I never wore the boots.

It wasn’t as if I disliked them; that wasn’t the case at all. Mainly I was more afraid of damaging them, because such a gift was the first thing I had ever received from someone in ages. They were made out of an odd leather texture, cracking and splitting up at the edges, like the cracked seams of an old couch cushion. I traced my fingers around its warped, bent surface, crusted with mud and dirt. The thin rubber soles were rubbed down, almost caved in, while the laces were adorned with hardened, lumpy knots with the threading all tore up. I placed a soft bundle of grass beneath them and hid them underneath the floorboards of the shed to protect them from dust and mice.

* * * * * * *

As the concern for the dwindling supplies fell on the minds of many, I harvested as much as I could in the meantime in the cornfields in attempts to help with the food shortage; so much so that when George rarely came, he could not withhold the look of shock on his face as he brought back what the great deal that I had gathered to his people. I hoped that the extra food would bring some sort of help. By the end of each week my hands bled and sting, but the weight of the full baskets only motivated me to push myself a bit harder.

I started working more at night in the cornfields to get as many baskets filled as possible, although my eyes were stinging and my back was achingly sore once the warm morning light came. I then decided to enter the village every other day, in hopes to catch a glimpse of the boys, who begrudgingly labored and swore in the heat. In the late evenings, I pulled the boots out from their hiding place and hugged them tighter to me. When I held them up to my nose and slowly inhaled their scent; they smelled of something more than earth and grass and leather. They smelled of life.

* * * * * * * * *

I began to space my trips to the village a little bit more in order to give myself plenty of time to work in the cornfields. Although my back was sore and I found my muscles stiff and tight, I managed to make do with the walking stick I had. And despite how exhausted my body was, sleep could not come to me at night. So I would remain awake for hours, concocting lies in my head to tell the boys where I was or had been when they did finally manage to see me.

We all remained side by side during the following week, usually in the early afternoons. The men were at odds. George and Fritz often snapped and bickered with each other, while Ki furiously began to whack his tool into the dirt, uprooting some large red potatoes and carrots. He then proceeded to brag about their size and how he grew them, before Fritz told him to shut up, that it was impossible for him to know that they were the exact ones he had planted. As the two began to engage in a screaming match. Covey gathered more seeds, dropping them in the dry earth. Those past few days it barely rained, and the sun mercilessly beat down upon us, only worsening their moods.

I soon discovered that George was literate; he could understand and spell out a few words. He had written down the name of each person who had recently fled from Navu and arrived at this place; including their age and other details, all in a small yellowed notepad that he had found in an abandoned camp.

Unable to hold back my curiosity, I often went through it when he wasn't looking, flipping through each wrinkled page. I had never been so amazed at the organizational skills the man possessed due to how neatly and accurately everything was dated. He had used berry juice and the edge of a wilted chicken feather to scrawl down these crooked letters, along with the names adults and children combined who had arrived; based on their ages and how many members were present in each family. While he had misspelled several words, I noticed how well he did with the numbers. I contemplated often offering him a few writing lessons, but often hesitated, not wanting him to begin or suspect something about me.

But I was a fool. And I was a fool who believe who could fool others for only so long before my deeds were brought to the surface. The veil I had been so careful to construct and guard myself had been ripped off like a bandage, revealing an infected, festering wound.

As we smeared warm clay on the new huts we were constructing one evening, the heat was unbearable, and most of the men had peeled off their muddy shirts. I was drenched in sweat; my clothing clung to my skin. As I lifted up a wooden plank on my shoulders with a grunt, Ki looked down at me and squinted at me in the sun. His long legs dangled from the side of the structure as he loudly chewed on a piece of straw.

"Aren't you hot?" he asked. "You must be burning up a storm under that cloak. You’ve got to learn how to get loose. Relax.”

Awkwardly, I tugged at the edge of the material on my pants and looked down.

Fritz, who was generously mixing more red clay and mud in a large puddle, gave me a hard glare. "If this is about the burns on your face, you have nothing to worry about. No one else is out here but us." He cocked his head to the side. "Matter of fact, I don't think I've ever seen you without it. I've never ever seen what you've looked like. You can't be that terrifying. I mean, I've witnessed worse disfigurement in the security ward. Don't you think it's about time we at least get to, you know, see you? We’re not that judgmental. It's been weeks; I've thought you've at least come along by now."

"Yeah," George said, neatly smearing a wad of red mud between two wooden bamboo structure. He was wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and walked towards me. "It shouldn't be a big deal." His blue eyes slightly narrowed. "I would like to see who I’m working with. Not unless you have something to hide from us, huh? Seems like you can't really trust anyone these days, I figure.”

"I...." I couldn't look him in the face. "I..."

Covey roughly threw his shovel down to the ground, making everyone look at him. "Hey, that's enough. If he doesn't want to show his face to us, why does it relate to our goals? Come on, we need to focus on more important things. Things that should be done as soon as possible.” Annoyed, he gestured to the structure with a mud coated hand. "Like this, for example. We need to start on another one in a few weeks."

George swore under his breath. "I'm taking a break, I'll be right back. I'm under the shade if anyone needs me." After glancing at me, he strode off towards the shade, loudly hacking something up in his throat and spitting in the grass. The white foam of his saliva glowed on the ground like a gem.

Ki jumped down from the wall, his bare feet half submerged in the deep mud. He struggled to stand as he tried to wallow through it like a pig. A puzzled expression fell on his face as he scratched his head. "What's up with him?"

Fritz bit his lower lip and folded his arms. "He's finally gone crazy; that's what. Just like the rest of us. I really miss shooting, too. I've gotten better with the guns, you know. I want to try them, but George over there is just wasting our time with these stupid projects. What makes him so high and mightly anyways? Who needs him? Having us all cooped up in here like we're caged animals. Haven't we been confined enough already? And there are more of our brothers and sisters out there who still need us. Staying here is worthless and won’t do anything. We should sneak out."

Covey’s face turned red. “Building these homes are not stupid—-“

”You keep saying that, but you won’t do it,” Ki replied. “I think you’re scared of what George might do to us if he finds out. You best not say these things around him.”

“I ain’t scared of anything,” Fritz fired back, making him immediately become silent. “Maybe it’s you. You don’t do much anyways except kiss his ass. It’s like you’re his pet.”

Covey shot him a stern look. "Stop it. Look, he’s just a bit stressed. Tired. Let a man breathe, alright? First the encounter with a dangerous spirit, then all of these expectations on him from those around him to do something about it. I mean, wouldn't you be in his predicament? There's a lot of people who are counting on him. You know when he's like this he snaps at us. Then he comes back later to apologize. He always does."

”Don’t tell me you’re buying into this spirit bullshit thing, too,” Fritz groaned. “You’re starting to sound exactly like him.”

“Is there a spirit?” Ki piped in.

“No!”

Covey folded his arms. “Complaining and standing out here won’t get the job done.”

"I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking,” Fritz mumbled. “I don't even know him anymore, to be honest."

Ki turned to me. "Do you think the guns will kill the spirit, Milo? If it's dead, we can finally leave the village and head towards the outskirts of the nearby cities. Maybe we could find new survivors there. And why not come with us? Every time we ask you, you always refuse. We could really use another guy. Are you scared?" A frown fell on his lips. "We always stick together; it's not right."

”You’ve been awful quiet lately,” Covey said, his face full of concern. “Are you alright?”

Fritz stepped closer to me, his face sunburned and peeling. He slightly scoffed. "That's another thing. We spent all day looking for you yesterday and we couldn't find you anywhere. George said himself that he wasn't sure if you were stopping by here or traveling, but you have to be staying somewhere. Do you live in the woods or around the village? I've never even seen your place before.”

Their eyes all fell on me, trapping me in their sharp gaze. I was rooted there, unable to move. Covey remained silent as my fingers gently wrapped around the walking stick I held in my hands. My heart was thudding, beating against my chest. Although my head was low, my cheeks were burning. I tried to open my mouth, but barely a whisper came through as Fritz released an annoyed sigh and folded his arms behind his neck.

"You barely talk, too. Can you even speak our language properly? You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you were a spy or something. You're lucky George doesn't think you are. That's probably the only reason why you're here." He faintly smirked; a dark gleam settled in his eyes. "Watching us like you do, listening to our conversations. What’s up with that? Why don't you ever say anything? You never accept any new clothing, food, nothing. It's because you think that you're better than us, huh?"

"Fritz, I think you need to take a rest too," Covey interrupted. "It's this heat, you know? I bet--"

The man jabbed a crooked finger in my chest, slightly pushing me back. "He's the reason my best friend is going through so much right now. Because he's worthless. Everything was alright before he came along. He doesn't do anything but stand there. He doesn't even care. He thinks he does, but doesn’t, and only pretends to so that we can trust him. Isn't that right, Milo?"

Ki's face turned a dark red color. "Stop that."

"Oh, come on, give me a break!" Fritz exploded. With his foot, he kicked the stick out of my grasp, and it landed in the ground. "He's crippled, for goodness’ sake. Why can’t you guys see it? He walks like he's possessed. That's why everyone in the village thinks he's weird. You think he can really run in the midst of the ambush? Well, Mr. Beanpole here can't even stand up straight." He gritted his teeth. "Take off that stupid covering and look me in the eyes like a real man."

Silence.

”Look at me.”

Covey tried to hold him back, but he roughly pushed him aside. Suddenly, Fritz’s fist made contact with my face, causing a stinging sensation to course down my nose. I stumbled back, and dropped the plank I was holding. It clattered to the ground, and the world went white for a moment as warm, moist blood trickled down my nose. The sharp taste of iron lingered on my tongue. Another blow caused me to nearly lose my balance, making everything spin. Fritz glared at me, chest rising up and down, before breaking out into a deep laugh. He raised his arm again, but a deep wave of energy washed over me as my hand firmly and suddenly wrapped around his raised brown wrist, stopping him mid blow. My fingernails slightly dug into his skin, before I hesitated, the effect of his words dragging me under; the heat in my face.

A thick ring of ice slowly formed on his palm.

Ki suddenly drew back, releasing a loud, panicked shriek. He tripped and landed on the ground, scrambling backwards on all fours. Despite trying to resist the energy coursing in my veins, a blue glow erupted from my hand. Something else had seized control over me, and the fire inside me erupted. Fritz began to struggle against my grip, his eyes wide with panic. As he desperately fought to pull away from me, flailing and kicking, Covey immediately rushed towards the bow and arrow that laid in the grass. In the corner of my eye, I could see George running towards us. A loud snapping noise, perhaps the sound of bone, echoed in the air, causing Fritz to scream in pain. As the realization of what I had just done fell on me, I immediately let go and stepped back, breathing heavily. Fritz remained on the ground, paralyzed, clutching his wrist, and George knelt next to him, helping him sit up.

"What happened?" he breathlessly asked, before his eyes fell on the ice and snow growing on the ground. Terrified, he yanked at the back of Fritz's shirt and dragged him backwards as it began to spread out. Something wasn't right with the angle of his arm, it was solid, and ice kept traveling down his skin. A lump rose in my throat.

“Make it stop.” His face was twisted with pain and agony as he kept squirming, writhing. His cries transitioned into sobs. “Please, make it stop. It won’t stop.”

As the other bent around him, Ki tore off a piece of fabric from his shirt that was lying on the ground and tightly wrapped it around Fritz’s arm. George began to lightly apply to pressure, causing his comrade to grit his teeth as large chunks of crystals peeled off, along with his skin, falling to the ground.

"I'm...I'm sorry--" I tried to say, my words incoherent and warbled. When I tried to reach out to help; the sound of an arrow whizzing and landing in the dirt near my feet made me draw back. A few stands of my hair blew in the wind, and beads of blood dribbled from my chin down onto the ground. I looked at it, my heart racing.

Covey had another one pointed at me, shaking so badly he could barely hold it. He took a few steps forward. "Consider that a warning, or I'll plant another one in your chest if you take one step closer."

”I’m…” My voice was broken. “I’m sorry.”

“Get away from us.”

A deep lump rose in my throat.

Covey narrowed his eyes, although I could tell he was petrified due to how he stammered. “I said, get out of here.”

George slowly got to his feet from Fritz’s still form, glaring at me. His broad, pale shoulders rose up and down, before he suddenly struck me in the face with his fist.

I landed backwards in the thick mud with a heavy thud, causing it to splatter everywhere. The heat of the sun fell on my exposed face, which I wanted to cover with my hands. The others drew back further. George’s eyes lit up in recognition and shock when he studied the spreading, growing snow on the ground, then me. My wretched blue palms. His right hand slowly balled up into a fist; the skin around my eye where his hand had made contact with was on fire.

”You,” he snarled. “I should’ve known.” His voice grew louder. “You lying son of a bitch.”

A confused, panicked look fell on Covey’s face. “You…you know this man?”

George barely looked in his direction; he was entirely focused on me. I kept my head low, water gathering in my eyes. Mud dripped from my soaked clothes. Fritz was clutching his arm real tight, his breaths shaky as his eyes fell on me.

"He’s not a man," Ki whispered.

Those were the last words I could make out before George lunged at me and simply started swinging. With each blow, I wanted to sink deeper and deeper into the earth. He was screaming words I couldn't bear to listen to, his face wet, and I think his eyes were empty. Soon, I felt several wooden planks being whacked against my body, my clothing ripped and torn off; someone's foot slammed against my ribs. Deep gashes and cuts appeared on my arms and legs, and I endured the pain shooting up them. When I attempted to stand up once more, I got knocked down again. Someone's teeth and nails sank into my flesh, getting a good chunk of it out. When a fist collided against my nose, bits of blood sprayed and floated in the air momentarily as the three men ripped me apart and left my remains on the grass. In the corner of my swollen black right eye, only Covey remained in the back, in the same position. His bow and arrow were lowered; there was more confusion and fear in his eyes than rage, the words monster, beast, spirit, liar came from George’s mouth and you, you, you.

Someone grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the dirt, the sharp tip of a stone spear sliced into my skin. Sand and mud clung to my bare feet and legs; their shoes surrounded me on the ground. A hailstorm of blows fell upon me in the mix of angry voices. And suddenly I felt as if I were back home in Jova, in that filthy hallway, being covered in food. The only difference was that the faces around me were people I knew, in comparison to complete strangers.

And that realization hurt far, far more.

A dark red puddle of blood spread out beneath me as their shadows fell on me. My hair fell over my face as I struggled to sit up, only to be smacked again in the chin by the heel of Ki’s boot. The side of my head slammed against the ground; I struggled to breathe. In the midst of my blurry vision George glared at me, his eyes full of fire, and without exchanged words, they began to scoop up stones and throw them at me. The sensations of rocks colliding against me made me collapse again as the ringing in my ears increased. Ki suddenly yelled out a sentence in the distance as I slowly looked up, struggling to breathe, saliva and blood dripping down my chin and mouth. They had formed a circle around me. My fingers lightly dug into the grass. I wanted to whisper to George, we were almost friends. Almost.

"Here's the evil spirit. The beast. Kill it!"

The roars and shouts of nearby men passing by began to fill my ears.

“Kill it!”

Like a pack of wolves, they were alerted to the cry of their leader, eyes somewhat glowing in the darkness of the rotting earth. This time, the ground shook with thousands of feet pounding in the air. Their spears were raised high in the air as they took off charging towards me; their high pitched battle cries filling the air. I managed to struggle to my feet, and despite the searing pain, began to run, blood trailing down my bleeding and naked body. As I sprinted up a hill, their shadows leaked across the leaves. I shoved vines and branches out of my face, my breaths more out of control than ever. Ignoring the searing pain in my joints and muscles, I began to increase my pace. My bare feet pounded against the dirt as the words followed me in the suddenly dense air. The aroma of rising smoke filled my lungs. Several high pitched battle cries echoed through the trees, followed by the torches they carried.

"Slice the beast's throat, spill his blood."

My bare feet slipped against a patch of mud, causing me to roll down and land in a ditch in an explosion of leaves. I scrambled to climb up another small hill, my head throbbing, arms burning. As orange flames began to spread through, I couldn’t stop coughing and unable to retain balance; my chest tightening up. I didn't dare glance back; as one person prounced on me, I managed to roughly shove him to the side. My mouth was parted; I could barely see, water trickled down my chin and throat. Another person leapt on me from behind a man who held a knife to my neck. After a brief struggle and some sharp pains in my back, I managed to throw him off me, stumbling and tripping, barely able to remain on my feet. The hungry flames began to consume the vegetation around me, the air was so hot my skin was coated in a thick layer of sweat.

“Kill the beast.”

Their chants grew louder. I was hardly able to stand, constantly tripping in the dirt, warm sand and mud clinging to my skin. A deep burning sensation had settled on my lungs; I fought to breathe in the dense smoke, in which the woods were ablaze. And yet, in the shadows, I could make out painted faces, spears raised. Dozens more of them appeared, and their cries grew louder. In the midst of the crackling flames, Covey was crouched low, silent as he observed the blood I had left on the thick leaves and branches.

When his eyes fell on my huddled form in the dense bushes, I could only stare back at him. Beads of sweat traveled down my forehead, as the man hesitated for a moment. Disbelief was still apparent on his face, but he slowly exhaled and looked down, not wanting to face me.

“You see something, Covey?” I heard a man yell. Chills ran down my spine; I dug my fingernails into my thighs.

He didn’t reply at first, before parting the bushes and stepping out of the clearing. “No.”

I gazed at his disappearing form for a while, before silently making my way through the thick bamboo patch in a daze, limping on my bad foot. My mind was spinning.

The sound of trickling water caught my attention as I neared the edge of a small cliff. Below, the lake's surface reflected the gray and orange sky. My knees gave as another shout filled the air. As I weakly stepped off the edge, near the sharply pointed rocks, I sank below the dark surface, where it was cold and empty. The dark abyss was silent, yet heavy at the same time. Bubbles rose from my chin and lips as I held my hands out, causing the liquid to morph around me, creating a pocket of air. As I held my shaking hands out, spitting and coughing, I saw their shadows on the edge; a few spears floating on its surface. But after a moment, one by one; they began to disappear. And when the water collapsed in the space I withheld for myself and started rushing in, the sky was dark and black when I broke through the surface with a strangled gasp and my hair plastered all over my face. The moonlight spilled on its gentle waves.

And the chanting had stopped, leaving me behind with the heavy silence I was all too familiar with.

* * * * * * * * *

When I opened my swollen eyelids, I was lying on my pale white stomach half buried in the soft mud. I tried to close them, praying that it was a dream, that I was back in my shed, waking up from another nightmare, where I was needed in the cornfields. But when I opened them again, I stared at my muddy, sandy palms.

Bubbles swarmed and popped between my bruised fingers as I weakly but slowly sat up, water rushing against my body again. I glanced behind me but found nothing but fireflies and dense vegetation, and the sound of crickets singing in the dark. My legs shook beneath me as I rose to my feet, the only sound in the now cool, crisp air was the branches and leaves blowing in the wind. Above, the remains of burnt trees lingered, still smoldering. I turned my head away from them and stumbled through the dense grass and bushes, still tripping from time to time. Water began to slosh around my ankles; it didn't take me a while to realize I was in the middle of a swamp; an extended marsh. Dragonflies landed on the ferns nearby, their wings glistening in the morning glow. Any noise that I heard I quickly ducked behind a log, only to peek out and realize that there merely came from toads who leapt from one lily pad to the other. Flies buzzed around and landed on the large thick leaves.

Kill the beast.

In a daze, I slowly sank into the tea colored water, my blood making it appear more pink. After gently splashing and washing my stinging wounds the best I could, the previous day's events slowly came over me. I buried my head in my knees while curled up in a ball under a large willow tree, my deep breaths the only sound in the humid air. I was back in my kitchen again, covered in food. My vertebrae and hip bones poked through my translucent skin as my naked body slightly shook. A series of heavy gasps fell from me. I cursed myself for losing control and hurting Fritz; and all I could see was the look in George's face, no matter how hard I tried to push it out. I longed for the boots Covey had given me and wished to hold them one last time, but they were back in the shed.

What did you expect? A celebration? You knew this would happen. You’re alone.

Once I had I looked up and wiped my puffy eyes, realizing that it was growing dark and my stomach was grumbling, which was odd, since I had lacked an appetite for days, weeks even. There wasn't another soul around; and the crickets began to sing as I found some mushrooms and pine nuts, collecting them in a large leaf. After being somewhat satisfied, I piled thick bunches of moss together and laid down on them.

When I jolted awake again, it was pitch black outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The heavy rain fell on my ash covered skin, soaking my hair and face. Blindly, I stumbled forward, clutching my side, my face wet with salt water. A trail of ice spread out from the soles of my bare feet as my eyes fell on a small vacant cave, which was dark. After clearing the vines to its entrance, I realized how small it was. Somehow, I expected to spot another villager, but I soon realized that this territory was completely uninhabited, besides the small creatures who dwelled here.

You’re always alone.

For the next couple of days, after building a small fireplace with some scraps of wood, I slowly retraced my steps, past the damaged acres that had been consumed by fire. A few broken spears floated in the water. An indescribable bout of rage seized and dragged me further. I froze them together in a large ice block before chucking it against a cluster of rocks. The faint force of nearby rushed through the trees as I bent over, shaking, as a thick wave of black ice spread across the trees, causing several to fall over and collapse under its weight. A cold wind blew in the air, so much so that leaves withered and fell apart, coating and freezing everything in my path. But I didn’t feel cold in the slightest; rather, I was hot all over. Using my water tendrils, I heaved several in the air and chucked them into the steam, causing them to land in the middle with a heavy splash. When I caught my reflection in a puddle, I remained still, realizing that this was what people saw when they looked at me. I started slamming my fists against the surface of the water, slathering and covering myself with mud and moss, my breaths shaky and wild.

Kill the beast.

The fire inside of me shredded the last ounce of restraint I held over myself. I then proceeded to destroy everything around me. The ground was bare and empty, all vegetation had been lost. Once each plant was coated in a ugly layer of frost, wilted and dead and lifeless, I could only look at the mess I had made. I knew I deserved to be alone; that loneliness would always follow me. The ice and snow were my only company, and we were inseparable, fused together as one. I tried to accept this. But as one year slowly transitioned into two, then three, like a child that had been told no multiple times by an adult, I still continued to beg and nag and plead in the dark. Any separate living thing, anything wit a mind and a soul whom I could have some form of friendship or connection with. Not mud and rocks and stones.

Flesh.

I whispered to the universe each night, Please. Please. Please.

There was no reply. Just glittering stars.

* * * * * * * *

Surely, the villagers desired something in order to survive. Food, water, security. They needed supplies. And although I was invisible, their instinct for survival fueled my purpose. If they wanted to live, so did I. The village merely appeared to be a dot from where I was, through the tangled vines and leaves and my disheveled hair, I spotted the village. I placed a muddy hand on the bark of the tree I had climbed up and looked away, slipping back into the shadows where I knew I belonged.

Where I always would be.

But maybe, just maybe, I would still be needed, although they did would not realize so. Dirt and ashes plastered my bruised body, my skin deeply burned and itched; like it was suddenly too tight on me. I wanted to peel it all off, throw it away. I found myself wondering about the boys a lot, often letting the tears I was trying to hold back for days silently trickle down my face. I longed to give them another shooting lesson. I missed their bickering and laughter. Such thoughts were meaningless now, but I couldn’t resist them. I wondered about Fritz's arm, if he would be able to use it again. Or how George would be able to construct a hut all on his own; if Covey or Ki’luwani would be ever have the strength to look at a gun again and use it with confidence to protect their people from monsters like me.

* * * * * * * *

I broke off a flat, thick piece of tree bark. After sharpening the edge of a stone, I began to carve out shaky, poorly shaped letters on the inside of its surface, my blistered fingers curled around its edge.

I’m sorry.

After reading the message a couple of times to myself, in the middle of the night, I snuck back to the village in the dark and left it in front of George's hut. I stood there for a moment, my throat tightened up. As I silently made my way back to the woods, using my tendrils to guide myself through the trees, I sensed that someone's eyes were upon me. But when I turned in the shadows, I saw nothing. It hardly mattered; I knew that the note would probably be tossed in the fireplace or destroyed in a matter of hours when they awoke. But I hoped they at least had the opportunity to read it before they did, although it was very unlikely. I half expected them to come back and research area I was in, but no such thing happened. I wanted them to keep looking, so that their voices and chatter would ease my loneliness. For them, was better to have the beast away at a great distance than to make sure that it was really dead.

So, to make them come here, I would have to routinely frighten them. Stir up their nerves a bit. Then, as they searched for me, they would at least be here momentarily.

As mosquitos rose in the air, I slathered mud over myself to stop myself from scratching the large red bumps and chiggers that had gathered and multiplied on my skin. With a stick, I dug up more mushrooms, large yucca roots, and berries. I placed these in an empty turtle shell I had found by the lake. Leaves and twigs stuck from my knotted hair; I crouched low and silently made my way through the grass, watching a small wild boar munch on grass. Fighting through a moment of guilt, I held a hand out, watching an large ice spike slice through its body to quickly end its suffering, which was lifeless and fell on the ground. I crawled towards it on all fours and dragged it back to my cave, blood smearing on the ground. For a while, I laid next to it in the dirt and lightly ran my hand across its still warm coat.

As I carefully skinned and de gutted the creature with makeshift knife I had made, I contemplated going back to Navu and locating more survivors to bring to the village. Its slimy organs glistened on the rock as I began to separate the meat from the bones, breathing heavily. I would write letting the boys know that I would have more food for them. But I realized that another note wouldn't be feasible; it had only been a couple of weeks since they had been in my horrendous presence. I was coated in thick pica’s blood; I stared at my filthy palms from behind my hair and weakly exhaled as I continued sawing the meat. When I placed a finger in my mouth, it tasted sweet, like human blood. The fireplace cracked loudly and snapped. I would have to go to the city, sooner or later. The problem was to do so when they were ready to take on more prisoners; when they had the resources to do so. As I began to write another message, the small stone I etched it with broke apart.

* * * * * * * *

The universe remained silent.

I spoke to the lilies, the trees, the bushes. I started to believe that plants could talk back; they were intelligent creatures that grew and absorbed whatever was put out there for them to receive. So I told them everything I knew. I created ice statues and pretended they were people. My hands were covered in scratches because I spent hours creating flower wreaths and placing them on their transparent, clear heads, including my own. They wore bright yellow tulips; I had bright blue forget me nots in my tangled hair. I danced around them, arms raised in the air, legs hopping and skipping, giggling and laughing carefree in the cold darkness until I was hysterical, a warm glow of life and sweat fell over my naked body, and their imagined voices met my own. They waved and smiled at me, and I did the same back to them. However, I was devastated to see how they had become large puddles by the following morning that sloshed around my bare feet, followed by the soggy petals.

Every morning I crouched on the branches, listening to the birds chirping, including robins and blue jays and cardinals. I wrote note after note for the boys but threw them all away because they didn't sound right; too artificial. My eyes looked a bit larger and bulged out more than normal. I would spend my days staring at maggots collecting on a dead rabbit’s flesh. At night, when I heard an owl hooting, I broadly smiled at its presence in the darkness, my teeth the only visible thing in the pitch black. I chewed on large chunks of dead skin on my lips. I slowly pulled off my brittle, black fingernails and placed them neatly in a row on a rock, blood smearing on its surface, softly humming.

And it soon enough, it began to snow.

I only ever returned to the village at night a few days each week to leave what food I could scavenge in the swamps. Whether it was fish, berries, nuts, raw pig—I left it all, usually wrapped in leaves and piled in empty turtle shells. When I returned, I noticed the now finished huts, already filled with new families and dreams and laughter.

Something invisible held me down, tied me by force through my hands and legs. I was being unproductive. What I needed to be doing was move to the city to get more people out towards the place. But then I realized that I did not deserve to be around them, not anyone ever again. I was a burden to their society, a existential threat. I was no one, had no one; no family, no friends. I was existing, not living, because living had never been a real option to me.

I was an empty shell.

Due to this revelation I couldn't even get up off the floor of my cave sweating and naked in the dark, although the walls were frozen solid. I replayed thousands of scenarios of what I could had done differently with the boys. How I could have reacted. I held the plants had uprooted from the ground and held them very close to me. Their bristled leaves brushed my chin, and I whispered secrets and promises to them that only they could ever know; not any other human. They were alive, and that was all that truly mattered, that this was the only form of life around me that I could interact with. Insects and mice were a plus because there were moving and living and real, although they often died by my touch because I accidentally froze them into lifeless shells of themselves. I buried them in small patches I dug in the dirt, gently patting the soil on top of their graves.

* * * * * * * *

There was a low whine.

I was spearing small trout by the lake when the noise made me immediately look up. After slinging them over my shoulder, the low whimpering noise continued. The catch slipped out of my hands and fell into the mud with a loud plop, but I barely cared. I began to run, crawl, tumble, the tea covered water splashing around my feet, eager to hear another noise besides the ones I made in this silent, empty place. As I leapt from one moss covered branch to another, each tree began captured in white. After following it, I came across a patch of grass and slowly lowered myself behind it, breathing heavily, like a cat spying a mouse. Once I got a decent look at the darkened figure my heart stopped.

A greyhound laid on his side on the ground, his side rapidly rising up and down. His coat was mottled with brown and white, long tail curled. His floppy ears were sprawled out. When his dark eyes met mine, he suddenly growled, teeth bared, I noticed that a gaping wounds was visible on his hind legs. He had actually gotten caught in one of the traps I had set up, causing an enormous wave of guilt to wash over me. It had been so long since I seen a dog, or any living creature, I almost quite didn’t know what to do. But a wave of realization fell over me.

The universe had heard me.

“Hello, sweet boy. It’s alright. It’s alright.”

He raised his head again as I crawled a bit closer, through the tall grass. His tail was thumping against the ground.

I softly whistled, made a clicking noise with my blistered, scabbed lips. “Here.”

A loud bark.

When I slowly reached out to him with my hand, he snarled and bit it. I drew back my bleeding wrist as he began to bark ferociously, growling once more. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel any pain. I held it out to him again, water springing in my eyes, grateful that he was in the same place I was.

"Here, boy.”

Another aggressive bark.

Ignoring the searing pain in my arm, I made a clicking noise with my mouth, before faintly whispering,"It's alright, baby boy."

His eyes never left me as I carefully untied his foot from the trap. I wondered how he had gotten here; he had been a gift sent by the universe itself, who had noticed my loneliness. It was giving me an far undeserved chance, although I sensed that there was something else it was planning to present to me. I just had to be patient. The moment he tried to nip at me again, I very quickly yanked out the sharp piece of wood lodged in his paw, causing him to yelp.

“Shh,” I whispered. “I know it hurts. I know.”

His barks became softer as I slowly reached to him again, gently stroking his coat with my fingers. My scabbed lips curled into a faint smile as his wet nose nuzzled my palm, and before I knew it, I was holding him real tight in my arms and buried my face in his soft fur. His heart beat faster against my naked chest. I inhaled his scent and released a deep breath. Salt water dripped from my chin and landed between his ears.

Here Boy's soft barks echoed in my cave as I gently placed him on my bed of moss. As I began to work on the red gash by cleaning it out thoroughly, a strange sense of purpose for the first time in weeks fell upon me. Once I was done tending to his wound, he began to lick his injured leg as I prepared a few pieces of fish for him. He ate these heartily, before resting his head on his paws and releasing a low whine. I spent all night lying next to him, stroking his fur as he continued to lick my face. His rough pink tongue brushed against my nose as I gently scratched behind his floppy ears.

And I told the universe, as warm tears streamed down my face, thank you, thank you.

* * * * * *

When dawn arrived, I left the cave while Here Boy was asleep, but not before gently running my hands through his matted coat and checking his wound. In the darkness, I headed to the village as part of my routine; food clutched in my hands. As I crouched below several bushes, an odd sight caught my eye, in the distance across the fields.

Everyone else seemed to be fast asleep.

I could make out George's silhouette in the distance as a large group of people began to make their way towards him across a field; mostly consisting of women; a few men. Unable to tear my eyes from the unusual sight; I crawled forward in the grass, having it brush against my bare thighs. The raw bundle of slimy fish I carried on my back fell to the ground; I tried to count how many newcomers had arrived so I could bring in more food. When my bloody fingers wrapped a tree bark, I slowly crouched down in the tall grass, squatting on my bare heels. My lips were parted due to my labored breaths. Only my right eye was visible between the thick green blades and my hair.