As dusk approached, the people of the Anda tribe began to return from their work.

  Anda followed a centralized system for resource collection.

  All game, harvested goods, and traded items were first handed to the temple for accounting.

  Only after being divided into individual portions were they delivered to each household by the guards.

  The process was slow, even cumbersome—but it was how the tribe had maintained order and trust for generations.

  Arl, however, was not listed among the working population.

  She received no daily rations.

  Everything she needed, she had to secure herself.

  During her earliest days of recovery, she had neither the strength nor the will to manage such matters.

  To preserve fairness, the Godmother had quietly given Arl a large portion of her own share, allowing her to focus solely on surviving—on pulling herself back together.

  That period had been… difficult to accept.

  She did not understand why it had happened to her.

  She found the world unbearable.

  At times, she even felt betrayed by the very gods people claimed to trust.

  Throughout all of it, the Godmother never left her side.

  There had been moments when Arl wanted to destroy herself—

  moments when she thought becoming the kind of person she despised might be easier than continuing as she was.

  Each time, the old woman reached out again.

  Patient. Unwavering.

  It was because of that persistence that a seed was planted in Arl’s heart—

  the faint possibility that trusting others might still be possible.

  But the seed had not yet sprouted.

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  Not then.

  So on the day her mind finally cleared, the first words Arl spoke were:

  “…Thank you, Grandma.”

  Her voice was soft. Unsteady. But she did not look away.

  “I want to take care of myself now.”

  She paused, as if confirming that this was not an impulse.

  “I’ll live the way you taught me to.”

  “With a clear conscience… and by learning to care for myself first.”

  She looked up, meeting the gaze that had never left her.

  “So please—let me take my life back.”

  The temple was silent.

  Light filtered down from above, illuminating the white-haired woman wearing the feathers of the High Shaman.

  The Godmother smiled.

  Not a sacred smile.

  But the smile of an elder who had waited a long time for a child to wake.

  She took Arl’s hand and gave it a gentle pat.

  “All the children of this tribe are my children. And the gods’ children.”

  “And you… were never abandoned.”

  “You came here because of connection.”

  “And because the gods arranged it so.”

  Arl listened. Her lips twitched—not quite a smile.

  “Grandma…” she said quietly.

  “I think you might be wrong about that.”

  She did not raise her voice.

  “But if you hadn’t been there… I don’t think I would have survived.”

  “That wasn’t something anyone could touch. Or help with.”

  “At that time… I was truly alone.”

  Her gaze drifted.

  “I was pulled into something deep. Like a dream that wouldn’t end.”

  “I almost didn’t come back.”

  She inhaled slowly.

  “I kept asking myself—why me?”

  “All I wanted was someone safe. Someone who could understand me.”

  Her voice dropped.

  “And that desire was used against me.”

  “Completely.”

  She did not wipe away the tears.

  “I’m tired, Grandma.”

  “I just want to live in reality now.”

  “At least… for myself. One more time.”

  She paused, gathering strength.

  “So I don’t want to hear about gods or prophecies anymore.”

  “They’re… frightening to me.”

  Her voice fell to a whisper.

  “If you need my help, just ask.”

  “I can feel things like that… but right now, I hate that feeling.”

  “Let this be my way of repaying your kindness.”

  The Godmother did not argue.

  Light rested on them both as she nodded.

  “Alright,” she said gently.

  “But for now, take care of your own life first.”

  “If I don’t assign you rations, you’ll have nothing to eat.”

  Arl smiled faintly and nodded.

  “I’ll find work. Or help where I can.”

  “I need to stand on my own before I help you.”

  “You’ll manage,” the old woman said warmly.

  And so they smiled at one another.

  At the time, Arl thought—

  if life could just stay simple, that would be enough.

  and learning when not to listen, even when the world insists.