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
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