The True Meaning of A Warrior

Chapter Seventeen: The Beginning of the End (EVE)

This continued on for lots of days, weeks, maybe even months. We preyed upon the berries for a long time, and much of it was canned and stored up. Our group-the "magics" group-was in charge of finding food and clean water, which wasn't so hard given our powers. Or, at least, the others' powers.

Sometimes I missed my sword, and just realized how much I'd depended on it before.

Anyway, the other groups were in charge of building tents, making fences, boiling water, making fire, cooking, washing, cleaning, taking care of the young, and so many other jobs.

The first tents had begun to form, and the "magics" group all shared one pretty big tent. It wasn't exactly comfortable, and there were no mattresses, blankets, or pillows, but it was okay. At least we got to sleep under a good roof.

Every "supposedly" morning we'd wake up to darkness and shadows, head out to collect food and boil water, and then come back for a late half-breakfast, half-lunch kind of meal. Then we would tag along as the magical people helped out with random jobs using their magic throughout the camp site. After that, more collecting food and water, a mild dinner, and then heading back to your tent for some much-needed rest. Sometimes after dinner there would be a little bit of washing, clothes rinsing, extra chores, canning fruits, but mostly not.

Today was a normal day. We'd just finished our breakfast-lunch, and had just begun our amazing trip to tag along with our families as they used their magic to help the other groups.

Somehow, though, we'd ended up by the river, in our own solitary group, with none of the other groups with us. I guess Group C did sort of deserve a break...but now the jobs' weight is on us, right?

I can only say it's the river because it's where the Animalina River flows into, but in my visualizing mind it's more of a stream. Its gurgling ripples are softer than the steady, channeled flow of the river, and there are more shores of pebbles than beaches of wet sand.

But I can't make sure it's a stream and not a river, either, because, you know, there is absolutely, literally zero amount of light, except for the slight glow of some of our moonlight-empowered magical weapons.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever see daylight again. I don't want to be emotional and sentimental...but somehow, this journey doesn't quite feel over. Perhaps because somehow, this whole thing started as trying to pry open an old family secret and ended up with losing so many lives, and any sort of light that came from the sky.

Cool strands of water lapped against my bare feet, the soft but chilly water stinging me back into the present and out of my thoughts. Even if this entire thing was a little bit unfair, I'd just have to live it for now.

I bent down, scooping up a handful of black-colored water from the night and letting the stream slip through my fingers and dribble back into its little river.

"Hey," Stella's voice came from somewhere in the everlasting darkness behind me. "Aren't you supposed to be collecting water?" she asked, echoing my own thoughts.

"Uhh, yes, I'm supposed to be," I muttered quickly. The weight of the stone-carved pot in my left hand was heavy as I bent down and scooped up a potful of stream water, obsidian black like an onyx jewel against the forever night. "And as you can see, I definitely am."

"Okay, just remember to not forget," Stella answered with a flimsy chuckle. "We-"

Click.

Click.

Static tingled through the air.

I jumped, ever so slightly. "What was that?" I hissed to Stella.