ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴇᴍʙʟᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ

𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟

This was written when we had a post-apocalyptic segment. While most people made their apocalypse futuristic, I made mine based on the past. Why? Because I was built different.

I bent down towards my father. I could feel the foreigners' eyes on the back of my head. Tears raced down against my face, as I said the final prayers of the dead against his ears. I was pulled back too early. I only had time for one glance before they headed me towards the entrance gates. Only one chance to see my people. My dead people. I walked forward with my head down low, with my father's last words ringing in my ears. "Do not look back".

I woke up, suddenly aware of where I was, the river rushing behind me. I looked towards the dying embers of the fire I lit the night before, rabbit bones littered right next to it. Carefully, I got up, one hand on my pregnant stomach; the only reason I was and am still breathing.

Looking up at the sky, I realised that it was midday. One more day before safety. I recited what I was to say to the Wampanoaq chief, as I cleaned the fireplace, so as not to leave any indication of my stay. "I am Catori Aiyana, daughter of the great chief of the Pequot people and I bow for solace among your tribe, so that I may survive for my brethren and children." I looked back at the river before I reached for the little clothes I had, and continued to march west.

I decided to check on the traps I'd put down the previous day, in the hopes of finding some sort of nutrients to fulfil me and the babies. I went looked for rabbits, so as not to get my hopes up over there not being any prize-worthy meat, like boar or deer. And I wasn't disappointed as I found four chipmunks and squirrels in my various traps. I decided to smoke them over a low fire so I might not direct any attention to my location.

After burying the bones and thanking the gods for the meal, I continued my journey, with the only weapon I had in hand, a serrated knife I had made with the left over bones of my first rabbit meal. It may not tear through skin as much as my old weapon, Thomoa, did, but it could still do some serious damage, if the pressure was applied enough.

I thought back on the last scout's meeting, about what they said about the ravine and the rope bridge that connected our lands with the lands of the Wampanoaq. That was my best bet if I were to get to their villages as soon as possible.

I was just about to head in to the clearing where the bridge can be entered through when I heard the unmistakeable brake of a branch. By how loud the crunch was, I had to say it was either a bear or a human. I listen closely, hoping for a growl. Then I heard it. Their alien tongue.

I backed away slowly, my warrior senses heightened, as I looked on from behind a trees and bushes at the tubes in their hands, the same ones that massacred my entire village. I couldn't do much against five of them, not with this belly I wouldn't. But then, a plan started to formulate in my mind. Not yet I couldn't. I looked up and saw that I had a few hours before dusk, which was more than enough time to watch, observe and gather information.

And so I waited, and saw that every two hours the guards in the north-east and south-west retire from the wandering in the same spot, only to be replaced by somebody else who did the same thing. The guards. They were the ones I needed to be careful of. By my calculations, the south-west position will be guarded by the young one. Something I'd learnt from watching the younger warriors train was that the young men in our village get cocky, and getting cocky costs you your life.

I waited till midnight and watched as my calculations came true. The younger one took his place and I started coming upon the camp. Pulling out my rabbit knife, I crept up behind the guard and gave him one swift blow behind the head. I grabbed the knife in his belt before he could get out of his disorientation and sliced his neck. Quick and quiet, nothing like what they did to my tribe. I watched patiently as the blood began gushing like the waterfalls back home. And from there, it was too easy. Everyone else was asleep as I slowly tip-toed into all of their tents, came upon them as the death god and watched as their life force gurgle and rush from their new cuts.

The other guard, I had kept for last. By the way he talked to the others, he was their commander, and was just as seemingly cruel and ruthless as the one who led the army that killed my village. The anger that I felt for them, the one that I'd thought I'd buried, rose as a screaming pillar of fire within me as I stared at his defenceless back. He turned back too late and the last thing he saw before he started screaming was a mask of fury and wrath. And then, too soon, the night became silent.

I pulled the bodies into the already burning fireplace and said the final prayers for them and decided the settle in their tents for the night. As I ate my leftover squirrel, I finally relaxed. For the first time in a while I slept a dreamless sleep, and woke up refreshed and ready.

I got to the opening of the bridge and paused. I realised I was looking for some sort of remorse or guilt within myself, but I found none. Instead, I continued steadily across the bridge, holding on to the bars for life. Until my bare feet touched the soft ground and I felt safe.