The air bit at my skin as I trudged along, my feet dragging through the thick sludge of mud and slush coating the path. The chill sank right into my bones, and I tried not to dwell on how weak and battered I felt each time I lifted one foot to place it in front of the other.
My stomach turned, the relentless nausea rising again, and I pinched my eyes shut, praying it would pass soon. Elisi, beside me, pressed her weight into her walking stick, one step at a time, leaning forward just slightly so that she appeared invincible in her pace, though I could see the stiffness in her joints and the fatigue weighing down her breath.
“Here,” I said, slipping her a bit of mushrooms that were tucked away in my bundle. She held it in her palm a moment, her fingers trembling just a bit before she popped it into her mouth and chewed, her brows furrowed. I still had some winter green tea Elisi taught me how to make tucked away from this morning. Maybe it could help my menstrual pain.
The bitterness of my own medicine stayed in my mouth as I nodded, my hand instinctively going to my abdomen. For days, there’d been this subtle twinge in my stomach. It was strange and unwelcome, especially since I should’ve bled by now. But there was no sign of it, only this odd sensation that filled me with a strange dread. I dreaded the arrival of my monthly courses, knowing I would lack the proper comforts on this journey. They say this journey takes four months, which means four times I must suffer through this, without the comfort of my home, or my mother. The malnutrition, exhaustion, and stress of the journey is affecting my body. And I am young and healthy, I can only imagine how it is affecting Elisi.
The mud started to stick to our feet, and Elisi struggled to keep pace with our group. I could see her bundle that she clutched close to her side start to sway back and forth. Inside that bundle were the few remnants of home she was able to collect. Her woven basket, some dried herbs, and a medicine wheel her father had made.
Her foot caught on a root that was hidden in the rutted trail. She stumbled, the bundle slipping from her grasp as she threw her hands out to break her fall. The contents scattered across the ground.
Before she could gather them, a soldier’s boot stepped into view. He snatched up the items and held it away from her as she reached for it.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Those are sacred to me.”
The soldier snarled, turned the items over in his hands, and one by one, began dropping them to the ground and smashing them with his boot into the mud.
I could see Elisi go numb as she watched each piece crush under his boot. She emanated with a sadness only I could see. She looked up at me, tears cutting through the dust on her face.
Her hands trembled as she tried to gather what little remained, tucking the fragments into her blanket. I picked up what I could and tried to help her get back on her feet.
She kept going, her gaze down, focusing on the ground as her cane sank in and out of the mud.
She was silent for a while. She ignored us when me and several others urged her to try resting a bit on the wagons.
“Elisi,” I whispered, “they were just things. Just pieces. We can find more, make new ones.”
She turned her weary gaze to me, her face a mixture of sorrow and fierce resolve. “No, Rebecca,” she said softly. “These weren’t just things.” She reached into her blanket and held out the shattered pieces of the medicine wheel. “This was given to me by my father. Each stone, each piece of wood, carries meaning. It reminds us of where we come from, who we are meant to be, and how we walk in this world. They're destroying more than just our possessions. They're trying to erase our history, our very identity.”
“If they keep destroying our things,” she said softly, “they will destroy us. We will forget who we are.”
“They think they can pluck us from the earth,” she muttered in Tsalagi, her voice low, “but they can’t take her from us.”
I focused on the ground, watching for anything familiar among the frostbitten leaves and brittle branches as we walked. The pain in my stomach rose up again, a familiar and unwelcome wave, and I reached for the bunch of rosemary and winter green I kept wrapped in my medicine bundle. It had been a small blessing from earlier in the journey, but it barely kept the pain at bay now.
As I chewed on the root, I spotted something tucked under the shade of an old pine—small, slender green leaves with a faint dusting of white. Yarrow. I plucked a few stems; their softness felt cool in my palm and tucked them carefully away in my medicine pouch. It was a plant Elisi had taught me to recognize, useful for everything. But a few feet away, there was something else—a plant with large heart shaped leaves and little purple flowers.
I knelt down, studying it carefully. I didn’t instantly recognize it, but something about it seemed important. When I plucked it out of the ground, the knowledge suddenly came flooding through my mind:
Ginger root: digestive aid, menstrual cramps, fevers, sore throats
I tucked the ginger root into my bundle, knowing now that I can use it on my aching stomach,
I glanced back to see my Elisi walking steadily, her face stoic, though I noticed the slight shiver in her frame.
---
A shout pierced the air, and we all froze, our ears pricking at the sound of violence ahead. My heart clenched, and I pulled Elisi close, shielding her as we watched soldiers drag a young mother and her infant from the crowd.
“You’re slowing us down!” the soldier screamed, shaking his head in frustration. “We can’t keep stopping for every little thing. It is for the best,” trying to justify it to himself. To him, every day on this journey was an inconvenience. In his mind, he is following protocol.
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Her screams shattered the icy silence, desperate pleas that spiraled into helpless sobs as one soldier—his face blank and eyes cold—wrenched the baby from her arms and raised it high.
The mother had stayed close to our group since the beginning. Elisi and I had offered to rock the baby to sleep the first few nights so she could tend to her other children and take a rest. She had been a friend to us, sharing herbs and stories.
I felt a scream claw its way up my throat as he took the baby towards the trees, I bit down on my knuckles, a sharp pain grounding me as I looked away, unable to watch. But the sound of the crack through the trees, a sickening thud that seemed to rip through my chest and settle there, a weight so heavy I could hardly breathe.
The mother crumpled to the ground in an aching silence. Her eyes fixed on what was left in front of her.
We were forced to stumble forward again, in silence now, as if the trail itself demanded our quiet mourning of a moment that would haunt this trail forever.
---
The days blurred together, the ache in my legs growing deeper, but that pain in my stomach never dulled. It throbbed now, like a steady pulse. I’d been taking herbs for the sickness, chewing them like Grandma had shown me, and drinking wintergreen tea for the pain, but still, it wouldn’t let up. I was certain I’d fall to the earth any day now, exhausted and broken, my body betraying me when I needed it most.
We halted as dusk fell, forced to make camp, and I could see Elisi’s shoulders slump, her breaths coming shallow and quick. She sat down slowly, her hand clutching her side, too weak this time to even try gathering wood or arranging the stones for a fire. I knew she wouldn’t be able to manage it tonight.
[Quest activated: Start a fire]
I swallowed hard, the task feeling heavier than it should have. I’d never had to do it before. But as the cold night crept closer and Elisi closed her eyes, I forced myself to my feet, gathering branches and kindling with trembling hands. I knelt and struck a rock against a piece of metal I had found, urging the sparks to catch.
And then, someone moved into the circle of our campfire—a man with fierce, dark eyes and moved with silence. He lowered himself to the ground beside me, watching my fumbling hand.
“You’ll wear yourself out like that,” he said, his voice low and calm. “Here.” He extended a weathered hand with a piece of flint. “Strike it with purpose, not force. Fire knows the difference.” I grabbed the flint from his hand and struck it against the steel as he showed me, and finally a spark jumped into the kindling.
His name was RL, and he carried knowledge with him like an old story, one that only needed a listener to make it whole.
“You see those stars?” he asked, pointing upward. “They guide the hunter and the hunted alike. My clan, the A-ni-wa-ya (ᎠᏂᏩᏯ), we look to them for strength, for protection. They remind us of the wolves, how they hunt together, protect together. And how they always come back for their own.”
His words sank into me, and I nodded, a warmth spreading through me. There was a strength in his gaze. As he spoke, he showed me how to craft and hold a blade in defense, where to press to make a clean strike if I ever had to hunt for food—or for survival.
[New Skill Unlocked: Crafting (Level 1)] Ability to start a fire and craft simple items for survival.
[Item Acquired] Flint shard
[Item Acquired] Simple blade
Beside me, Elisi breathed shallowly, her chest rising and falling with an unsettling slowness that didn’t escape me. Her eyes were closed, lips drawn tight, though she tried to hide her pain. She always did.
But in the dim firelight, I could see the shadow that clung to her, the way the weariness had seeped into her bones. Her skin was paler, too, the lines in her face deeper. I knew it wasn’t just fatigue. It was something more.
RL had been with us a few nights now, a presence as calm and fierce as the wolves he spoke of, always watching, always listening.
“There’s a trick to it,” he said, “when you catch something small.” His hands moved gracefully, showing me how to hold the dagger steady and strike with intention, so it would be quick and clean. “If we hunt, we do it with respect. Every creature has its role.”
He motioned for me to stay silent and led me a short distance from the campfire, our breaths white puffs in the cold. And there, in the silence, we spotted it—a small rabbit, nibbling on something by a frozen branch.
My heart raced as I crouched down, my fingers clutching the small dagger. I took a breath, remembering RL’s instructions, and struck It was over quickly; the warmth faded from the creature in my hands.
“Tonight, you eat what you earned,” he said, carrying the rabbit back to camp and showing me how to clean and prepare it.
By the fire, chewing on the meat I’d hunted, I tried not to focus on the pains in my stomach, and on the feeling of knowing I have the strength to fend for us.
Beside me, Elisi ate slowly, her eyes distant and weary. Yet, when she reached for my hand, her grip was steady. In the firelight, she looked at me, her gaze searching.
I could feel it, in that strange, mysterious way that had come to me lately, as if a fog had lifted and left only clear signs behind. I couldn’t name it, but I knew something dark was eating away at her, and that soon, she’d need more than herbs and mushrooms to keep her walking.
When I closed my eyes that night, I felt a strange presence with me. I wasn’t sure if it was some spirit. But there was a connection there, something pulling me deeper, something that stretched between me and the earth, a connection to the land and to those who had walked this path before.
The journey pressed on, and with each step, the weight of our circumstances seemed to grow heavier.
[Inventory: Carrying Capacity (Level 1)]
* Max Slots: 6
* Load Impact on Movement: High
* Critical Item Types: Food, Water, Herb bundle, flint shard, simple blade, owl feather
* Bundle Efficiency: Basic
[New Skill Unlocked: Fire-Starting (Level 1)]
Basic knowledge of creating and maintaining a fire using natural materials.
* Success Rate: 45% (improves with practice and guidance from RL)
* Fire Types: Basic (small cooking and warmth fires)
* Materials Usable: Dry kindling, twigs, softwood branches
* Fire Duration: Short
[Cultural Preservation]
* [Tsalagi word learned: A-ni-wa-ya (ᎠᏂᏩᏯ) - Wolves]
* You’ve preserved a piece of your heritage
[Hidden Debuff: ???]
* Effects unknown
* Duration unknown