Awaking from her terrible sleep she sits up right inside the bush, whacking away the twigs and branches until she was able to sit comfortably. Mītut Qātē would fix some loosened flowers on her wreath, adjusting it, before placing it again onto her head, being too big and leaning to one side of her head. Picking herself up and brushing away shrubbery that had accumulated on her, she stood up on her own two feet, looked around her surroundings, before taking a step forward; out of the bush and back into the world. Bright sunshine piercing the ash covered skies of clouds in thin pillars of splendor; a harsh contrast to the sombre she was feeling at that moment. Dragging her feet through the tough ground of ensnaring grass she makes her way to the dirt path. Deliberately taking each step forward with a great pause between each one. By the time the sun was beginning to set on her she had barely made any distance; not being far from where she had slept the night. Clambering to her feet when she fell, dragged herself when she no longer had the strength to stand, before rolling to the side of the path and back into the shrubbery to take shelter for the night. Following this wretched cycle of short travelling, desperate moving, before retreating into the bushes and leaves by the side of the path. On the 2nd day of this cycle she felt the strangling effects of dehydration upon the body and, in a desperate last act to live, spent all her remaining energy to throw herself into the nearest body of water; a pubble of troubled and muddy water. Desperate from the woes of thirst she forced herself to drink the water out of the puddle. As the water was lapped up into her mouth she felt every piece of dirt, mud, stone, and various other unsavory agents which sleep in dirty water. Despite it all the water was enough to quench her growing thirst; enough at least where it was not a pressing problem to her at that very moment.

  Having now staved off thirst she felt the remnants of her energy return to her. Being able to now stand on her own two feet again she slowly limped down the familiar path which was once a casual walk has now become a road of pain. Enduring for the whole day and well into the night she eventually is able to drag herself to a familiar place; a creek she and Adelfi use to frequent. Resting underneath the leaves of a nearby tree she rests her head upon the trunk of the tree, staring absentmindedly into the sky. Thankfully to rest after hours of arduous her body rested whilst her mind drifted off into thought, thoughts of delicious food, thoughts of a warm home, thoughts of Adelfi. She sniffled and cried a few tears at the thought of her; her one friend was gone and she was alone to suffer in this world again. Once again she was thrown into a state of existence where no one thought of her as nothing more than a blight on this world, a black sheep, a carrion of the plague. Despite these thoughts she easily drifted off into a restful sleep, one which was seldom experienced by her in the past but one which came naturally with the drift of the winds through the rustling leaves and bushes near the creek, providing an ambient sound to an otherwise deftly silent world.

  Having slept for nearly a full day Mītut Qātē awoke to the sun setting before her. Rubbing her eyes of the fatigue they had to endure these past few days she rose from the base of the tree invigorated for another day of blatant survival. Unable to venture back into her familiar homelands, for she feared what would happen to her at the hands of them, she pressed on forward onto the path; until the path she walked under no longer was part of the vast memories she once shared with Adeli. Venturing into unknown lands she steadies herself for whatever may come. Yet, nothing did come except for more pathing, shrubbery, and the occasional flowers. Despite leaving what she had known to be the extent of the world she knew she kept on discovering that much of the world she had not known was quite alike to what she knew. The same dirt path, the same trees, the same flowers. Mītut Qātē feared, for a moment, that this was all this world had to offer her. An endless repetition of the same familiar surroundings, her village, her family, and the pains that are associated with them. In one singular moment she was struck with an uncomfortable and dreadful thought. A moment where all the previous grievances matter naught in the face of an overwhelming truth of the reality which she resided in; there was nothing more in this world but the small bits of land around her home and village. Yet that allusion would be shattered at the face of what she saw before her.

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

  Onto the side of the road she saw a toppled over cart, like many she had seen before, but it was the material that it was made of that intrigued and comforted her of a greater and bigger world outside of the one she knew. Carved into the lacquered and sturdy dark wood of the cart were several unknown symbols and scratchings to her. Some of which she felt she had seen before or had seen similar ones but some of them were completely unknown to her; akin to the old writings she had briefly seen in the mine where poor Tragoedia lived and died in. Regardless she felt a sense of existential relief at this new discovery; the world that she knew was only but another part of a wider different world. Steadfast in her musing and prodding of this piece of the world she, with an almost manic style, began to analyze and inspect every piece of this strange cart, noting how dark the wood was compared to the trees she knew that grew in her lands, seeing how strange its overall construct was, and all manners of detail which could be interpolated from the cart from the limited knowledge she knew. Yet all the pleasantries will go away at the sight of what she saw near the cart; a scene quite familiar to her.

  Before the cart just a few paces behind it laid the body of an old man, clothes stolen and left bare in the open. Having been supposedly robbed by road bandits and left to die in the open weather of the increasingly violent howling winds. She knew such sights were a common occurrence due to the common sightings and warnings of recent road bandit attacks but she had never seen what became of the victims of such attacks; but now did. She had never seen the man nor knew of him yet she could only feel a sense of sorry for the poor man. Not knowing what actually happened to him but she knew what became of him. She wanted to do something for the man, to show that even in the end someone cared for him but her fatigue and hunger overcame her so she put it off into the back of her mind “I have to do something for him at the very least later.”

  She examined the toppled over cart and saw that most of the contents had been pillaged but there were a few pieces or wrapped items that were not taken. Taking these few un-pilfered items with her she unwrapped their cloth confines to see they were bits of molded cheese, stale bread, bruised and deformed fruits and vegetables, and other such things she had not recognized. She rejoiced, amongst the few moments in her life, at the sight of both familiar and foreign. She truly felt as if there was a wider world, and it was by these few morsels of food and produce that strengthened her resolve; Mītut Qātē felt, at that moment for the first time of her life, freed. Rejoicing in the poor quality of the food she lapped it all up just as quickly as she had found it, her stomach satisfied, and life feeling a bit brighter she rested upon the toppled cart, keeping the retrospect of the poor man whose cart was supposed to belong to him.

  Before she was able to rest any further she felt a presence towering over here and the cart. Raising her head to see over she saw the figure of a man, dressed in clothing which made him appear to be a man of good standing; a virtuous and righteous man of any village. Calling out to her the man, in a booming and clear voice spoke out “Are you alright child?” Having never seen this man Mītut Qātē felt afraid of him and what he was capable of. Scrambling her arms to crawl away from him she fell down from the cart onto the cold dirt below. Reeling from the pain she leaned her back against the cart to rest. The man, approaching slowly once again, in that same booming voice, asked her “Are you alright child?” before offering a hand to her. Unsure of what this gesture meant, Mītut Qātē recluse herself further from him; still wary of anyone.

  The man, seeing his efforts fail, instead reached into a small sack which hung from his waist and pulled some reddish strange berries out of it and offered a small handful to her with a great smile on his face. Seeing this Mītut Qātē slowly backed off from the cart before reaching into the man’s palm and took a small handful of berries out of it. Seeing the freshness of the berries Mītut Qātē shoved the berries into her mouth, wallowing in the sweetness of them. Closing her eyes in order to savor the sweet berries she swallows them; encapsulating every bit of their flavor, one which she had never had before. Opening her eyes she turned to the man to thank him for the gift but before she was able to get any words out, she felt her senses become dazed and before she knew it she fell over onto her side, her eyes blurring with the last sight that she saw was of the man looking shocked and hurrying to her.`