The Kindreds, Volume 1

The Tenth, Pt. 1

Sada

Sada had in fact not resumed walking in the direction she had been going.

The rain had gone on for a long while, but the trees provided a fair amount of cover when she walked near their branches, and so she'd forced herself to go on whenever it was light enough to see. When sun was finally revealed, it was made clear to her that she had continued her journey with the sun's rise to her right rather than her left. This realization had not rendered her in sorrow's throes, however, and she'd just accepted the fact calmly and reoriented herself, all the while chewing on an elderberry tart. She'd noticed a change in herself during her time

(away from her father)

in the forest. She was less scared: less scared of making decisions on her own, less scared of being alone, less scared of simply existing, for fear that she would do it wrong. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she thought that she might even like being lost. A small part of her—though it was steadily growing—didn't want to find the Elf king and the portal again, because it meant she would return home to a place where she didn't have the freedom to become lost, or even choose her own clothes.

At first, her dirtied dress had been a source of embarrassment. Now she grinned whenever she saw the stains, because they meant that she was in a place where she wouldn't be scolded or hit for having them. She couldn't think about this too long, though, or guilt and shame would torment her. She had a perfect life, and a perfect father, and to wish to escape that was being as ungrateful as she could possibly be. She deserved a lashing for such thoughts.

But it wasn't only those thoughts that allowed her to accept her situation so easily. She had also simply exhausted herself of worry over being lost. It was really not too bad. So upon seeing the sun, she'd spun about and started back in the right direction.

The animals had watched with blank-stared fascination, then continued following her at a distance. With the brave ones, she'd shared bits of her food. One porcupine even followed her for the better part of a day. Sada had decided that in a world inhabited by the children of angels, soap-mouth was the least of her concerns.

Her main concern was her complete lack of skill in navigation. She would begin walking in the correct direction, but it seemed that every time she checked the sun, she was going the wrong way. Whether that was because walking around trees and boulders had ended up shifting her direction ever so slightly until she was turned completely around or it was simply due to her lack of skill, she did not know. Either way, it was becoming frustrating.

But so far that day she'd managed, more or less, to keep on the correct path. But when one worry abated, another arose: The food from the clan had been reduced to crumbs some time ago. Now even the crumbs were gone; too hungry to be concerned with manners, she'd wetted her finger on her tongue and pressed it against the little morsels until they stuck, then sucked them greedily off. When those too were gone and the crumbs had been reduced to specks of gritty sand and bits of moss that had blown into the satchel, she'd left it hung over a branch where she hoped someone else would find it and make use of it.

Eventually, the hunger had faded as her body realized she wouldn't be eating anytime soon (she would certainly not be trying any more berries). The time it took for her body to adapt was surprisingly short. But while she no longer felt hunger, she was weak from walking so constantly with little rest and no sustenance. Though weak and ever fatigued, her legs no longer pained her with aches while she walked. They had not exactly become strong, only numbed to the pain of exercise, and now dutifully toted her along without a word of complaint. It was at night when the pain set in, when she stopped moving. But if she fell asleep quickly enough, she usually didn't notice it.