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
No comments:
Post a Comment