so I began to crawl on my hands and knees.

It was a mystery to me why the civilians did not finish the job. The thought of them even hesitating was unusual, since I was worthless to them. My life meant nothing to them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how right Papa was.

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It was wrong to be influenced by their modern creations and knowledge, because we would inherit the very same rage. They were angry because they thought we were the cause of their problems. I wondered what made them think so, but I knew for sure that I would never go near one or dare to even be seen by one, since they would attack for sure.

After crawling for hours, the sound of rustling water was music to my ears. I began to move faster, ignoring the pain that shot up from my arms and legs.

Not too far away away, a small stream flowed at the edge of a few trees. Slowly, I sank myself in the deliciously cold water, flinching in pain from my injuries. Thankfully there weren’t any civilians nearby, as hunting for us in the dark was worthless because they couldn’t see a thing. After peeling off some of the mud, I made sure to let myself sit there for a few moments, letting the water flow through my short curls, which were full of leaves, grass and mud.

I decided it would be best to make camp here, but I would have to find somewhere to hide. As I crawled out, I dried myself off the best I could with willow leaves, my blood stained shift soaking wet. After drinking my fill of the brown colored water, I couldn’t help but shiver. It still was excruciatingly painful to move, but at least some of the blood washed off.

To my dismay, the bleeding continued when I curled up between the bushes and tried to close my eyes. I had tried to staunch up the cuts the best I could with wild moss, but it leaked through. I couldn’t stop crying, my sniffles the only sound in the dark night. I didn’t want to die and leave my baby brother in this world. I would never forgive myself for it. He needed me, and it hurt to imagine what had happened with the others.

I had failed him.

I slowly turned on my back and gazed at the heavens above, letting the fresh tears roll down my cheeks.

Back at the village nobody really looked at me or thought I was strange, sometimes giggling when I tried to sign to them and mimicking my hand movements. I often followed them when they weren’t looking and peered out from behind a tree as they laughed with their friends. Sometimes they would throw rocks at me as I passed by them in the fields. The other girls my age had spread rumors and often avoided me, so I spent a lot of time secretly drawing in the woods. A girl discovered my sketches hidden underneath a bush and brought them to our chief, who disgraced Papa in front of all of his friends and neighbors, setting him off with a warning. My father was so furious he burned all of my drawings, and I was left with nothing but a handful of ashes, a bloody nose, and a black eye that was so swollen it was hard to see out of for days.

I’ve known for a long time that the civilians went to a place to study and get more knowledge about their culture. Even thought it was forbidden to speak about it in my village, I recalled someone talking about how it was called college, and that there were hundreds of them on this island. The civilans could study and learn about whatever they wanted, about any subject they chose.

I hoped to go there one day and learn more about the arts.

* * * * * *

For the next two weeks I wandered listlessly in the huge woods, trying to get out of it and find a trace of my people. Was I the only one from my village who had survived the invasion? I felt that it was becoming more of the case as I saw more and more bodies of prisoners surrounding me. Soldiers and civilians rapidly ran the place, and I made sure to crawl and not make a sound when they were around, placing a hand over my mouth to stifle my breathing.

My wounds weren’t healing. I didn’t look at them.

It was after one afternoon of endless walking that I heard the loud crash of logs falling over in the earth. Startled by the noise, I crouched behind an old, sturdy oak tree and watched the civilans swinging at smaller ones by a few empty fields, their axes biting into the tree bark. Sweat poured their faces, and they stopped to take breaks to laugh and joke with their fellow workers.

My stomach growled when they pulled out sandwiches from wrinkled brown paper bags and ate with their comrades. The sight of fluffy white bread made me stare. When they left, I made sure to scour the ground for any crumbs. Most days I was lucky, others not so much. On a rare occasion I managed to find a large crust in the dirt, and I wolfed it down.

I took off stumbling into the trees one night when I had stayed behind too long. In a daze, as I heard a twig snap, I dove behind one of the bushes. A very tall, big man wielding his axe, came up from the edge of the field. I couldn’t see his face or anything as he began chopping at one of the trees, although it was not as powerful as the other civilians I had seen do it.

He left his snack right on a tree stump. I slowly crept forward, my bare feet barely making a sound against the soft earth. The civilian’s back was turned away. My fingers wrapped around it, but then I hesitated before sliding out the sandwich, making sure not to cause too much noise when I took off the wrapper. It wasn’t right to steal, and I felt awful for it, even though I wanted to cram the whole thing in my mouth. With a shaky hand, I tore off a large piece of ham and bread before placing it back neatly, like nothing had happened.

To my delight, the civilian didn’t notice a thing, just kept swinging at the tree, sometimes stopping to take breaks to drink out of a small water bottle. I enjoyed checking out what unique items he brought with him, which included a book, flashlight, and more delicious sandwiches. The book caught me by great interest, but the instant I heard him approaching I would shove it in his bag and crawl back into the bushes, watching him. Due to his incredible height and size; I marveled at the strength he had to move such heavy logs, though he grunted and panted. His hands were large.

When I started to come back every night for the bread crusts he was there, to my relief, because that sandwich had been so good. In my mind, I called him Sandwich King, since he seemed to savor his meals like he had royalty in his blood. He never started to eat before he began his job or not even during his breaks. He chewed his food very slowly when he was done working, like he was listening for something.

I wondered how someone could waste food like that. I enjoyed the crusts the civilian carelessly left behind, but afterwards I made sure he was gone before helping myself and stepping out from the shadows. One time he left a whole slice of ham, which was a treat. As I greedily tore into it, I had the oddest sensation that I was being watched, but there were nothing but trees and moss and leaves when I looked around. Yet I knew I had to be careful, because he would attack the moment he saw me with his axe.

I always stayed hidden.

Most of the time after he finished the job he would sit on one of the stumps and stare longingly into the woods, sometimes leaning against a tree trunk. And I wondered, often, why he chose to work at such a late time, when no one was about. No doubt he had a wife and children waiting for him at home.

It was hard to see what he looked like, but as the moonlight partially spilled over him late one evening I noticed that, even far away, he had the brightest red hair I had ever seen on a person, and his pale skin was streaked with sweat and dirt. He looked frightening, a lost creature that wandered the earth. To my shock, he didn’t eat the sandwich, but gently placed the whole thing on the tree stump, standing still. Then, after reaching in his bag, he slowly put a few more on top, stacking them all together.

Carefully I crouched down on my knees, but he did not leave as he usually did at this time so that I could feast on his scraps. What was he waiting for? Why wasn’t he eating? Was he not hungry? Maybe he didn’t like this one and planned to take it back, which meant no dinner tonight.

At first it then hit me; the Sandwich King was probably angry since he had found out what had happened to his food. The thought terrified me, and I remembered Dani and her foul mouthed husband. This civilian would not hesitate to slit my throat or sell me, for sure. I was a foolish girl for not taking heed, and I began to wonder if I should stop coming here. I started to quietly crawl away to head back to my camp, hoping to look for some pine nuts instead that would hold me throughout the night. But there was something else about his expression that caught me completely off guard, and I couldn’t help but notice.

He looked sad.