I regretted it almost the second my narrow sailing boat undocked from the wooden quay. The grand stone castle of Elderwyn faded into the distance as my ship sailed downstream back towards the ocean from which I had left six days prior. Every part of my body was urging me to turn around, to go back to the castle and fix my mistake. But I didn’t. That would have been too easy after all. Cobbled streets through which I had been meandering only a few hours ago lay in an orderly expanse behind me, the faint glow of the city still guiding my path forward. Elderwyn, despite being the capital city of Aeloria, was not a place I had ever visited before today, and it wouldn’t be somewhere I would ever visit again by choice, not after this. My cramped sailboat continued down the river Tirith, the harsh and cold northerly winds pushing me forward and back towards my father and our crew. At least I would be able to face him again now, without the constant arguments, the scrutiny that had followed my life for the past few months.

The forests that lay to my left hours later were dark and foreboding despite seeming so welcoming in the warmth of the afternoon sun that it had been bathed in a few hours prior. Now even the glow of the full moon couldn’t reach the woodland floor. I had visited the humble thicket village a few times as a child, then again as a teen once or twice. Some of the centaurs had become personal friends of mine as my father continued his trading at their small harbour. I continued sailing past their woodland town of Aldrath, my slightly shaky hands not allowing me even a second to think about changing my mind and turning back. I would greet my friends another time, I would have to for my own sanity. The narrow rickety craft swayed under my feet, only making me more uneasy and agitated. I had never gotten sea sickness before although it seemed like a real possibility now, it would be so much easier to just turn around and go back to land, but my decision was final now, in a way it had been since this started. But That didn’t make doing it any easier. Quite the contrary in practice.

The cracked skin that covered my fingers gripped the clammy wheel, manoeuvring the small vessel past the other boats on the waterway that seemed uncharacteristically hectic for this time of night. Wood splintered and jabbed into my palms as I continued to grip the steering equipment harder, drawing a meager amount of bloody dots that I could barely feel. I twisted the helm slightly, twisting my cramped ship down the curves in the river. I would be passing Aldrath by dawn in two days, then it would only be another four days or so before I was welcomed back onboard by my father.

The full moon cast a glow over the water, illuminating the fading silhouette of Elderwyn as I continued sailing south. It was a beautiful city, towered over by the stonework castle in the foothills of the Dreadspire mountain range that lay to the north of the city. Under different circumstances I would have enjoyed exploring the region. But that was under different circumstances.

A door is always harder to close once you know something magical is waiting for you on the other side.

“Kaiya!”

My fathers voice rang out in my ears and brought me out of my dream.

“Can someone wake my daughter up please”

I could faintly hear my father shouting to the crew, it was a running joke by now that I was grouchy when I woke up, therefore nobody ever wanted to be the unlucky one to have to pull me from my slumber. That day was almost four years ago now and I hadn’t spent a single night dreaming of anything but that memory since. At least it had replaced my former nightmare. I sat up slowly with a yawn, the memory fading from the forefront of my mind as it did every morning once I awoke. I hadn’t been back up the river Tirith since then, business hadn’t taken us there, but I wasn’t complaining, I didn’t need another reason to get any closer to the city of Elderwyn.

The slippery salt sprayed deck of the spacious ship swayed beneath me, not that I paid it much mind, I had grown up on this boat, sailing these waves on this ocean, I was used to the rocking by the time I was ten. the floors of the cabin creaked underfoot as I stepped out.

“Kaiya, lower the mainsail!”

The command came from my father, lofted across the main deck as I finished slipping on my boots. This ship had been in my father’s family for centuries, letting every member of my family learn each nook and cranny, fix every kink and notch the boat had. I slipped the leather boots over my somehow already damp socks, hobbling over to carry out my father’s orders as I had been doing for all twenty-four years of my life. And perhaps this wasn’t where I wanted to be the rest of my life. but it was safe and secure and that was enough for me.

The wind whipped me in the face, a few loose hairs freeing themselves from my bun and attacking my sky blue eyes with their needle ends. I made a mental note to fix my Coppery hair into a better style later in the day. My calloused hands pulled at the slightly worn ropes on the deck, winding it up into a tight coil and stowing it away in a far corner among a few barrels which looked spacious enough to support one singular extra rope.

“Hey Kaiya we’re preparing to dock in a few minutes”

One of the youngest crew members, Alec, called to me from a few metres away, poking his head around the wooden wall. After giving a swift nod and grabbing the rope once again, I headed to the bow in time to see the trading city of Oakenholt coming into view from the horizon. Oakenholt was the closest thing I had to a home town, bringing forth fond memories of running between various market stalls with other young children as our parents bought and sold various goods. I had almost perfectly memorised the street layouts by the time I became a teenager, spending late nights with new acquaintances and making my entire crew wait in the port until I returned, usually in the early hours of the morning. I hadn’t done that since I was nineteen though, that was how this whole thing started and I wasn’t going to let it happen twice; my father would never let me out of his sight again.

The bustling harbour came into view quite quickly as the boat sailed into our designated docking. I could smell the familiar melting pot of culinary traders in their marketplace as I clutched my purse of gold coins. Trading at any port of this size was always exciting for me, allowing me tastes of other kingdoms that I had never even visited. As much as I loved my life on the ship, food there was often bland and after a few months at sea started to become stale or rotten. Fish had been my main meal now for a few days or more so I was ecstatic to finally be able to buy some more good food. By the time our ship had been secured and docked in Oakenholt’s harbor, I along with many of the other crew members was already stepping off the boat, exploring today’s market stalls with our shimmering golden coins in hand, the wind now weaker than out at sea creating only a gentle cooling breeze over my face.

The marketplace, like it was every few months when our ship docked here, was bustling with hungry customers and tourists from foreign nations. I could see some Orcs from Stronereach up in the north buying mining tools from the Hobbits of Vesperfell. Occasionally the sweet song of mermaids could be heard while cutting between stalls. Oakenholt was the main harbour in Aeloria and therefore attracted many different kinds to trade and barter together. My teeth sank down onto an iced pastry, a few of the crumbs falling under foot. The seller, a gnome who I had been buying from for over a decade, readily accepted my gold for the heavenly dessert.

We hadn’t actually been to a port for almost two months, longer than what was usual for our ship, so any pastries that we had onboard had long since been eaten. Sugaryness exploded over my taste buds, my eyes closing slightly to fully experience the confectionery. It was probably only around five in the morning by now but it seemed like the entire town was awake; it was one of the many things I loved so much about Oakenholt.

My leather boots brushed over the cobbled pathing, the rectangular stones concealing barely standing plants and a layer of creeping ivy that seemed to stretch for miles down the main road. Wisteria snaked in vines up the front face of the town hall which sat in front of me.

A thicket of woodland which I could just see behind the town, concealed the long dirt road leading to Elderwyn from sight. A few leaves were falling from the trees, it was early Conould now, much of the warm Thollic weather already in the past. Fairsun, despite being my favourite season because of the cool weather, always meant less stops at port, longer stretches out at sea with nothing but each other and our ship for survival. I wandered through the winding streets until I made it slightly outside the town, my worn leather boots on the grassy hill by my side. A small fishing boat was leaving the port below me, its sail catching the wind and taking it further out to sea. If it continued west it would make it to Oxcrest, the forested island of Elves around fifty miles overseas. I plucked a cornflower from the soil next to me, stowing it safely into my satchel for pressing later. The walls of my cabin on the lower deck were strewn with various cork boards covered in a selection of wildflowers I collected throughout my travels. Although my father would never allow it, my dream had always been to become a florist and sell my exotic and rare flowers to people across the world.

But my father would be so disappointed. So I was still sailing, still tying ropes and letting down sails. I looked down the hill to the town, thatched straw roofs covering my sight. Chimney smoke invaded my nose, mixing with the smells of sea air and early fairsun pollen. Long strands of my rust coloured hair straddled my shoulders and fell down my back, the tips resting softly against the mossy grass of the wildflower field.

The sound of birds chirping from the trees behind me relaxed me as I lay my head onto the grassy terrain. It was the most peace I had felt for months at sea; wondering when the next storm would be, if our ship would be the next in a string of pirate attacks or if we would end up as the latest shipwreck.

By the time I made it back into the main town, the entire crew was already back onto our ship, the sail lowered and my father at the helm ready to steer us out of the hustling harbour.

I didn’t hear the shouts until it was too late.

Until they were already starting to corner the exits to the boat.

I turned my head to the noise in time to see almost a dozen palace guards were running in synchronicity towards our ship. Each one of the battalion of mostly orc guards was clad in the same blue cotton top and adorned with tall hats bearing the symbol for the royal guard. I could do nothing but watch as the group stormed my ship, carelessly tossing boxes and barrels around the deck and overboard in their search. I didn't even know what or who they were looking for on the vessel. My feet were frozen to the ground, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and confusion.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes later when the entire crew that had become my family were escorted off the vessel in chains, shackles tied around their wrists and ankles.

Darkness started to creep into my periphery before I forced myself to take in a shaky breath. This was all a dream. This was all a messed up, disturbing, nightmarish dream. I pinched my arm. My breathing didn’t slow down. Maybe this wasn’t a dream. The spectacle of my father and crew getting arrested had clearly drawn a crowd as now I was pressed shoulder to elbow with a centaur who seemed to have taken up temporary residence in the space directly beside me. A hobbit was on my right, his head pressed into my side. I looked around at the once moving and bustling market area. No one seemed to be moving, eyes all transfixed on the shackles that were now binding the wrists of all those I held dear. The second the doors of the carriage shut the whispers started; Piracy they said.

My breathing was ragged with panic and bewilderment, everything I had ever known had been taken out of my life in chains and with no prospect of when or even if they would return.

My father’s eyes locked with mine, only for a second but it was enough to make me want to scream and cry and fight and shout and question my entire life all at once. He seemed defeated; as if he just wanted to promise me that everything would be ok but he knew he couldn’t. Because he knew it might not be true. My heart shattered into a million shards of pain. My knuckles were white, spots of blood appearing on my palms as my fingernails dug deeper. I needed to hold on to reality. Was I going to be jailed as well? This must all be some horrible misunderstanding. We’re all good, law-abiding citizens. right?

I couldn't save him. I wasn’t strong enough. If I was just back here faster, maybe I would have seen them, could have gotten the crew of the ship to safety. If I was just a minute faster, if I hadn't gone off to do my stupid hobby. They would still be on the boat, not sitting in a jail cell. It was all my fault. All of this was my fault. I would just have to fix it.

Whatever it took.

Apparently I managed to stumble my way to a nearby inn about an hour after the entire ordeal. I wanted to follow the guards who stole my family, but I wasn’t foolish. I knew that it would only result in all of us in a cell together with no hopes of ever seeing the light of an Aelorian sun again.

My back ached with the pain of an unknown future, the rough mattress cover etching itchy lines over my body as I lay there perfectly still and cold. I silently mourned the hope of a normal future, staring aimlessly at a woven silk web in the top corner of the room, the lifeless body of a spider hanging from a thread over the shadowed wooden dresser. The silence did nothing to calm me. Strands of my hair coated both the pillow and my face the next morning as I awoke from my slumber. My eyes were red and bloodshot from crying myself into a dreamless sleep. It was the first time I had dreamt of anything new in four years; since the first time I had lost everything. Now it was happening all over again, and again I was helpless to stop everything being snatched away from me.

It wasn’t until I stepped out of the cramped inn and onto the drizzle covered, cobbled road outside that I realised I had no idea where I was going.

I stuffed my calloused hands quickly back into the thin material of my worn overcoat, sniffling and blinking back another sobbing fit. I wasn’t even sure if there were any more tears I could cry but I still didn’t want to risk it. My feet started moving of their own accord down the long road, instinctively towards the harbour despite reasoning with myself that our ship was probably already seized and taken away. Nevertheless I found myself trudging towards the smell of salty ocean breeze and the once again busy market. I hadn’t yet looked in a mirror, not that I wanted to. I could only imagine how my eyes would be red and puffy, my hair a tangled mop down my back and the clothes I had been wearing since yesterday morning. I meandered through the market area, barely even glancing my head up to see the vendors who seemed so eager to sell their wares to me. Yesterday I had been dying to buy from them, today I was dying inside.

Eventually I managed to trudge my way through the hazy sea of vendors and customers and made it to the docks. Port four sat empty. As expected. I sighed, resisting the longing of the ground as I continued walking up the hill I had walked down so blissfully unaware yesterday. The grass was frigid against my mostly bare legs, the blue shorts I had left the boat in yesterday now seeming short and not almost warming enough.

Around me there were patches of clover blooms, their small pinkish flowers occasionally trampled and misshapen underfoot. A crackle of thunder pierced my ears, my hair starting to stick to my back and fall flat on my head. It was the chilled type of rain that characterised the coming of the Dimday months, letting free the warm Thollic drizzle. Rain had never bothered me before, when I was with my father and the crew. But now I was alone.
That was my destiny, to be forever completely and utterly alone.

I collapsed to the grassy floor of the meadow, my head in my hands, face scrunched and tarnished with the salty liquid. The crowds had called them pirates. I knew the sentencing for that. Life imprisonment if you were lucky; death if not.

My father, my friends Alec and Hilda, the old elvish chef Orilan who had worked for my family since a late teen, Cordelia my mentor and mother figure.

I was never going to see them again. My vision blurred with the stinging of rain soaked tears, the etched bloody imprints on my hands smearing over my cheeks as I wiped my salty pain. Four years ago I thought I was at my lowest, right now then feels like I was on top of the world.

The grass underneath me was damp with early morning dew, dotted with a few auburn leaves from fairsun’'s arrival. The wind whipped at my face, strands of my rust coloured hair floating and flapping with the gale. This meadow had been my favourite piece of Oakenholt since I was an infant, the place I could go to just get away from my thoughts. It was exactly what I needed right now. The sky turned from its apricot hue of dawn to a deep storm grey as more heavy clouds rolled over the horizon over the city. The almost unnoticeable glow of fireflies flitted around the meadow, casting a warm light over the shadowed woodland thicket.

Down the hill I could see the incoming ships, port four still empty except for the few barrels that still bobbed barely above the water’s surface from the search yesterday. More tears rolled down my cheeks as the rain fell around me. It was hopeless. Everyone I had ever loved was going to either die or never see the outside world again and there was nothing I could do to save them. The branches whistled above me, releasing a few maroon leaves across the grassy hill of the meadow,

Last time I was here was late Ortosap, the trees still barren and the colour of roasted coffee beans. Only yesterday my life had been the perfect story, now it was as if it had been dropped into an ocean of mud. My chest stuttered as my tears ceased. Everything I was wearing was drenched by the shower, All of my other clothes were on the now impounded ship. My shorts slid back over the floor, probably staining them with a verdant grass colour. I felt my hair resting against the bark of a nearby tree. It felt frigid and damp from the rain but not altogether unpleasant to lean against, the bark felt smooth as I ran my hand over it. I lay back as the overhead rain slowed to a sluggish drizzle, clutching my almost empty coin pouch by my side. I now had barely enough to buy the next few days worth of meals, let alone any more stays at the inn. I fished out a quill and ink pot from my leather satchel and ripped a scrap of empty parchment from my journal, luckily a mostly empty book since I had filled my old one only a week ago. Laying the parchment on my lap dipped the quill into the ink, then brought it to the paper. My hand hovered a centimetre from hitting the page.

I needed a plan, someway to survive and free my father and crew. But I was alone and desperate.

That was never a good combination for survival.

I still hadn't written much an hour later, the most planning I had was that I needed to go east, to Elderwyn. If I left in the next week or so I would make it with plenty of time for the Dimday Solstice.

All I could hope for then was that I would be selected. The only hope I had at saving my family now… The Dreadspire Gauntlet.

It was a tournament of 100 willing participants who were all housed in the Elderwyn palace for a few months while they competed. Mostly it was different competitions, boat racing, archery, fencing. Each time the ten lowest scoring participants were removed from the games.

Then came the finale. The final 10 competitors would be paraded up through the Dreadspire mountain range and to the lair of Thalvior, the dragon.

Whoever delivered the final blow to the dragon won the games. The prize, whatever you wanted from the Roxidran herself, the magical being who could grant wishes. It had been 24 years since the games began, and Thalvior was still alive if that gave any indication of my odds of survival.

That wasn’t even the biggest issue for me, that would be staying in the castle. Not because I would rather stay somewhere else, I couldn’t afford to sleep anywhere other than the streets right now. It was who was at the castle. The one person I had spent years of my life running from. It would have been his birthday a month ago, give or take a few days. I could lie to myself and pretend I didn’t think of him every celebration, every birthday, each moon cycle, every Dragon day and Dimday solstice, I could tell myself that I didn’t think of that man every second of my waking hours and each night my mind forced me to replay that nightmare. Lying had never been my strong suit. The worst part was that I didn't even know why.

I blinked back more tears; the salty liquid had been streaming down my face for enough hours in the last few days and I didn't need any more emotions right now. I looked up to the almost entirely cloudless sky as I continued to blink back my tears. It was midday by now, the sun ravaging the landscape as I stood up from the shade of the treeline.

The sky was cloudless and still somehow less blue than I felt. I slung my satchel over my left shoulder, feeling the weight of my journal digging in slightly to my overcoat and flesh. The bag, almost mostly void of money and other personal items, except for my journal felt heavier than it ever had before and I realised just how unprepared I was for the journey. Although last time I had been to Elderwyn, just over four years ago by now, the journey had only been six days, that was in my sailboat and with ample supplies including a wealth of navigation equipment and a large sum of gold coins.

I laughed at my situation, impoverished, completely alone and with little more than a faint outline of how to fix everything wrong with my life.

My feet dragged along the dirt track back to Oakenholt where I could do nothing but hope that I wasn’t going to be arrested on the spot for a false crime. Wings of various small dragons and various fairies and harpies flitted over my head as I darted through unkempt alleyways and sideroads as a precaution, Elderwyn had been a six day journey by boat, sailing both day and night. Now I couldn’t even afford a carriage or horse to take me. The journey would probably take a few weeks on foot but with barely enough money for food for that long I doubted I would make it that far. My stomach grumbled with discontent.

I stared into a probably very dirty puddle mostly obscured by the shadows of the tall stone town buildings. God I looked awful. My hair, once smooth and loosely curled from the salty sea air, was pinned in a raggedy messy bun hanging barely together by my shoulders. My clothes were splattered with dirt and stained with grass from my impromptu stay in the meadow earlier. My face looked puffy and my eyes a crimson bloodshot colour from my days worth of incessant tears.

I looked like a completely different girl to the one who had been the daughter of a captain days ago.

I let out a breath, my eyes landing on a modest shopfront down one of the back alleys I was wandering through. The front of the shop was mostly soot covered glass but from the small overhanging sign I gathered that it was a bakery. Loaves of fluffy and freshly baked bread sat on display in the window and I once again felt my stomach rumble. It hadn’t yet been 24 hours since my father and crew were taken and yet I was already failing at being self sufficient.

The allure of crisp bread drew me closer to the shop entrance, even knowing that a single slice would half my budget to make it to Elderwyn. I peered inside through the glass, watching the few customers handing over their money for their own slice of perfection. The thatched roof above me sagging slightly under the weight of the day’s earlier showers.

My stomach rumbled again as I turned away from the quaint bakery.

“Later ok?”

I whispered to myself, knowing full well I might not eat anything, let alone the delicious freshly prepared goods of a local bakery, for a while.

I trudged on despite the obvious and loud protests of my stomach to turn around. The town was quieter than usual, people inside rather than on the streets. It was strange, but not completely out of the ordinary, I wasn’t fully caught up with land traditions and customs yet having spent most of my life barely knowing what day of the week it was.

I knew it was the 12th of Conould right now, almost half way through the first month of the colder weather of Fairsun. That meant I had just over three months until the Solstice of Dimday, the deadline for name submissions for the Dredspire Gauntlet.

It wasn’t like I was unaware that this plan was completely ludacris and entirely based on me successfully even making it into the gauntlet in the first place. I was just too desperate to care right now.

Realistically, I was homeless, had no money, didn't have a family, was potentially wanted by the royal guard for piracy and was about to head into a capital city to either fix everything or die trying. I had nothing going for me, and that was the most dangerous part, I would do anything to save my family, because I had nothing to lose.

The muscles in my legs ached. My left ankle had been sprained over a treeroot a mile or so back. I had barely made it TO Waldsteien Forest but I was already tired and injured.

It must have been about five in the evening and after only eating the apple for lunch and a bag of almost entirely non mouldy beans I fished out from lower in my bag, my stomach was still upset with my eating habits for the day. Sure food on the ship hadn’t been amazing, but Orilan had been doing his best with whatever ingredients wouldn’t go bad within a few days. At least back then the meals were hot and regular, always washed down with a healthy side of alcohol, not that my father let me have much or any at all very often.

Another carriage passed on my right, the wooden wheels clattering over the stones as the rider passed. It was a Hobbit, his scrawny chestnut hair cropped short and fluffy on his head. He seemed to be adorned with a few jewels and an expensive pocket watch sticking out of his breast pocket. He appeared to be some sort of royalty or nobility, presumably from Vesperfell or somewhere up north based on the fact he was a hobbit. Hobbitfolk and other species much smaller than humans generally lived in the coastal town of Vesperfell if they lived south of the Dreadspire mountain range. North of the mountains was outside the borders of Aeloria, into the kingdom of Ocros which was mainly inhabited by Catfolk and other animal hybrids.

The carriage rattled past me, the hobbit man not even acknowledging my existence as he continued on his way, probably to Elderwyn just like me. The carriage behind him was void of passengers, filled entirely with luggage. In some ways it reminded me of the ship, the life I used to have. Constantly busy and cluttered with the equipment and everything needed for almost fifty people to live comfortably on for at least a few months.

In only a few days, I had lost almost all of my possessions and family. Now everything I owned was either on my back, in my single almost empty bag, or on the boat in the harbour of the royal guard. For all I knew all of my journals and clothes could already be destroyed.

My ankle continued throbbing as I stepped further away from Oakenholt and towards Elderwyn. The journey was still at least forty miles and my footwear wasn’t designed for long periods of walking.

I counted the clouds overhead, noting the slowly setting sun and my still empty stomach. Oakenholt was far behind me through the dense thicket of trees that stretched out in all directions to form the Forest of Waldsteien. The trees were mostly still covered in their leaves, the few evergreen ones I passed making it appear to still be Thollic despite the quick change in seasons that seemed to be happening as the once hot weather seemed to be getting steadily colder. I had never been very good with either hot or cold weather, my father generally kept us sailing with the neutral climates so seasons were never a big thing on the ship. I could wear shorts for almost half a year before we inevitably had to trade somewhere cold.

I gazed upwards to the trees above me, admiring the nature I so rarely saw throughout my childhood and life in general. As much as I loved living on the sea, it didn’t leave much room for plant life. What with most of the liquid being either salt water or alcohol. Out of our entire crew I was the one who consumed the most fresh water, probably because they couldn’t raise a child purely on fish and various forms of booze. But perhaps that was what drew me to floristry. Whenever we did stop at a harbour for more than a day or so to trade; and I actually made friends, they would always tell me how they would have loved to live on a boat and how much I must love it. I was always the one wishing I could just be on land for more than a few days at a time. Growing up the most plantlife I got was scraping off seaweed when it attached itself to the boat.

I felt the souls of my leather boots dragging along the path. It wouldn’t be much longer now until sunset. I could only hope I wouldn’t be in the middle of the woods at night. As much as I was amazing at sailing, I was awful at any form of combat and this forest wasn’t exactly the friendliest place to be.

Although I had only heard of a few attacks in the last few years I had been visiting Oakenholt, I didn’t want to have to risk myself being one of them. If everything went to plan I should be able to make it through the entirety of the woods by dusk tomorrow without having to be there overnight.

I didn’t have a sleeping pack on me and had no money to buy one so the ground would have to be my bed for the night.

Another hour or two later it was probably around eight in the evening and I had finally made it to the turning into Waldsteien forest. The road continued more east now and although both would eventually make it to the bridge I needed to cross over, the road took a very scenic route that I probably wouldn’t survive on given my lack of food, water and basically all things necessary for survival. Basically, cutting through the worn dirt track of the forest was my best bet for making it to Elderwyn alive.

I contemplated just lying on the side of the road and falling asleep there. My throat was scratchy and dry, my stomach crippled with hunger. If I didn’t have a mission I would have turned back.

Despite being closer to empty than full, my satchel still weighed down on my shoulders and I wanted more than anything to just take it off and abandon it here. I could hear a brood of Carew birds above me somewhere, doing their usual nighttime squawking. A few had come on our voyages with us a year or so back, it made trying to sleep a real pain but they were always catching us small fish so it was a fair trade really.

A few stars were dotting the sky now, the outline of Virion faintly visible in the sky. As a child that was where my father had said my mother was, up on our neighbouring planet, just out of reach. By the time I was a teen I realised that was just his way of protecting me from a mother who left us. I haven’t seen her since I was two months old, at least that's what everyone I ask says, I don’t remember anything about her, not even a name unless others tell me.

The sound of my satchel hitting the dirt brings me back from my thoughts. Apparently this was where I had subconsciously decided to rest for the night then.

I was probably a third of a mile into the deeper thickets of forest, far enough away from the road not to be run over or spotted by any guards, but close enough to still hear the traffic if I listened closely enough. I backed myself up against a tree, feeling the rough bark against my head and back. It had only been a full moon a night or two ago so there was still enough light to see basic outlines of my surroundings.

My feet throbbed from inside my shoes. I had been solidly walking with minimal sustenance for hours today and I was in desperate need of anything that could remotely quench my thirst or hunger. I sighed, knowing that right now, the best method of escaping my all encompassing lack of nourishment was sleep. My tired and dirt covered fingers gripped the strap of my bag, pulling it onto my lap as a makeshift pillow. My stomach growled once again. This wasn’t going to be a fun night.