I remember sitting there, curled into a ball with my arms across my knees. Just watching each person run by was stimulating. I would say entertaining, but it’d only feel wrong. Even so, I don’t think I knew what being entertained meant; it was just something to look at.

People would come by and check on me of course. I remember one woman tugged on my arm for a few minutes, but I never budged. She didn’t seem old enough to have children of her own, and so she was probably one of the still level-headed ones spearheading the relief effort.

She was really pretty, but I remember her expression being painful to look at. I mean, of course it would’ve been. Everything was gone, everything. I have no clue which village in Sidos it was, but I doubt it’s still there today. She eventually gave up though.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Hm? Yeah, it was Sidos. The mountains I came down from were definitely the Northern Chain Ridge.

I don’t know. Who knows how long I had been alive for until then. Maybe I’d been mindlessly trekking the mountains before that.

The next morning had seen an end to the fires. The fuel had ran out by then, both the houses and the grass plains. I still sort of sat there, the wind blowing ash through my hair as I watched people scavenging through what was left. Most were mourning, but a few had started to notice me. There were whispers at first, that eventually turned into some careful steps forward.

I mean, a child not of the village with rags and silver hair, staring at it as it burnt to the ground. I’d think it was some sort of ghost, wouldn’t you?

No. They didn’t take my presence too kindly at all.