Letter 4 Algoma – Rowtag

Dear brother Rowtag

            Unlike last week which was uneventful, I think that I may have been exposed to some very dangerous water. The last stream I drank from, about two days ago (though I have had a steady stream of rain water) was nearly stagnant. Since then I’ve been throwing up with greater and greater frequency, in fact I haven’t been able to travel more than a few hundred yards before it happens at this point. As such I have taken a day to rest, my pack should have enough provisions to allow me to skip hunting to travel for twenty-four or so hours. We both grew up in the jungle and though you were trained to be a hunter and I wasn’t, that didn’t stop us from sharing the day’s lessons late at night. I was just fifteen when they imprisoned me, and though the land has changed and my memory of its lay fades, my ability to live off it is as clear as ever. The only thing which matches my wandering of this trail in the wandering of my mind. There were so many dead in the fire, but again so many unburned. There must have been some very deadly disease spreading; they didn’t even have time to clear the bodies from where they lay. It seems unlikely that the extermination of the village, by fire no less, and the illness are unrelated. As always I can only hope that you are alright, and that these letters reach you eventually.

Your sister Algoma

Letter 3 Algoma – Rowtag

Dear brother Rowtag

            This first week has been less eventful then one might expect for a lone survivor in the jungle, for I have come through with little difficulty. I have had plenty of time to think about the fire and to plan my actions out during this long trek to the mountain. During those first terrifying moments where the fire was just starting, I told you I’d heard voices, but now that I focus on that memory it’s clear that there were two separate dialects being shouted, one of my captors village and another that sounded more like home. It scares me to admit that those of the captors where shouts of fear while the ones of home were different, even malicious. I have come to believe that this fire was no accident, and that some tribe has destroyed my captors’. In the last letter I mentioned that the landmarks have changed so much, it’s quite startling because we’re used to the jungle being a constant but it really does change with time as we do. The large rock that once stood impressively upon the mountain I am headed too has fallen, that must have been the crash we heard a year to two abo in the village, many assumed that the gods were bringing their wrath so none would describe the scene to a thieving commoner like myself. AS it turns out that tribe had more to fear from their neighbors than the gods. More may not remember this, but father took us on a very long downstream bot trip when we were younger, that river lead straight through where I believe I am right now, but I cannot find it anywhere. I must assume that it has wound its way through different section of jungle at this point, which is actually quite unfortunate because it lead almost directly home. I have also developed a rash or some sort of persistent set of bug bites, my legs have been covered in reddish spots. I believe it to be high summer so these are probably mosquitos and are nothing I can’t handle.

Your sister Algoma

Letter 2 Algoma – Rowtag

Dear brother Rowtag

            It’s been many years since we last spoke and you probably thought that I was dead, that is assuming that you ever see this letter anyway. In reality I was imprisoned after making a deal with the butcher from the village just past the mountain west of the great river. The deal was fair, but he thought the meat I’d sold was too old and refused to pay me, despite having inspected and passed it himself prior to making his offer. Because there were very few options for me, I was forced to steal the money back and try to escape into the night, unfortunately I was caught. That must have been three or even four years ago at this point, it’s a miracle that I even survived for so long. It was by a stroke of luck that I am even now free, the rest of the town was burned down, though there were many dead bodies without the marks of fire you’d expect. It was late at night and I was woken by a rising heat in my cell, then the yelling started and a slow orange glow filtered through the single barred window of the room. Fearing for my life I to begin to yell, but was soon knocked out by the sheer amount of smoke filling my lungs. When I awoke, all was quiet and the door, usually barred too, was visibly weakened but flame. I was easily able to break it down after a few solid hits with the single chair my chamber had been furnished with. After obtaining that freedom, I gathered up some supplies and set out toward our home, though I can’t be too sure of its direction as it’s been years since I was even able to walk through the forest, much less navigate without the old landmarks. While I can’t be sure that and of this will ever reach your eyes, these letters will likely be more for my own sanity than to tell of my adventures. If you do see them it will probably be from my own hand in which case I’ll be able to relate the story in person.

Your sister Algoma

Letter 1 H. Mallard – C. Drier

PSU | Pacific Southwestern University

Hank Millard PhD

Dept. Chair of Life Sciences; Pathology

Dear Cynthia Drier

            We met at the historical symposium in San Francisco in 2013, but have only now found a reason for a follow-up. I said it then and I’ll say It here again, your talk was illuminating and though I know you were at the time looking into a TED collaboration, I haven’t heard anything about that in nearly a year. However, I may have a case you’re interested in for a few reasons, some of which I will reveal now, but others I cannot yet confirm so would prefer to keep hidden. About 3 months ago a lab report was misfiled by one of my grad students, though something like that would usually be unfortunate, in this case it was very opportune. This specific report was based on a highly composed body found in the deep Brazilian jungle, about 700 miles from the eastern coast and just south of the Mato Grosso. The body was deep in a cave often hidden by tidal cycles, and was therefore little more than a salt razed pile, certainly not a usable sample. There was however a sealed leather tube containing what appeared to be letters, around ten of them. The report and letters were originally meant of my college S. Winters, you may have met here at that symposium with me, she spoke about early trade craft in the Americas; something that I’m sure falls into your interests. The report seems mostly interested in the construction of the leather parcel, along with the parchment and ink which have remained intact over these past 800 years. At my request the reports were moved to my department, and now we may be on the cusp of a historical and medical discovery. My communication with you over the next few weeks will come as we are able to restore and translate the documents. I will also periodically add my own analysis in a letter or two over the ten week period because I’m sure you’ll be interested in that aspect too.

-          H. Millard