We crept out of our hiding place and wandered around the bent, twisted woods for several months, walking upon nothing most of the time. Only trees and dirt and sky met our eyes. Sometimes we searched for fresh drinking water in nearby puddles and streams, other times the bamboo stalks had plenty of rainwater to keep us going. Sunlight did not come down upon the tree branches; it was as if everything was shrouded in dark shadows. But the aroma of smoke lingered in my throat and tongue, often causing me to cough.

Svetty remained absent on these grueling trips throughout the various months; she stayed in the hideout, lost and forgotten as no one really spoke of her or mentioned her name that often. Most people spoke foul of her; and I heard many rumors of her. The faces of the other men and women around me were blurred and smeared like paints against the surface of a piece of paper.

The charred, blackened remains of a flimsy wooden structure soon came into view as we reached the clearing; air still heavy with smoke. Not a single green blade of grass stuck up from the scorched earth, but a heavy sensation settled over my chest as I began to run, pushing past those who were in front of me. The stench of human flesh met my nose, and the hidden figures that laid on the dirt made me sink to my knees. Shadows stretched around me, but I did not look at them. Hagar's bloodied blanket was half buried and torn near the curled fingertips of either Kia's or Toku's or Adlai's. Or anyone who I had encountered before; I couldn’t distinguish who was who.

Why hadn't I stayed to help? I deserved to lie among them. I had fled, like a coward. I had abandoned and left them to die for good. They were turned into heaps of white ash, soon to be mixed in with the shriveled grass and dirt.

My knees buckled; I crawled towards them, desperately tried to make out their faces; including the young or old, but their features were unrecognizable. Something hot was spilling down my cheeks and poured directly into my mouth, tasting strongly of salt. Vomit rose up my throat and leaked out of my mouth as I hacked my lungs out. Jene started to pull me back, but I began to swing and struggle from her strong grasp, my strangled sobs becoming the only sound amongst the others who simply stared at the sight. It took two other men to drag me away. Repeatedly, I kept swinging my fist into the dirt, over and over, although they tried to make me stop. I tried to rip my hair out. Some people didn't move and remained still at the sight, before others weakly using their arms, began to dig shallow graves.

* * * * * * * *

"Here," a man said. "Drink this."

My head was too heavy to raise to even look up at the wooden bowl, filled with some sort of salty broth. After another unsuccessful day of searching, we had gathered around a small fire; arms and legs still smudged with the dirt and mud and ash. Night had come too many times. Steam rose from the soup's surface, but I turned away as he continued to hold it out. Jene's voice suddenly broke through my thoughts, making me shiver.

"Leave her alone, Ian. She doesn't want it."

He sighed. "But she's been like that all week. What's the point of rescuing someone only to see them die later? I've hardly seen her eat a thing."

The woman tossed a twig into the flames, playing with a knife that she had hidden underneath her skirt. Her hair was in a loose braid that hung across her shoulder. "Well, no shit. I don't think anyone could quite be the same after seeing what we did. You and I and most of us here are plenty used to it. She'll adjust over time."

Ian hesitated, before placing the bowl next to me on the log I was sitting on. "I'll just leave this here."

"I think we should call it quits on this area and head back," one of the shorter women muttered. She had a rough appearance; though her dark brown skin was covered in thick bandages."Try the city next, I reckon. We'd have better luck up there."

"That's not a really good idea," Jene replied. "Too many soldiers and the civilians have already gone haywire. It seems as if both parties have lost their minds." She sighed, the light catching on the K shaped scar on her face. "Though you may have a point. I doubt anyone is in these parts, at least no one who is alive. Besides, the closest place near us is Navu, and that's infested with the Red Mambas."

"Well, we can't continue to stay in Selva for long. They're going to wipe out the city real soon. Svetty's been telling us---"

"Damn it all, Victoria!" Ian suddenly rose to his feet. "The last thing we need to do is to take advice from a blasted civilian." He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "I don't care where she says. Not a word that comes from her mouth can be trusted. And you ought to be ashamed."

A deep haze of red crossed the smaller woman's face. "Well, do you have a better fucking idea? Because I would love to hear your own advice."

"Look, arguing is not going to help us. At this point, it doesn't matter who says what," Jene calmly replied. Her eyes lingered on me, but just for a brief moment. "If we have to move, we will. Svetty will accompany us because of her skills. She has always kept her place. And that's final."

Ian slumped into his seat and folded his arms. "I wouldn't trust her as freely as you insist we do. The problem is mostly that, well, the soldiers keep on constantly relocating our own people, to the point that using a map is unreliable. They're scattered all over the place. Two of our own men have recently been caught and sent back to the wards because they were trying to find the camps. We need someone who is consistently able to be with them, but in disguise, so we are able to know where they are intending to send our people next."

"You must be joking," Ian snorted. "Forget it."

"That's suicidal in a way, almost," Victoria said. She tightly grasped her bowl of soup, not even flinching as it began to burn her fingers. The orange and yellow light highlighted the warm corners of her small, round face. "And impossible, too, as well. How would be able to cover our scars, and, you know, even act like a civilian? You would have to be around one all the time to even get a clear idea. It's pathetic."

"Well, I need someone to do this for me as we figure out a place to move to."

"That's not possible," Ian quietly said.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, followed by someone else coughing.

"It was just a thought," Jene snapped.

My heart skipped a beat as a lump of coal broke off from the fireplace. I managed to make eye contact with hed as I slowly raised my hand, my chest rising up and down with each shaky, unreliable breath. She raised an eyebrow but didn't seem to be surprised, almost as if she had anticipated my response. As a matter of fact, everyone's eyes were on me.

"I will," I signed, before trying to gesture my crooked words once more. After pointing to my chest, I made a quick motion, although my eyes were still puffy and a deep headache had overtaken my senses. "I'll do it."

"What's she babbling on about now?" Victoria hissed to Ian. He shrugged, though his gaze was fixed intently on me. But Jene began to slightly frown, a deep look of intrigue spread on her face.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next few evenings proved to be very unsuccessful with finding supplies, but I kept repeatedly taking Svetty's civilian clothing in order to be able to walk among those in the streets. There was no way to sleep due to the nightmares that dominated my mind. I didn't need it. As a matter of fact, I had such a hard time I began to search in garbage cans in some sort of way. I had managed to sneak into an abandoned shop and located a few good brushes, half used acrylic paints, and four small broken oil pastels inside of a smashed cardboard box. A small smile lit up on my face when my eyes settled on a couple of pencils, water stained sketchbooks, and mostly untouched canvas boards.

During the daytime, when I wore my regular brown dress, Svetty began speaking less to me; giving me her odd looks. But I didn't pay much attention to her antics, as fatigue took its course during the day. Mostly I was missing out on whatever the others were planning to do, because we headed out once more into the fields and did not return. In the distance we could see the destroyed remains of Navu; we decided to play it safe and not go through the city, although it was abandoned and full of decaying structures.

From a great distance, I could make out a village, hidden directly in a tall valley. A pungent smell rose upon us, and several remains of dismembered Red Mamba soldiers were scattered about. Some heads were placed on sticks, their rotting heads collecting flies and maggots. As we began to step through the woods, it was freezing cold, and melted snow and ice sloshed beneath our bare feet. Ian kept begging for us to walk in the fields, because he was complaining about the unbearable smell. But that was the last thing on my mind; my eyes fell upon the looming patterns of frost that were against the rocks.

We made our way through the tall grass, others to scrambled to get a closer look at the sight below. A larger one, bustling with people and animals and crops. The men in our group began to chuckle and laugh as the women excitedly chattered amongst themselves. But I remained behind, even as we got closer to the entrance and noticed a few of the villagers holding guns, pointing them at us. A loud exchange occurred between both of us.

"Easy! Easy!" a tall, booming voice rang out.

We all turned our heads towards the noise. A tall, slender man with dark hair pushed past those who had their weapons raised toward us. His beard was neatly trimmed. He had some sort of a cocky grin, although a rifle hung across his right shoulder. Jene frowned and folded her arms, more annoyed than frightened.

”Who goes there?” he asked.

"Is this how you treat a fellow sister?" she demanded. She then proceeded to push her hair out of her face, revealing the K shaped scar present on her cheek. "Perhaps we should go on our way, since we are the obviously enemies." With a scowl on her face, she motioned for the others to follow her.

"No, no, no!" the man exchanged, anxiety settling his dark eyes. He quickly stepped in front of us, clearing this throat. I found it curious how easily his confidence seemed to diminish. "You are guests. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Please, you must eat something. Most likely you are tired after your travels." A look of discomfort settled on his face. "Did you...just past through there? In the woods?”

Bewilderment fell upon us as we began to murmur at his question. Jene appeared confused and turned her head, following his pointed finger. "Yes.”

"For your safety, I implore you to never go to the woods. When we hunt, we always go near the outskirts. But not through the trees. Never. It's a rule that everyone who lives here must follow."

"And who the hell are you to determine what we should or shouldn't do?" Victoria snapped. The sun was so hot the entire top of her dress was drenched with sweat.

"I am but a brother looking out for his own kind. As you should for us. My name is Fritz," he patiently answered. "Come, you must meet my leader. All of you."

We looked at each other, before reluctantly following him. I could not keep my eyes away from the place. The amount of goats and chickens were staggering, even a few cows grazed in the grass. How could such a place thrive in the midst of decay and destruction? A cool wind blew, causing my hair to float around my shoulders. I sighed with relief, before noticing how several of the men walking by paused their tasks to gaze at me, as if they were stuck in some trance. One of them loudly whistled. I tried to hide my reddening face.

A soft hand suddenly reached over and grabbed mine. I quickly looked over to see Svetty walking next to me. She did not make eye contact with me, but I was suddenly relieved that she was here with us. Her eyes were gazing straight forward, lips tightly pursed together as we reached a large grass hut, much larger than the others. Fritz stopped and held his hands out, smiling again.

"This is the home of our leader," he said. "He would like all of you to come in. That is, except..." The disgusted look that fell on his face was directed at Svetty. She stared at her dirty boots.

"Do not mind her," Jene said. "She keeps to herself, she won't even bother anyone here."

"She will have to wait outside." Fritz gave another tight smile, though I could make out a faint hint of anger in his eyes. "Everyone else can come in."

I glared at this man for a hard second. He couldn't be older than twenty years old. Who did he think he was, anyway? As the others began to file inside, I held Svetty's hand a bit tighter. I wasn't sure why. More so it was because I did not want to be alone in this place; I suddenly wanted to flee into the woods and stay there. Unfortunately, Fritz studied me. He gestured forward with one hand.

"You...too.." he stammered, his eyes falling upon me. "Ladies first, as they say. Of course, the pretty ones should be in front of the crowd."

He smiled, although awkwardly clearing his throat when he noticed I did not return it. I was getting ready to protest when Svetty's hand released my own. When I turned to her, she gave me a slight nod, to my utter dismay.

"Go," she said. "I'll be fine."

"But..." I signed. "I can't just leave you out here."

"You have a duty, similar to the rest of us," the woman said in a low voice. "You must."

A burning sensation washed over my face. She gave me a long, hard look, before turning and walking away. I stood there for a long time, wanting to call her back, but unable to move. But there was no time to ponder such things. And when I slipped into the hut, past the smelly, sweaty bodies; I deeply hated myself for not simply asking in the first place.

* * * * * * * *

These meetings routinely continued on several days in a week. I found them quite meaningless, since his other comrades, a gruff man with a bow and arrow and a younger man would go on and on about how there was a beast in their midst. While Fritz seemed enthusiastic about the topic, George, the man who they so dearly entrusted their lives with, appeared ill, forlorn. Dark circles settled on his eyes, and he often, if not rarely, engaged with us. I often wondered what was troubling him so.

Many nights I would see him standing at the edge of the village, holding onto small broken pieces of bark and surrounded by several, if not dozens of turtle shells filled to the brim with mushrooms, berries, yucca roots, and all sorts of food. He would remain there all night, staring at the fresh supply, before ordering his men in the morning to take the food to the villages.

We all were given a place to stay, a hut with cots and hammocks that hung from the ceiling. It soon did not take long for Jene to exclude me from the meetings. Since the others didn't see me as much use, I fetched water, cleaned out the animal troughs, and learn how to cook the daily meals, which mainly came from those turtle shells. Morning it was soup or some sort of boiled eggs that the chickens hatched, lunch involved stew, evenings roasted rabbit. Burns settled on the wrist of my only arm, and the women would stop to laugh and make fun of me as I got flour all over myself. I kept burning the food, to the point that Jene ended up yelling at me due to the fact that we had no supper. Her face was bright red.

Due to preparing the meals for a great deal of individuals, burn marks and scars crossed my arms. I spent hours scraping out dried bits of soup from the bottom of the pot and serving heavy bowls of stew to the men and women gathered around the table. I scrubbed so many plates and pots in boiling water that my fingers became wrinkled and sore. And early in the mornings, I hoisted up buckets of water over my shoulder from the well and carried them to each hut. This took me a good three hours or more to do, and Jene would slap me hard in the face for spilling one. Laundry was no different; if even a spot was found on someone's clothes, they would complain to Jene. And that encounter often ended up with a bloody nose, a busted lip. Due to her being much taller and stronger than me, I didn't stand a chance.

As I milked the goats each morning, I found how Fritz's eyes often lingered on me. He winked at me from time to time, but a look of exasperation would settle on his face as I ignored his presence. Worst of all, he would stand with his two other comrades and whistle to me. I tried my best to avoid him, but he always seemed to be around. Once he tried to offer me flowers, but when I simply walked past him, his buddies would hoot and erupt with laughter as his face would become a dark red shade.

I had to adjust and tie my skirt tighter around my waist due to how much weight I was losing. What food I did get were the scraps I often snuck back to the tent to share with Svetty to make sure Jene wouldn't see.

At nights, I laid exhausted on my back from the hammock but completely unable to fall asleep, staring at the straw roof. One of my bare feet dangled from the edge. I gently ran my fingers across the sketchbook, slowly exhaling, listenind to everyone else's light snores. Svetty was lying on her pallet in the corner, blanket bunched around her waist. When I slowly approached her pallet, she opened her eyes to look at me.

My vision was blurry. "I need your help."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The woman sighed, but I knelt down.

"I want to leave."

"What for?" she softly asked.

"I'm going up north to find a job," I signed. "The generals love having their portraits done, and I figured that I could gather valuable information if I worked in their homes. If I could look...look somewhat like you, no one would suspect me."

Svetty slowly sat up, her face now completely full of shock. "Espionage?"

I didn't reply.

"You're going to---"

"Jene once said this was the best course of action."

"No! They're going to hang you! You have no experience in such a thing. The people in this group cannot even read or write. How will they understand?"

"That is what you can help me with."

"Me?"

"Yes. You can tell George so that he will know where to send his men in the cities."

"You are foolish. It is not so simple."

A lump rose in my throat. "Then at least I have done something worthwhile for my people in this lifetime. I failed before by running away and abandoned those who needed me the most. I'll die trying to succeed."

"You mustn't!" She grabbed my arm, her voice in a low whisper. "If they figure out who you are, they will torture you until they squeeze every last bit of information of you. We are already in enough trouble being down here with these people."

"And the Snakes already took everything from me," I gestured. "They did the same to you. My family, the people I love. I have nothing else. Not a thing. I only ask for your help, to show me how to be like you. To act like a city woman. You must teach me the ways of the civilians."

"What?!"

Her voice was so loud I placed a finger over my lip.

"Shhh. You'll wake everyone up."

"As I should, with you saying such things. Have you gone in the head? Fritz will disapprove, and he will kick us all out. He already despises me."

"Who cares about him? The others believe I'm worthless, so they are unlikely to notice anyway."

"What do you mean?"

I swallowed hard. "George is trying to get more people here. He wants to go up north as well. I need you to tell him what I plan to do in order to make it a bit easier for him. He needs information so we can locate the others. That is what we are lacking here. I am going to try Portia first. Then Flanders. I've made up my mind, and if you refuse to help me, I'll find another way."

Svetty studied me, her blue eyes glistening in the light. Something seemed wash over her.

"Please," I shakily signed. "Please."

* * * * * * *

At first, she refused. My small stash of art supplies remained hidden from Jene's eyes, and I kept practicing at night in order to not have anymore nightmares. I milked the goats and carried the warm buckets carefully with one arm up the large hill for the group to consume later, having to make two trips at a time. With a small stone axe, I chopped off the head of a chicken and plucked its feathers, letting its blood run across the rings of the wooden stump.

I begged Svetty for several weeks to at least let me visit the civilian world; in order to have somewhat of an idea of how it work d. Then it started with simple instruction towards how to act like a civilian. We often did this in the secret of the night. Svetty had four dresses that she made me try on, which she made sure to make me clean if I got an ounce of dirt or grass on them.

It was midnight when Svetty shook me awake, although I couldn't believe I had slept at all due to the deep anxiety that took over me. After stealing one or George's maps, we managed to make it a smaller city directly outside of Portia, although I did not change until we got there and she applied what she called concealer over my scar in the woods and made me put on the dress. I did not know what concealer was, but she explained that it was a soft cream that the women of her people would wear to look beautiful; to hide blemishes and other imperfections. The trek through the woods had not been an easy one, and we had to drink from puddles in order to stay hydrated.

The neighborhoods, however, were nothing I had ever seen before as we made our way through the cobblestone streets. Bright green lawns met our eyes; even the cars were brand new and shone in late morning light. In complete contrast to Navu, Portia was crammed with people. General and lieutenants smiled and waved to the civilians who they were exploiting with straight, white teeth. The faint sound of gunshots and screaming echoed in the air; and the sight of my people being bound in chains and led into the back of trucks made my stomach turn. By instinct, I tried to place my hand above my cheek to hide my scar--before realizing that no one could see it.

"I'm only going to escort you this first time," Svetty said. "But after that, you are on your own. I don't want you to speak about this with me back at the village in front of anyone; only when it is safe. Whatever happens to you is your responsibility, and your responsibility alone."

I didn't turn to watch her leave in the clouds of dust that rose in the air. My curls stuck up in the air. The map was folded and tucked neatly into my bra. Similar towards the village, the people were unrecognizable, yet, they were clean and neatly dressed, as was I. It was so odd to be wearing shoes I wondered how anyone could keep up with such a habit. But there was no time to ponder these things. In a daze, I wandered to the first house, and, after a moment of hesitation, began to observe its brightly red painted door.

* * * * * * * *

"Where have you been? After all that we have done for you, this is how you repay me?"

Jene's voice echoed in my ears as I rushed towards her, pushing past several people. Blood leaked from my scraped arms and legs. My breaths were heavy; the shoes I had borrowed from Svetty were hidden behind a tree trunk in the woods. I ended up dropping the sketchbooks multiple times, scooping them up. The sun was halfway in the sky. Her face was panicked as she looked at me up and down, taking in the clothing I was in. "You had me worried sick!"

I gazed at my paint smudged hand, unable to tell her anything. She clicked her mouth in disgust before pulling me forward. A broad shouldered man with a beard soon joined us, his head low.

"You cannot just go off without telling me, you foolish girl. Disappearing and all. What if someone sees you and follows you down here, where we all will be in trouble? What's wrong with you? Do you lack common sense? Or maybe you are just as foolish as you look. And you still haven't milked the goats this morning. Why are you slacking off with your work?"

I helplessly stared at her.

"Hello," the man calmly said, in an attempt to break the tension in the air between us. His eyes were red rimmed, swollen. "My name is George. Jene has told me quite a bit about you."

Before I could politely nod and inform him I already knew his name, Jene rolled her eyes. "She's quite stupid, she doesn't understand a word. Why did you want to see her, again? She is mute."

With one swift motion, I pried my arm out of her grasp. She turned around, shocked as I glared at her, chest rising up and down.

"That's it, I've had it with you," she hissed. "You are working double time tonight, and that's final. I don't want to hear another word from you."

"You are the stupid one," I signaled, feeling all the blood rush to my cheeks. "I'm trying to help you. All of you. What if I said that you are self entitled and stuck up? How would you like that? At least I can write my own name. You can't even do that."

"Is she deaf?" George quietly asked. "Perhaps we need someone to translate for her. Though I don't believe we have anyone who knows sign--"

I threw my sketchbooks as hard as I could at him. He winced in pain, stumbling back in shock, almost, as they slammed against his arms. Cherry blossoms from a nearby tree fell around us and rained upon us. Jene swore, and I turned and ran off, water spilling down my cheeks. A man herding a group of goats was in my way, and I roughly pushed him aside. I was leaving this place for good, and never coming back. This island, perhaps. I would swim away.

"Honda!" Jene yelled. She stepped forward, face red, a hand on her hip. "Honda get back here and apologize. Honda!"

Her words melted away as I kept running, tears spilling down my face and cheek and blurring my vision. I didn't know where to, exactly, and I didn't care. I just needed to get away from these people. I no longer had to hold Papa or Benny's memories close, since they had thrown away every single one they possessed of me. I had nowhere to go.

* * * * * * * *

Less huts started to appear in front of me before they completely vanished. When I reached a large grass field, the sounds of crickets filled my ears. I sank to my knees in the damp, tall grass, not caring if I got Svetty's dress dirty. Water dripped and spilled on my stained fingers. For a moment, my sobs filled the air as weeks of holding everything back finally overwhelmed me and my breaths were heavier. As I wiped my face with my sleeve, I suddenly wanted my sketchbooks back, but knew that they were probably a lost cause.

A cold wind blew, causing the rows of cornstalks in front of me to move along with it. Their stems bent and swayed in a deep rhythm, stretching on for miles and miles. In this area, besides a long crooked line drawn in the dirt, there were nothing but acres and acres of land that stretched in front of me. Ripe ears of bright yellow corn hung from the towering plants above me. In a daze, I rose to my feet, squinting to see in the shadows of the trees. It was a very peaceful and quiet place, though devoid of any soul or person, and it was if something was pushing me closer.

Snow lightly began to fall from above. I held my hand out, confused and glanced at the clear blue sky, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

The mud clung to my bare feet and the hem of my dress as I made my way through the field, the warm sun beating down upon my back and shoulders. Ladybugs and spiders crawled on the stems. A faint cracking sound caught my attention; beautiful patterns of frost grew on the leaves and blossomed on its tips. When I touched it, it was cold and powdery to the touch against my fingers. The white texture began to grow, and curiosity got the best of me as I followed its crooked path, making my way through more cornstalks, gently pushing them out of the way with my hand.

When I stumbled out at the end of the last row of cornstalks, a clearing met my eyes, to which a small, dilapidated shack sat not too faraway from me. The large oak tree nearby spread its branches toward the sky, the leaves many bright colors. Yet the insides of the shelter were pitch black, and I squinted my eyes for a moment, peering, catching the shape of a hidden figure near the threshold, almost. Before I could go inside to get a better look, a rough hand suddenly grabbed my arm and spun me around.

Fritz had both of his hands on his shoulders. His eyes were wide with concern. "There you are. Were you trying to leave? No one is allowed to without George's permission. The outside is a dangerous place. You are required to stay here."

I stared at him.

"Why do you come here? Haven't you learned anything at all? There is a beast out here, wandering free. You can't be in this place."

"Beast?" I tried to sign.

His dark eyes widened. "We have been trying to hunt it down for a while. It has attacked several of our brothers and sisters, and feasts on any form of human flesh it can get its claws on. Do you want to be like those corpses in the woods?"

Slowly, I shook my head.

"No," he snapped. "Then don't go there. Don't you ever come near the woods again. It is not good for a pretty girl like you."

It was hard for me to sign anything. The last thing I needed was to humiliate myself even more.

"You've been gone for hours. We've been worried about you, especially Jene." The man gave a sideways glance to the shed, before letting me go. "I told her you were missing. You shouldn't be here, alright? No one from the village is allowed in this place. Only George, and even he doesn't even like to come here when he has to harvest. It's dangerous. You must stay away from it. For me, at least."

I tried to ask why, but he was already pulling me away, back through the field. When I turned to look behind, the figure was gone. I blinked twice to make sure I wasn't really going as crazy as Svetty suspected.

* * * * * * * *

Jene burned three of my sketchbooks and most of my pencils. No matter how hard I tried to fight her back to stop her from doing so, they were gone, turned into ashes. Her fist collided against my face as I landed to the ground. When she ordered me to start supper, I listened to her boots crunched against the dirt, trying to wipe the blood dripping down my nose. Fortunately, I already had one hidden under my pillow, and a chunk of led hidden beneath the waistband of my skirts. I crawled to the fireplace, breathing heavily, scooping up the dark brown grains of the paper I used my sketches for.

I wrote a brief note to Svetty explaining why I was leaving and thanked her for helping me, but didn't have the heart to give it to her in person. I simply placed it under one of her boots next to our cots.

The next evening's meal, or the last one I anticipated making for the village, was roasted chicken and potatoes that I had hoed in the garden. I must've done something right because the meat wasn't burned and Jene didn't complain this time. Neither did Victoria or Ivan. George seemed to look deeply disturbed by my black eye as the others laughed and ate, but it didn't matter. None of it did. As soon as midnight fell and I had finished scrubbing down and cleaning up the mess they had made with a rag, I knelt behind my sleeping pallet and slowly pulled out my remaining sketchbook. Gently, I traced my finger over its water damaged surface, which was curled around the edge. Something wet leaked from my face and landed on one of the lines of the doodle. Roughly, I wiped my bloodied nose and placed it in a knapsack I had stolen from one of the meetings, along with my last pencil, a few potatoes and bread that was sure to last me throughout the journey. I put the remains of Svetty's concealer in there as well and was about to close it up when a small noise made me jump.

I slowly turned my head to the side, expecting it to be one of the village men who had too much to drink and was looking for someone to sleep with. To my disbelief, it was a dog. Not like the ones I’ve seen around here. He was a skinny one, with a bouncing tail that never seemed to quite stop moving. It reminded me of one of those large grandfather clocks I saw in the homes of the civilians at my time in Portia.

A greyhound.

His coat was a beautiful shade of aluminum, though rough and with a few bald patches. His tongue was lagging out, lines of clear saliva dripping from his jowls, as if he was about to indulge in a great meal. Yet his large black nose kept sniffing at me, my clothes, my hands, my face. Curiously, I stared at the animal, before kneeling down and holding my hand out with a scrap of chicken. I hadn't seen that many dogs around here in the village in general, and wondered where his master was. As he noisily chomped down the piece of meat, he began to lick my nose, his warm tongue pressing slobbering kisses on my nose and cheeks, causing a faint smile to break across my face for the first time in a while. His wet snout and whiskers brushed against my palm.

Suddenly, the greyhound whined, turning his head towards something in the distance. Before I could figure out what he was looking at, I immediately sensed mt satchel being yanked out of my grasp. A wave of panic washed over me when he picked it up by the handle and took off into the dark, past the tapestry, continuing to loudly bark.

I scrambled to my feet and took off after him, not caring how much noise I was making by tripping and stumbling over my feet. My arms and legs were burning as I rushed past a row of huts by the left, desperately trying to keep up. Even when I landed in a puddle of mud, the dog only stopped once, before rushing through a cluster of trees. He leaped over several bushes.

Covered in a layer of sweat, I stood there hesitantly at the dark abyss, remembering Fritz's words. A sudden cold wind fell down upon me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand. The ends of my skirts blew in the wind. Accepting defeat, I began to turn in order to head back to the village, but a faint bark made me stop. After gathering enough courage, I stumbled my way through, feeling around for branches and leaves to grasp on. I could only listen to the dog's heavy breaths as I caught his form, when he began to take off again. Ignoring the sensation of snow clinging to my bare feet, I began to climb up a hill, then another, before reaching a swamped area. Lily pads and dragon lilies met my eyes as I splashed through the water, fighting to see through the dense vegetation. In a patch of moonlight, I could make out the dog's shadow stop in front of a very tall, lanky figure, who slowly knelt down and took my satchel out of his mouth. A very pale, blistered hand, matching the complexion of the moon above us, lightly stroked the greyhound's head. The creature eagerly licked his master’s palm, his face.

Knotted, unkempt strands of bright red hair swayed in the air like curtains, spilling over the ghostly silhouette's arms and face. Leaves and twigs stuck out of their head. When the person slowly stood up, the dog released another bark and rushed towards me, warm swamp water splashing around his legs. His rough tongue eagerly licked my hands, but I couldn't stop staring from the person, who had their gaze upon me as well. In the shadows, they seemed a bit afraid to approach me, almost, possessing some what of a shy nature.They were entirely made out of skin and bones, ribs and hips poking through their skin, the ragged, torn pants they wore the only clothing they had. Their long legs looked like sticks. They were coated in mud, and behind the wild waterfall of matted hair revealed only one visible, large brown eye that seemed to reach for my soul. Yet the person seemed to hold their breath, as if waiting for me to flee. Each step they took towards me was with caution, prolonged as they waited for a reaction from me.

I tilted my head to the side, trying to get a better view of them. I simply stood there, intrigued by the figure’s mannerisms. The strap of my satchel loosely dangled from their hands. They clutched it to their chest as if it were a baby, their dirty fingers lightly caressing the worn, netted fabric.

Something was a bit familiar with the very tall man in front of me, as I soon realized when he came a bit closer in the dim moonlight. As I slowly made my way towards him, I noticed that something wasn't quite right with his left leg; that he had a limp. He anxiously raised a hand to his mouth, biting on the ragged edge of a stubby black fingernail, but quickly placed his arm down by his side again. His shadow spilled over me, circular ripples from the water beneath us spreading out from our ankles. He took another slow step towards me, water sloshing around his bare feet, until we were only a few feet apart from each other. His shadow fell upon me.

Cautiously, I reached up with my hand, hesitating, although I was a bit afraid to touch him. But he remained very still, quiet as I was. When I gently pushed back the curtain of matted hair over his face behind his ear, my heart skipped a beat as his wet, bloodshot eyes slowly met mine. The dark bags beneath them revealed to me that he probably hadn’t slept for days, weeks.

A weak breath escaped from his lips; he was aware how I was struggling to take in his appearance. I saw how large his eyes were. Similar to the others I had seen, he was completely unrecognizable, as if something was eating him alive from the inside. And by the look on his face; I knew it was pointless to ask if he knew anything at all about the other people who were once with us.

I immediately pulled him into a tight embrace, burying my head in his naked shoulder. He seemed to melt under my deeply touch. As he firmly wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me close, thousands of questions rose in my mind. But I hardly knew where or how to start asking them. We sank to our knees, my satchel submerged in the water, the greyhound nuzzling his wet nose against my thigh. My chest was racking up, shaking with the sobs that overwhelmed my body. When I warmly placed a hand on the side of the Sandwich King's face, his dirty fingers lightly caressed my wrist. My vision was blurry due to how much water was pouring down my mouth and nose. I think I had snot bubbles forming at the edge of my nose. How had I not noticed, how could I had been so incredibly stupid and oblivious to my own surroundings? As I glanced at the dark, quiet trees around me, I saw how some mushrooms had begun to glow in the air. I soon recognized them from the ones George had collected from the turtle shells he found at the edge of the woods.

I felt him bury his face in my hair for a moment.

Dozens of scars marked his hands, and I noticed some of his fingernails were missing. I needed to get him food. Clothes. Medicine. Blankets. He was far too skinny, a skeleton, with his rib cage trying to pry itself free from him. I had to get him these things as soon as possible, because he appeared to be on the verge of starvation, and I couldn’t imagine what could have occurred if I had stumbled up upon if I had discovered him here a few weeks too late. I tried to sign to him to let him know what I was going to do next but my hand was holding onto his, and I didn’t want to let go. I could hardly breathe as he gently began to rock me side to side in his large arms, my loud sniffing mixing in with the sounds of crickets singing in the night air. As we leaned our foreheads together, the sensation of his ribs pressed against the material of my dress. One of his giant palms lightly rested on the square of my back as my chest rapidly rose up and down. His touch was deeply hungry, and the way he held onto me seemed as if he had not embraced anyone in a very long time. I clung closer to him; he smelled of grass and smoke and sweat, not cigarettes. When his swollen eyelids momentarily closed, his grip on me tightened so much, like a child clutching a beloved toy.

He was here.

The dog was barking, whining, the straps of my satchel floating in the thick green algae that coated my skirts.

I searched Adlai’s muddy face, which was covered in blemishes and scars and stubble. His blistered fingers lightly brushed at the tears on my cheeks, and I did the same with the ones traveling down the tip of his nose. The large brown eyes were searching my own. Our reflections were blurry and disoriented in the warm swamp water, stretched out into abnormal shapes.