We keep running and running and running through bone-weary exhaustion.
The grass is cold in a dead sort of way rather than a sparking winter sort of way. It is just the tiniest bit wet with what doesn't quite feel like water. The air is damp but not quite foggy around us. The Fateworld is really a strange world to be in. An unsettling one.
Lilith is in front of me by a few steps, and Anderei and Katapa are behind me so I can't quite see them.
Love is pumping, pumping, pumping throughout my mind.
It is a glorious feeling and a grief-mired feeling both at once. Love is both overwhelming grief and unbreakable strength.
It has always been this way. The love I feel for the family and community of my childhood, for my parents. For the aunts and uncles and titis both biological and adopted, who were pretty much my parents. For the friends I grew up with. That grief is always a stone in my chest, a flood I drown in. But the knowledge that they love me, that they see me as a human being, that they sincerely want me to be happy, that they think about me just as I think about them, it's something that gives me life to keep going. The grief that my old family and my new family and all my fellow slaves, who are indeed all my family, are stuck in these cycles of suffering and hopelessness. The strength that comes from knowing that we are all one, we are all together. The fresh, days-old grief that my /children/ will suffer through the same childhood I suffered through. The strength of loving them. Pain and healing, protection and destruction, poison and medicine. Love.
And right now it is the energy that powers my steps. My flight.
Suddenly we stop. The damp, slightly slimy grass has been replaced with jagged, sharp-edged rocks, all of which jut out at harsh angles, have ridges sharp enough to cut our bare feet.
"What is this?" Anderei asks.
"I'm fucked if I know," Katapa replies, "probably some weird Fate stuff."
"Let's be careful," I say, voice full of circulating concern.
We tread slowly on the harsh ground, careful to not get cut on the jutting rocks and sharp edges.
Suddenly we hear a thunderous roar. Not a wild roar. Not one that could've come from an animal or anything remotely like one. No, rather it is the roar of an enraged man. And a rather powerful one.
"Please, sir! The baby needs food!" This voice is of an adolescent girl. It is crying and full of desperation, pleading, terror, sorrow, and, in fact, guilt.
"You should have thought about that before you shirked your goddamn responsibilities and decided to make half these stitches all crooked!" This is the voice of a man, but somehow different from the voice of the roaring one, but still the same nonetheless.
"Sir! Please. I will fix them even if it kills me. But just let me stop to feed my infant child when she needs me!"
The four of us had previously been hiding behind a large boulder, but now we peek our heads out in concern.
In the barren rocky landscape, there is an image of a grey-walled room, with a handful of people hunched over pieces of fabric. It is a translucent image against the solidity of the landscape, all of it. As if it is somehow from a dream. But it doesn't seem dreamlike, it seems real. There is a dark-eyed girl, crying. She is holding a baby, who is maybe a few months old. Around her horrified-looking workers look on, obviously wishing they could give her some form of comfort. A middle-aged woman who looks older than she should, a young adult with smouldering eyes, and two teenagers. A towering man clad in a clean white fine-woven shirt and black slacks with suspenders looms over the teenaged girl, seething with rage.
This man has another man behind him. A man dressed in red and gold and orange. He has layers upon layers of whole furs draped over him and a long, polished and engraved rifle that looks like it is made of the most expensive wood. He isn't a flickering half-image but rather solid and shining against the dreary sky. Snarling and smirking, he dances his fingers over the towersman's head and sends faded plumes of purple smoke into the image.
The man in the fine shirt wrests the infant from the girl's arms, and the child begins to cry. They have the smallest tuft of black hair on their little round head. His rough arms grip the baby a bit too hard, grip them wrong. The child starts crying louder. A wild, terrible, small, delicate, human, divine sound that should not exist in this world. I'm tensed in horror. She screams. Tears are running down her face.
"Please! Don't hurt my baby please sir..."
Then the man sweeps out of the room, his footsteps fast and furious. And hard so so hard. The baby is silent now, eyes wide with terror, with desperation. The door slams shut behind him. He puts the wet-eyed, months-old infant on the ground beside the wall. Outside. Then he leaves. The baby is limp against the hard unyieldingness of the ground. Once the man rushes away the baby starts to cry again.
What the fuck? Who does that? Well the towerpeople. But babies don't belong on the ground. Oh universe. The child is crying and crying and crying, flickering in and out of visibility. And oh universe my heart is dying. The man, the Fate I guess, dressed in fur and with hard eyes is snarling and laughing as he sends deep purple plumes of smoke into the flickering towerperson. The curling and shifting smoke arcs across the divide, somehow both steel-edged and solid and slippery and smoke-like. Smoke like. Not smoke. It coalesces around his head, around his short-cut silky brown hair, twisting and warping before sweeping into his very head, or stringing through his ears. The Fate laughs. The man sneers. He turns on his heel and leaves. The Fate vanishes in a sparkling puff.
Everything seems more unreal than it ever did as the baby cries and cries and cries. They cry and it's such a horrible sound and I'm called to this child. I snap out of my trance. I run to the child. Transcending boundaries, I pick them up into my arms, rock them gently. They feel solid, soft, real. Beautiful. Precious. So full of innocence and vulnerability. I stare at their face, which no longer flickers. I hold them tight to my chest and rock back and forth, singing softly.
/I'll carry you up this shadowy hill
Over the horizon still
We'll emerge on the sunbathed side
I see you baby, you don't have to hide
I'll carry you up this shadowy hill
Over the horizon still
We'll emerge on the sunbathed side
I see you baby, you don't have to hide
I'll carry you up this shadowy hill
Over the horizon still
We'll emerge on the sunbathed side
I see you baby, you don't have to hide/
It's the very same lullaby I sang to Mafalia, Pavlin, Andronicha and Levi when they were ... with us. I cry. Oh God. One day this child too will be sold. And they will cry. And their mother will cry. I start changing the words of the song as I rock my, her, our precious bundle back and forth.
/Son, daughter, or child of the Earth and Sky
May you be free may you fly
May they know that you are a god
May you strike wildfire like a lightening rod/
The child has calmed down somewhat now, soothed by my rocking, by the quietness of my singing. Thank the universe. But they're still fretful. They spend moments, sometimes minutes, in semi-peaceful wide-eyed silence only to break out into soft wails again. Do they miss their mother? Could I take them to their mother? I have to check if the towerman is in that cramped room.
I force my tired legs up and start walking, quiet as a breeze over grass, towards the door. It's open, just enough for me to poke me head in. Of course I don't poke my head in. I do however look around, and see that the towerman isn't there, just a bunch of tired humans desperately sewing. A young man, barely a man, who looks strained beyond his years stares at me with wide eyes before gesturing me in.
"Who are you?" he asks, soft-voiced and confused.
"I ... um ... I'm Nancee. I' a slave too, though not from this household."
"Oh. I'm Adoolen. These are Jira, Onomayie, and Aslesha and Yenako." They wave, before getting back to work. I know how it is. You can't stop working. No matter what.
"Hi. The baby needs their mom? And food?"
Aslesha extends her arms, and I kneel down next to her. Oh so carefully, gently, we exchange hold of the baby. Aslesha looks at the child like she wants to cry, and the child does cry. At this, Aslesha quickly pulls out her breast and helps the child drink the milk. She puts the baby in the fabric sling she had previously readjusted, tying it better so it won't slip this time, but still holds her baby through the fabric of the sling.
"Our overseer won't be back for a while. But in the meantime Aslesha has to redo all of this, while finishing her other work." Jira looks at me sadly. Her hair had tiny bits of gray in it but for our people that doesn't mean we are old, just worn-down.
"I could help with the sewing." I fucking hate sewing. So much. But the child needs food, and comfort.
"We can handle it. It would be too risky if the master sees you here. Stand guard, maybe," Adoolen replies.
"This is just a shitty situation," Onomayie states.
"Yeah."
We look at each other, and then look at the fretful baby. It's only a few moments but it feels like a while.
"She's sick. We need herbs. We need shoko leaves and kee stems." Yenako says this with both worry and hope in their voice. I've been in this same situation. Sick children. Fever or stomach flu or colic or mystery illness. I know the types of support systems us slaves have. If someone is sick we will send the information down the line, and any person who knows knowledge of which plants will help shares that knowledge. And the people who live near where the appropriate plants grow go out - at personal risk - to collect them. The plants are sent back up the chain to those who know how to prepare them. And the medicine is slipped into the hands of those who need it. When I was a young child my parents and aunts and uncles and titis would go out to gather herbs from the brush by the river bank. As an adult we've received so much help from the medicine network. And in turn we've helped Katapa prepare medicine for many people all over, in the quiet of the kitchen at night, by candlelight, on many occasions.
I'm part of the network, I always have been and I know what to do. I will pass on this message as soon as I'm done guarding the door. We all look solemnly at each other. I place a kiss on the baby's forehead.
And then I head out the door. What I see astounds me. There are small, fragile-looking herbs, ranging from an inch long to about three feet tall, growing in a blanket over the dusty path that leads to the door. It's a soft, almost glowing blanket of green that is so full of life you can almost hear it humming with it. What's even more is that the towerman is lying face down across some of the plants. His right arm is splayed out over his head and his left arm is bent crooked at the elbow, by his side. Is he asleep? Is he dead? I crouch down by his head and check his pulse, one tentative hand on his neck. He's alive. Why is he asleep or unconscious or whatever he is?
My questions are answered however as green mist softly floats from the leaves and stems surrounding us and into his head. It is much kinder, less vindictive than the purple mist of the Fate. Somehow. I realize that while the plants I need might be right here, I have no idea how to identify them.
I open the door.
"Come out here, see this miracle." The people inside look up curiously. "Does anyone know how to identify herbs? Because these magic herbs are growing right in front of the door. And they've knocked out the Master, too."
They clearly only half-believe me, but slowly rise to their feet anyways, with Adoolen helping Aslesha up. And they're greeted by the cool moistness of the oasis of plants. Aslesha, Yenako and Adoolen laugh when they see the towerman passed out on his face.
"What happened to him?" Yenako asks, mirth sparking in their eyes and voice.
"I don't know. I think the plants are doing it," I reply.
"These herbs do seem to be magic," Onomayie starts, voice smooth and hushed, "and I didn't even believe in magic."
"It's good to beleive in magic." Yenako's eyes soften and I am happy for them. "Jira you know plants, right?"
"Yeah."
"Can we get what we need from here?" Adoolen asks, voice laced with threads of excitement.
"Yeah. Look for light green, almost yellow stalks. And long thin leaves in clumps of four."
The child is asleep now, rocked by her mother. I never did get her name. So I ask. And it's Onomaye. And it's so beautiful, just like her.
Even standing here makes me feel healthier, calmer, in both body and mind. These people seem to be alright. I suppose it's time for me to get back to my mission.
We part tender goodbyes and good lucks. And damn the air itself seems to glow with hope.
————
My bare feet are cold against the rocky landscape, uncomfortably so but not by much. I hope i can get somewhere warmer soon. The jaggedness of the rock also presses uncomfortably on my bare soles as I keep my head down to see where I am going. This is so much harder than it needs to be, the simple act of walking. But then again, so many things in life are harder than they need to be. Waking up after not enough sleeping. Sore, aching back muscles from working all day. Hunger, clawing and tearing at your stomach, your arms, everything. Tired joints. Frantic minds. The threat of failure sitting heavy on your shoulders. The frenzied movement from task to task to task. The way your mind and body fizzles to get things done until you aren't quite sure you are real anymore. The powerlessness. The worry for the people you love, for your fellow slaves, for your family, for your children, for the children. Rage at the unfairness of it all. Grief. Overwhelming grief that grows into unconquerable rage. Life for slaves is pure torture. Everything is meant to make life harder for the slaves. But when we have each other everything can't stop us from making each other's lives better.
I think about baby Onomaye, how sweet she was. I think about the literally magical circumstances that lead me to meet her, and her mother, and all the other adults in her life. How, why, did I meet them? I'm glad to have. Incredibly glad. It feels like destiny. A type of destiny that is so much better, more beautiful, than what the priests told us destiny was. It feels like victory. We ... and I still don't know how we did it, but we took down a towerman, we took down a master. And we stopped our work - we actually stopped doing work! - unprompted by any authority. And now they're making medicine to heal baby Onomaye. Wow. I can't beleive this. It's such a victory.
But in a way life is peppered with little victories, little instances of people helping each other, perhaps even against orders. Like when Alesha's friends were helping her with her work. The medicine network everyone is a part of being soothing, healing, and life-guarding to quite a few people who wouldn't have had it otherwise. A victory of sorts. Songs that are just a bit too rebellious for the masters, that we sing softly to each other or in our heads or in the safety of huts, barracks and basements, those are a victory. And we can and will make more victories out of hope and love and solidarity and magic. I just know it.
Jira reminds me a bit of my own mother. Kindness and a calmness that hides tempests and can soothe my tempests. The deep ache in my heart that I have for my mother, my father, my aunts and uncles and titis, my brothers and my friends, it never went away. Despite having new family. Though, my new family got taken away too.
I cry silent tears because here and now it's safe to, without fear of reprimand for myself or my loved ones. We don't even have the freedom to express ourselves.
Onomayie was glaring at her master when I first saw her. That takes both strength and rage, and I'm glad that she has that rage. I'm glad that so many of us have this rage because it's the type of rage that can maybe one day eventually overthrow the masters. Hopefully.
Hope. For forever I'd only been feeling the barest hints of it. But now, now it seems like a flood. Like a waterfall. Like more than that even. It is rising and it will break the dam.
I think about Yenako. The events they had just witnessed were incredible. But what was even more incredible was how hope sparked to life inside them, when it had previously not been there. Hope was something foreign to them, potentially. But they ... they were excited. I am so glad. I hope that one day every Dirtperson is as excited. Is as hopeful. Feels the walls break around them as much.
When will the walls break though? When will I be able to go out and hug my children?
The worry, the greif, the loss I feel at thinking about my kids is overwhelming, a flood that drowns not just myself but my world.
Levi does this adorable thing where he'll just go up to you and drape himself over you or curl up around your arms or legs. He is so cuddly. He is so soft-hearted. He is so affectionate. So confident that all of us love him. So confident that he is so very deeply loved by all of us in his little family. He loves being able to tell people he loves them. He loves being told that by other people. He loves all the soft, sweet moments when we are together. He lives for those moments. He keeps himself going for those moments. He won't have anyone to cuddle with. He'll have to hold all of himself inside until it corrodes his throat, his heart, his everything. I wish I could hug him, tell him that everything's going to be alright. But I can't. And everything's not going to be alright.
And Andronicha. Baby. She pretends to be so strong but she's not. She wants so very much to help all of us and take care of us but she's only a child. She's only a child. She's only a small, sweet child and she needs to be taken care of. We need to take care of her. Her stories are so beautiful, so imaginative, so full of magic and secret hope and hidden rebellion. So full of childish ridiculousness and softness. She can make the stars sing about little mice that band together to outmaneuver hungry cats, or birds that fly into the sun and are granted a piece of fire, hiding it in the crook of their wing, or any number of fantastical things. Andronicha who misses people she has known for minutes and definitely misses us dearly. We miss her dearly.
Pavlin is strong. But not really. Their strength is a childish, breaking sort of strength. It's a desperate sort of strength. Pavlin is a child. Pavlin is angry. They can direct their anger right where it needs to be, towards the towerpeople who deserve it. Unlike Andronicha Pavlin is able to hide their anger better under layers and layers of fake acceptance. And that is lucky. It will keep them safe. It will keep them from breaking too hard. But Pavlin is definitely breaking wherever they are. They need to be acknowledged. They need to be seen. They need to be listened to. They need someone to tell them that they love them, and to mean it. They need someone to tell them how smart they are, how clever they are. They need to feel safe enough to use that beautiful voice of theirs.
Mafalia has so many galaxies inside her, as they all do. I remember how in the rare instances where we're in the kitchen alone together she hides the leftover bits of meals, especially deserts, in a napkin to take back to the other children. It's usually just two or three bites per child but the towerpeople think that good food is only for their children and subverting that feels so good in its own way. She looks so sweet and innocent in front of the towerpeople. And she is incredibly sweet. Sweeter than the morning sunlight, sweeter than the first evening stars. But there's so much rebel inside of her, so much confidence that should by all means be snuffed out. But, now, away from her parents and siblings, maybe that rebellion and confidence is snuffed out.
But look at all these miracles sparking to life inside of us, around us. And I hope that word of it gets back to my kids, to all the kids who toil under the towerpeople. It's evidence that there are higher powers on our side. I hope the truth of what just happened gets passed through the generations.
I hope that dear, sweet Onimaye grows up with hope. She almost definitely will though. She'll grow up with the story of the events that happened around her. The events that happened for her. The magic, the miracles, the love. She'll live knowing that the universe loves her, that something bigger than the masters, bigger than even the Fates, it loves her and so do we. I cannot think of a better gift for a growing child.
I hope she grows into a soul who is strong and confident and knows her worth. I hope she grows into a soul who knows that she is incredibly, deeply loved. I hope she can stay with her family. I hope she can stay with all her loved ones. I hope she never knows the pain of losing her people. I hope, more than anything else in the world, that she can grow up in a better world. That we can create a better world. A world where everything she is and every part of her mind, heart, body, and spirit can be free, equal, and joyous.
My feet are aching, tingling, almost numb now. And I really hope that I get somewhere, find one of my friends, something. Something that would send me in the direction of warmer ground. This cold, it isn't even cold. It isn't even really cold at all. It's ... aggressive and hungry, is the best way for me to describe it.
I trudge over the rocks until I see new flickering. This time I see the image is one of dulled blackness, with the faint light of torches outlining the dark lines of rock walls. It seems to be some sort of cave. I can see the faint outline of a figure sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall like it's a bed. Not that I've ever been in a bed. Beside her there's a figure chipping at the rock with a pickaxe, caught up in the drudgery of the manual labour he's doing but ... there's this sense of energy, a sense of purpose to his movements that's bright and cold like sunlight on snow. Of course, there's the sense of pain, of racing aches arching through you like a lightening bolt. But that in't the only thing at work here. And I wonder why.
I recognize something subtle about the way he moves. Is it? ... yes, it is. It's Anderei. I wonder what he's doing. Why. I feel a strange sense of hope about life. We're finding power we never knew existed. So much exists that's beyond the realm of what we thought existed. Power exists within ourselves. It doesn't make life hurt less. But it's strength and hopefully it's enough strength to get through this darkness. I lift my aching, flayed-feeling feet off of the dead rocks around me and into the shadow-soaked, equally dead rocks that flicker in and out of existence. Suddenly the world around me goes so much darker. I close my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When I open them again, the person leaning against the wall, she doesn't look to be more than twelve years old, is looking at me. Her entire face, which glows softly in the shadows, is laced with pain, with fear, with dejection. But also with a sort of calmness, a sort of warmness, a sort of hope. But it's quite clear that she isn't alright.
Anderei turns around to look at me for a second, flashing me a somewhat strained smile before turning back to continue digging away at the rock.
I crouch down to sit with the young girl, my feet grateful of the rest they're receiving.
"Are you okay?" I ask her.
"I ... my stomach really hurts. So much. I don't know why. Anderei here offered to do my work for me. I appreciate it." Aww thanks Anderei. Yeah towerpeople are notorious for forcing us to work even when we are sick. To work until we collapse and physically are not able to anymore. It does not surprise me at all that this girl has been pushing through crippling pain to keep working. It doesn't surprise me but it kills me all the same. But more importantly, why is she sick? I hope she isn't dying or anything. At least part of me does. What can we do?
.... Oh the herbs! The herbs that we used to heal baby Onomaye should still be growing. I can go gather them but at the same time I have no idea what we need.
I kneel down beside her. Gently brush a hand over her forehead. It is warm. Too warm. Fuck.
"I can get you some herbs. Do you know what you need though?" I ask softly, voice laced with pain but also with maternal protectiveness. Motherhood. I wish I could protect my children and this child who of course is also mine and all the children of our people. The girl, whose name I don't know, leans into my touch ever so slightly. I smile a heartbroken, tear streaked smile. We are all on the same boat. All slaves. All Dirtpeople. All people. All our children are each other's children and everyone else's children are our own. And yet we can't shield any of them from the cruelty of the world. But we can hold on together. Until better days.
"I..." she starts, "my sister, when she was here, got like this sometimes. We would get these herbs from some slaves on the outside. They were ... I don't quite remember. But I'll know if I see it. I think."
Oh. Fuck. I can't really make her walk in this state. At least I'd really rather not. Can she even traverse between the dimensions as we are able to do? I don't know. But at the same time it's the best shot we have.
"Hey. I'm going to go and get some herbs. But if you could come with me that would be good, so we know what to get. It's a bit of a long walk, do you think you can make it?" Shes looks at me with wide eyes. Bracing herself against the inevitable, as she hardens her resolve. She's so young. Oh gosh this girl is so young. Too young to be here. But I guess we all are.
"Anderei, we'll be back in maybe an hour."
He turns around for a second, already tired from chipping rock for who knows how long. His face is etched with exhaustion. It's also etched with concern and kindness.
"Don't be too long."
I help the girl get up to her feet. I can tell that she's in so much pain. She is leaning on me for support, and her lithe frame is not as difficult to bear as it should be.
We come upon the place where the Fateworld melted with the normal world before, only to find it an empty darkness of stretching wall. I panick for a moment, banging my hands against the side of the wall, before deciding to continue onwards for the sake of hope if nothing else.
Suddenly everything around me is a soft glowing green. Not the eerie, stuffy green of the Fateworld but rather a natural soft green, tinted gray and soft yellow, that reminds me of the trees at the edge of the river by the sugar fields where my mother was.
The girl gasps softly, and then lowers herself down to the ground. "So soft," she whispers, lying down against the plants, on a spot of mostly tiny shoots. She closes her eyes and smiles for a moment.
"Anderei, come see this!" I exclaim softly. In a few moments the man arrives. He also gasps. Astounded. Delighted. I've only heard him sound like this a few other times, all of them involving our children. I'll leave him here. He needs... whatever this is ... just as much as she does.
"I'll finish with the mining," I tell him, and head towards the far end of the tunnel.
I pick up the hammer and the pick and start working away at it. In a matter of moments I am exhausted. In my bones, in my muscles, in my chest and my head and my soul. I push myself through it though, mentally screaming. I have to keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going. And no matter how much it strains me I have to keep going. Keep focused. Feed the beast of work with my own blood. This is a pattern I am familiar with. A pattern my life is forcibly built around. A pattern I only now have hope of escaping. Not escaping myself, mind you. But escaping all the same.
The thought of escape soothes me, just a little bit. What else soothes me is the thought that the child is getting the help she needs.
The stone under me is hard and cold and my arms burn and ache and strain. Everything is a mess of pain, physical, mental and emotional. It is repetitive work and that is the worst type. Rock and rock and rock. I'm only getting a moment of what the child must go through for hours on end each day though. Her whole world is crushed under rock.
I wonder if Mafalia or Pavlin or Andronicha or Levi are in a place like this. If they are, they'll at least have some kind adults to take care of them. It would be hell. But it would be better than being placed inside a house. I doubt they're getting that luxury though. House slaves already trained in silence and submissiveness sell for more.
Fuck.
Keep working.
A while passes before Anderei's voice cuts in.
"Hey, Nancee! I don't know what happened but the masters are all asleep! Irisitti, the young girl, she is too. She feels quite a bit better, the herbs we prepared really helped soothe whatever was ailing her. We found a little spring in the ground that we used to wash the ingredients and we mixed them in a food bowl. And we even found some roots and berries for her to eat. Hopefully she'll be better soon. I had hoped we could say goodbye but I think it's best not to wake her up. Wanna leave?" Hope, excitement, amazement, and joy is threaded through Anderei's voice. He's talking more than he ever normally does.
I smile at him. Surer than I ever normally am. We join hands and walk towards the green. There we see Irisitti, sleeping calmly on her side on the blanket of green, leaves overtop of her like a blanket, face soft and content. It's so beautiful I almost cry. We bend down to kneel by her side. I pray, but I have no idea who I pray to.
/Please please bless this girl/ I speak softly, head bent in reverence, /please bless this human child. May she know rest. May she know freedom. May she know respect. May she know love. May she know power. May she know safety. May she know comfort. May she know kindness. May she know health. May she know friendship. May she know laughter. May she know guidance. May she know understanding. May she know happiness. Please./ I pause.
/All hail./ Anderei states solemnly, sincerely. Almost as if we're in church. But unlike church, his words are full of healing and not devastation. I bend down to kiss her temple. Anderei does the same. We whisper goodbye to her. And we walk back into the dreariness of the Fateworld.
We talk softly under the strangely electric, overcast sky. He can't believe what just happened. I cannot either. It was a miracle. It was beyond a miracle. Anderei talks of how for the first time in his life he has hope. So do I. We've both spent our lives believing our people were powerless. But here we are. We outsmarted a Fate. We defeated a freaking god. We openly cursed out our master. The golden child who grew up with everything that we were denied. I tell him about the family whose baby they were able to heal. I tell him about the magical medicinal herbs that manifested themselves in front of the door, that knocked a fucking towerperson out on our behalf. He smiles brightly at this. We both smile.
But we also cry. We cry to each other. Loss still haunts us. Too much was still taken from us. We wonder to each other where our kids are. He hopes they're somewhere where they can see the sunlight from time to time. I hope they're not alone, wherever they are, not like I was during those first hellish years.
We cry for a long time that seems to stretch out uncountable and it feels so incredibly good and so incredibly healing to get the tears out. We cry for the first time in a long time. It helps. But it doesn't change the fact that we're grieving.
How are we able to cry now, after years of gulping down our grief and tears, of choking on them? Maybe because we finally feel safe enough to. We're winning, somehow. The universe is on our side. Somehow.
That doesn't mean that there aren't twisted forces at work though. That doesn't mean that the corrupt forces aren't still at work, aren't still winning.
"The howling Fate," Anderei starts, "the Fate who was there when we first saw Aslesha’s baby getting taken away, he was with Irissitti too. A mine overseer was yelling at her for not working fast enough, when I first saw her. She looked like she wanted to cry but of course she didn't. She was begging him to let her rest, that she was hurting so much and she needed to rest and she just couldn't go on. He didn't care. The Fate was standing behind him, though Irisitti couldn't see. It was sending these streaks of smoke, like, poison smoke into him. Almost puppeting him."
"Do you think the Fate was fuelling his rage? His cruelty?"
"Yeah I think so. Or causing it or maybe feeding off of it or maybe all these things."
"How are we going to defeat this Howling Fate?"
"We'll find a way. We will."
Suddenly we see flickering. Fire lit stone walls flicker in and out of the overcast background.
"Should we go to check?" Anderei asks.
"Yeah."
We come upon a small room, clearly a forge. There are four people inside. Two women, a man, and a small child. The child is a child like Pavlin (judging by their medium-length hair) who has very dark, almost night-black skin and eyes full of sadness. They sit on the stone floor, their palms open on their lap. Dear Universe, they are badly burned. This is not okay.
I rushed in, knowing the drill by now, and kneel beside the surprised-looking kid.
"Hi. Don't worry please. I'm like you I've been stolen by the towerpeople. My name is Nancee. I can help you."
"Nancee?!" Katapata's voice cuts in, its quietness not hiding its surprise at all.
"Kata!?" I look up, and she's there standing by the forge, along with a curious-eyed, dark-skinned woman and a man with skin the colour of cinnamon and raven black hair.
"Hi." I'm as awestruck by all of them as they are by me. It's really awkward, but all six of us end up sitting on the floor together. We exhange names and greetings as quickly as we can. The child is named Neyadim, their mother is named Alurissa, and the man, a soul-brother, is named Azer. Anderei and I tell them that we've seen miracles, been part of miracles, and that we were sure somewhere just around the corner there are healing plants.
"I know how to prepare anything. My mother taught me. Back when I still was with her." Katapa's voice goes from cautiously spring-filled to loss-filled within a single sentence. We all miss the adults that loved us. A now our own children would too. I feel anger within me that is hotter than the forge that rages around us.
"These burns are pretty bad," my wife continues, ducking her head to be eye-level with the little child, "but I know what we need to heal them. Can you come with us?" There's kindness in her bone-weary voice.
"Sure." Their voice sounds so small but also sure. I can tell that they trust us. We get up and walk out of the door, whispering words of encouragement to little Neyadim.
Everyone except Anderei and I gasp when we come upon the field of plants of all types that rolls across the alley, which had not been there at all previously. Anderei smiles in a way that is triumphant, a bit mischievous, a bit broken despite it all, and a bit calm. I soak in how much we're all revelling. Katapa, Universe bless her, wastes no time in foraging around, picking leaves and bark and root off of plants she hasn't seen alive in over a decade. The rest of us sit down. Anderei and Azer are helping Katapa gather the necessary plants, while Alurissa and I focus on keeping Neyadim as happy as possible.
"I'm very happy to meet you. It's so sad that you're hurting. You deserve to not be."
"Thanks." They smile. And though the corners of their eyes are marked by pain, it's genuine. I know what fake smiling looks like.
"I really hope you get better soon." I offer them a sad smile.
"Me too baby," Alurissa adds.
"Do you want me to stay here or get some herbs?" My voice is sweet, kind to the little one.
"Stay. I want to know where you came from."
"Okay sweetie. Can your mom get the herbs?"
"Sure."
"That sounds like a good idea baby." Alurissa smiles sadly at her child. "I'll be a few steps away if you need me."
"Katapa already told me you guys are on a mission to defeat the Fates." The young one smiles. There's a sparkle in their eyes. Awe and empowerment and mischief all rolled into one, with sprinkles of who knows what added in as well. "She said you took down the Fate of Pride with love and self confidence." They look down to their own self and smile. I hope they learned from these events that their confidence in themself and their people, and their peoples' confidence in them and each other, is more powerful than how much the towerpeople look down on them.
"I'm glad you know. Wish us luck."
"I will. I know that you're doing this for your children, and all the other children too. When the Fates are destroyed, I'm sure you'll be reunited with them."
I start crying.
"I love you. I hope you never are seperated from your family." That's all I can say. We cry together.
"What happened next?" They eventually ask me.
"We made it to this place with jagged rocks..."
After I tell them the rest of the events, they smile.
"I suppose it's magic. But healing is always magic. So it's not too different." Their voice holds more wisdom than their small body suggests they can hold. Yet it's all there.
"Oh?"
"There's so much hurt everywhere. But we manage to find ways to help each other. To love each other. The masters don't care about us. They don't care if we're hurt. They bring us pain. But we rebel." They're so excited now. Almost flowing with a sort of energy that you only see occasionally. "We help each other. We all work together to heal each other. We make it so that other slaves have less pain. And we win. The masters don't want us to be communicating with slaves from other households or companies. But we do it anyways. We're sneaky and we do it. We give each other information about who is sick and how. We give each other information about where our loved ones have been sold to. We give each other whatever information helps. They want us to not be able to organize ourselves but we are."
"You're acutely right. You know a lot of things. You have a very good mind. And a good heart. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. And continue keeping your wits about you." I ruffle their hair fondly. I can tell that they're tired. Tired and in pain. Poor sweetheart. But they're excited. That's good.
"They don't want us to be going out getting plants or preparing concoctions instead of working. But we do it anyways. We do it and we hide it from them and they mostly don't find out. They don't want us to feel better. To not hurt anymore. But we help each other feel better and we do. It's a victory. It's so much victory. And it's magic."
"You're absolutely right. You know, I've never thought about it that way. You have a very hopeful way of looking at the world, and you're absolutely right about these observations that you're making. I wonder, what else is magic?"
"Love. The way my parents or uncles or aunt looks at me. I mean they're not really my uncles and aunts, but they still are anyways. And that's magic. The way they look at Yozzie, Finn, Jemnie and Kalla. The way we all miss the dead. The way we welcomed Aunt Amee and Uncle Nico when they were ... when they arrived. The way we hope those who have been sold away have loving people in their lives. The sheer hope and terror we have for everyone everywhere who has to live like this." As they speak, their spirits are crescendoing. Their inner spark is slowly kindling into a fire. And all it took was this amazing sense of bravery. This... courage, to take what they feel and give it words, give it presence.
"We love each other. We always have. That's just the truth." Wow I can't believe I'm being so frank, talking openly about actually and directly overthrowing the towerpeople and their gods. "But is that enough to be magic? Is it enough to overpower them?"
"We're always overpowering them. We always have been. For so long now. They don't want us to have good things. Anything better than them. But we love each other. We soothe each other. We help each other. And that is so much. And their cruelty has an end. Their cruelty ends. For every bit that they don't care, we care ten times extra. And it will be enough to bring them down. And it will be enough to stop them forever."
"Damn my sweet Neyadim. You're like ... wow. Tell everyone you can about this. They need to know. You're absolutely right. The towerpeople are going down. Because we have each other."
"I've never said this before."
"But you have thought it, haven't you? In the middle of your rage. Late at night before you fall asleep. When they've almost broken your spirit but not quite. Never quite. Your ideas were forged from truth and love and experience."
"Everybody thinks this but is to scared to say it. Or they want to think it but are too scared to."
"If they hear you say it they won't be scared."
"I know."
"Hi baby. We've got you some salve." Katapa's voice, like the soothing blue morning, cuts into our conversation. "Just pour this on your hands." She points at a large bowl of blue-green mush in her hands.
"Or here, dip your hands into this."
Neyadim does so, and all six of us sit together for a moment.
"It was wonderful to meet you all." Alurissa's smile is bright.
"Same." We look at each other and I'm honestly lost in the moment. All of us are real. We exist. And we always have. And we've always been who we are. There is nothing that can change that. We're strong despite everything. We're unified, together, despite everything. We take away some of each other's pain, despite everything. We give each other joy, despite everything. Damn we exist. After everything we are. We are. And that's the magic flowing through us. And this is the power it has.
We talk for a few minutes. But then the three of us have to go. We would love to stay. We'd love to stay with Neyadim's family and Onomaye's family and Irissiti's family but we can't. We don't know how much time we have left before any of the Fates find us out or catch up to us.
We hug each other goodbye and walked back into the other dimension.
And then we walk.
We're walking on our bare feet talking about everything that happened, everyone we met. Everything we learned. The Fates seem to be a powerful force. We were a powerful force as well.
Our feet ache as we keep trudging on. This isn't a particularly new physical sensation but it is terribly annoying nonetheless. In the new world we create nobody will have aching feet.
Suddenly there is new flickering in front of us. And there is growling. Fierce. Ferocious. Completely unnatural. There's screaming. No, yelling. And too, it sounds terrifying. We duck behind a large stone, crouching down against it. Katapa lifts her head up silently and spies a glance at whatever's going on.
"It's Lilith, and a towerperson, and a little boy and a little girl, and a Fate." She softly gasps before continuing. "They're all yelling at each other, except the Fate who seems to be puppetting the towerperson.
It's growling like an actual monster."
"I'm going to go help her!" Anderei's voice is soft yet stronger than metal as he rises from behind the stone and pulls himself over it.
I get up to join him, and see for myself what's going on. In the flickering physical world, a small boy with dark skin and light brown hair cries. But he stares at the towerwoman in front of him with eyes full of rage and defiance and hatred. And he is arguing. I have no idea how this happened but that child will be dead soon. A slightly older girl with dark hair and large brown eyes is also arguing, raging at the towerwoman like nobody's business. How she hasn't punished them yet in some form or another is beyond me. But perhaps it has something to do with Lilith. She is staring the other woman down with fire and ice in her eyes, with molten rage pooling over her cheekbones and red-blood-anger twisting through her mouth. She looks like defiance and terror. They all do, each one of the Earthpeople. But Lilith probably walked out of nowhere like an otherworldly creature. She probably bluffed about having who knows what powers and the woman is afraid of her. I rush to help her with her bluff. Multiple people appearing out of nowhere would surely make her freeze with terror. But what after that? We need to find the plants. Lull her to sleep. And maybe we'll bring the children with us and then we're home free. Kata looks at me briefly, as Anderei joins the fray.
"Can you make something to make the bitch fall asleep?" I ask.
"Yeah. Distract her and I'll knock her out."
We go.
It feels so incredibly good to do this thing that I've been hoping to do forever.
I step into the flickering, steps confident, despite the fact that I don't actually feel confident. I step past an oblivious Fate. I smile. I step in front of the towerwoman in all her fine fabric and jewelled wrists. Her eyes go wide. In both alarm and enragement, and fear. I stand tall in front of her. All five of us do. Lilith and her husband and the two children whose names I have yet to learn. I've never done something like this before.
"What's going on here?" I demand, voice clear as I take the small girl's hand in my own.
"Where are you devils coming from?!" The rich woman exclaims incredulously.
"A place you can never go to." Lilith says in a quiet, sure, defiant voice.
"Traitorous filth! I absolutely can and will have you executed!!! I do not know what demonic forces have possessed you to speak in such false tongues against those who protect and benefit your people!"
The little girl is hugging my side tightly now, sand I hug her back. The boy is being carried by Anderei. He's that small. Lilith has her arms around our shoulders.
"Saved us? SAVED US?! You and your people are all snobbish, stuck-up, hateful, supremacist, pathetic, egotistical -“
"Know your fucking place, you maggot!" She interrupts Lilith. She's obviously losing all her composure. Towerpeople are usually very controlled even in their cruelty.
"She's right!" Anderei cries out, looking her dead in the eyes. "Your people have always hated out people!"
"Maybe if your people hadn't been so filthy and disgusting and dumb -"
"YOU are disgusting!" I exclaim.
"Our people have done nothing to deserve this." Go off Lilith! "We've done nothing to deserve you guys fucking enslaving us and ripping apart our families and forcing us to work and giving us nothing and -"
"We have provided for and protected you scum, much more than we should-"
"Really? Everything you fucking have is because of our goddamn labour. You made us work ourselves to death you mean. And your people straight up murdered many of us too. Bitch."
"Why I never! How the fuck would you know anything at all you uneducated piece of scum!!! You do not know the fucking sacrifices-"
"YOU do not have any fucking common human decency or empathy." Go off Lilith!
"You are just making excuses to continue oppressing us. You are just making excuses to keep hurting us!" Anderei's voice is loud and clear. "You know in your soul that we're better than you! We're better than you'll ever be! And you are just trying to lie to yourself to justify your horrific sins. Well we see through it. We will always see through it. No matter what you say we won't buy into your bullshit. And in your heart of hearts I know you don't buy into it yourself. And if you do, then you're beyond pathetic."
"Yeah! And you don't get to hurt these children!" My voice is full of rage and protectiveness just like my heart.
"They are ungrateful! Just like you! They're ungrateful and I'm well within my rights to ..."
"Shut the fuck up! You separated them from their families, made them work, you never thought of them as equal to you, you hurt them, you broke their hearts, you stole their childhood, they have nothing to be fucking grateful for!" I'm seething.
"I give them food and shelter and ..."
"So fucking what?! They deserve so much more. You only did the bare minimum so that they could keep being your fucking slaves they don't owe you jack shit!" Lilith.
It feels so good to finally say all this.
"My wife's right. They deserve so much more! They deserve to be loved and listened to and told that they matter. They deserve to have an education, to be treated equally, to get advice and support, to have their ideas taken seriously, to be built up instead of broken down and I hope you fucking die."
"What would you know! Indigent filth! I shouldn't have to raise them like they're my own fucking children!"
"Then why did you take us away from our parents then!" The girl's voice is as clear as bells and as indignant as a charging antelope.
"Why I ... do you really think you deserve more?! This is how the world fucking works!"
"The world is stupid!" The young boy exclaims, his voice soft with youthfulness and welling with anger. "YOUR world is stupid! It should be gooder. I hate you! I hate you so much!"
"I will kill you." Her voice is icy cold and full of hatred. The boy whimpers.
"No the fuck you won't." Anderei’s voice is as strong as bones and as scalding as embers. Not afraid to hold back. Just like he should be. Just like he usually can't be. "Listen. My friends and I have completely destroyed multiple tower demons using forces you could never even imagine, could never even dream of. We have seen, caused and created things that you will not believe. We've fought gods and outsmarted demons. If you think you are any match for us you truly are fucking stupid."
She just stands aghast at this.
"You might want to let go of those two children you've got there." Lillith's voice is confident. She is always confident. Even when her voice is painted with carefully-schooled deference and meekness there is always that secret, knowing edge.
The towerwoman pales. Her white face gets even whiter as a her haughty posture shrinks down a bit. Her eyes harden but you can see a sense of powerlessness under her face.
"I don't think so." She reaches out to grab the children. Just then, there is a dirty-looking wad of cloth placed over her mouth by cinnamon-dark hands. Katapa's cinnamon-dark hands to be precise. At first surprise flares in her face but it is soon replaced with betrayal. She falls unceremoniously to the floor as the children mischievously smile.
"What are your names?" Katapa asks, sitting on her knees to be eye-level with the children.
"Losfia." The girl smiles in a sad, tired way, "And this is my brother Deyap."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Katapa. This is my wife Nancee and these are my friends Lilith and Anderei."
"Hi guys. You're very sweet." I pour as much love and sweetness and sorrow and protectiveness and hope into my voice as I possibly can.
"So much." Anderei's eyes sparkle sadly as he smiles as best as he can to the children, taking their hands in his.
"Thanks for killing her." Deyap's voice is small and warm and childhood-tinted.
"It was an honour. And a delight." Lilith kneels towards the children. Losfia walks towards her and gives her a hug, and soon Deyap joins in. They stay like that, desperately leaning into each other. The children start crying softly.
"What do y'all want to do now?" Kata asks, solemnly yet sweetly.
"We has a sister," Losfia starts though sobs, "She was a bunch older. She was about to be sold but she ran away, her and her baby. We were meant to go too but we couldn't. We know the way though. If we had supplies we could leave."
"You know the way?" I ask.
"Not the whole way. Just until the next stop. They can help us from there."
"I'll go with you," Lilith says softly. The three of us exchange nods and agree to accompany them. I don't know if it's rashness or what, but we're not going to let these kids go alone and scared. And we don't have to.
We raid the kitchen and pantry, and get the kids some fancy clothes from the closet of the local towerkid. They smile at this. They look dashing. Elegant. We use makeup to lighten their skin. We steal the keys from the towerlady and we slip the lock open. We walk out into the night.
———
We walk back into that accursed house, up the stairs, and back into the flickering. Whatever power we have, it's getting stronger. Power. Us. Us having power. We have power. This feels good. This feels hopeful. This feels incredible. We deserve power. We're the ones that deserve power. The only ones. Not them. They've had power and you see what they did with it.
The scenery around us shifts back into the bizarre fake green and poisonous gray. We move through it, forwards always forwards.
"It's amazing that there's this whole secret network to help people escape. I didn't even know that was possible. And it was hidden so well from the authorities. Amazing." Lilith smiles that warm, thoughtful smile of hers.
"Of course. They have to keep it hidden. We wouldn't want careless talk to get all the way back around to the towerbastards." Katapa's voice has an edge of broadly-directed anger. Anderei and Lilith melt closer to each other, walking side-by-side with their arms wrapped around each others' waists.
"That lady was so nice." I smile, thinking about the wizened Earth lady with streaks of silver in her hair, who smiled warmly and conspirationally as she welcomed the two children and hid them in a hole in her master's storehouse. She was risking so much by helping people escape. She was risking everything. But at the end of all days she was completely transforming the lives of countless people, as she sent them onto the next leg of their journey, through thick, wild forest green.
"Yes." Lilith smiles. Katapa's own hand is slightly chilled in my own. My feet are still aching. I feel invincible. We will get our kids back. We will get our kids back. We can do anything. We will get our kids back.
"The kids are free now," Anderei exclaimes. Yes. They're free now. Or, they will be soon. I've never heard anything so joyous. I've never known anything so joyous. Freedom. For our children. Not all of them unfortunately. But two, and that means two entire lives that are going to be filled with victory. Yes. /Yes./
Despite my aching feet, despite the pain I still feel, despite the misery, I also feel joy. The somber drearyness of the surroundings fades out of focus for a bit, in a fun, hazy sort of way.
Everything is cut off short by a powerful, aggressive, completely unnatural snarl. It breaks out across my senses, across every part of my mind, every part of my body, bringing tears to my eyes and a scream to my throat. I clutch Katapa tight to one side and Anderei tight to the other. Panic and terror jolts through me. But even more is the sense of pain. In my mind. In my body. In my heart. In every aspect of my being. It is overwhelming. It is nothing new. It is the reality of life as a slave. But why so suddenly? Why now? Why ...
"Guys! Hold on! I love you!" Katapa's voice cuts clear and desperate and just a bit broken through the twisting threads of pain.
"Where-" I start, but then I see it. Standing in front of us is that same creature from before, draped in furs, face twisting with hatred, anger, and stone-hard apathy.
I can feel the sheer rage it feels at seeing us. That makes sense. We've traversed boarders. Crossed lines. We aren't meant to be here. Yet here we are. And /oh/ he's going to hurt us for it.
But there is a sort of faintness about him, that wasn't there the first time we saw him. His sallow cheeks. His wide, hungering eyes. This isn't human hunger, which I remember being familiar with. It is something else. Everything about him still screams power. But he is wasting away. I look at Katapa and her steady, healing hands. I looked at Lilith and her motherly protectiveness. I looked at Anderei and his listening ear and his knowing, encouraging smile. And I know. I know why the Fate is wasting away.
I scream as a new jolt of pain rips through me. So much anger. So much pain. So much hatred, so much apathy. So much violence. I can't take it anymore. I don't know how I can take it any longer. I ... I can't.
It isn't just me. It isn't just my pain. It is my people. It is my children, born into the same house I lost my childhood in, made to endure unspeakable agony before being dragged off into the depths of hell itself. It is my parents, living and dying under the boot of the towerpeople. It is my siblings and friends having to not know what safety is, not know what comfort is, not know what human dignity is. It is the millions of people who live and die and toil and suffer and ache and cry themselves to sleep. It all compounds into each other, and I am lost in a sea of agony, with no light, no buoy, no hope.
The Fate snarls around me, visibly getting healthier. Cheeks grow round and plump. Skin grows shiny and reddened. Lips grow fat and pink. I can feel myself start to crumble.
"Nancee!" I turn around, and there I see Kata. She smiles a tear-filled, broken smile at me. I know this smile well. I saw it so much when we were young children, when she was a new worker in the household and a new person in my life. It was her trying to be brave, trying to hold on, against unbelievable odds. I smile at her back. More for her than for me. I remember the nights when sleeping would come difficult, when I would lie beside her and hold her hand. I remember the lullabies she'd sing, that I'd sing, that Anderei or Lilith would sing. They spoke of love and softness and hope we were afraid to voice. I remembered how our parents and aunts and uncles and titis - both biological and adopted - sang them to us, again and again, back when we were still with them. How they pressed them into our memories so that we always had a piece of them, a piece of our families, wherever we went. So that the memory of their lives could serve as some sort of comfort through the inevitable separation and pain. And it did, it did ease Kata's pain a bit. Enough that she could hold on. It did remind us that she was loved. It reminded all of us.
And that is the incredibleness of it all, isn't it? I think, drowning in pain and holding onto Katapa to get me through it, that this is the incrediblness of our people. We are completely powerless, and yet we still find ways to help each other, to comfort each other. Our power has been forcibly stripped from us, every part of our life has been cruelly wrest into their hands, and we still find ways to defy them. With our strength and courage and compassion and cleverness and /love/. We make things better for each other.
The medicine network, for example, is an extremely clever, sneaky way in which we all work together to provide for each other, to take back our power, to sooth each others' pains. We're brave, and we're selfless, and we're smart, and we're unified. And we get together to help even complete strangers through illness and injury and pain.
The way we chip in to help each other finish work when one of us just can't, is a way that we love each other and protect each other. It's already unbearably painful to have to struggle through inhuman work loads. So to take up more is ... is beyond what some people can handle. Yet Anderei, and then myself, were so immediately ready to help Irissitti finish the work she was forced to do. How Aslesha’s friends got together and helped her. How we made sure the masters wouldn't notice anything amiss.
There are the ways we help each other that are smaller. Kind words. Understanding smiles. Searching eyes. Hugs. Lullabies. Shoulders to cry on. Hands to hold. Barely-restrained anger directed at the towerpeople. Subtly subversive stories. Fingers running through hair. The list goes on. We have each other. We've always had each other.
The pain is receding a bit now. Whatever magic is fuelling our journey on is helping yet again. I don't feel the misery, the depression, the desperation that there was before. Well I do. But not nearly as much. I have two arms wrapped around either side of my waist and my arms are wrapped around each of the people on either side of me. My mind still fears. But my mind still hopes.
And I remember the new revelation I was just walking back from. Apparently a few people were able to organize themselves into a freedom network. How amazing. I didn't think it was possible. But it exists. This is a thing that exists. And somewhere in the wilderness, there are Earth people who live ... without the yoke of the tower bastards. And ... and we did it. Together. We worked together. People risked their lives. Their health. They defied their masters. And they walked out, sometimes, with their freedom and a bunch of their masters' cash.
It warms me up from the inside. A glow of hope. To think that those kids are free - free! - somewhere far away from the towerpeople, somewhere where the towerpeople won't be able to get them.
The Fate snarls and screams. But there is something weak about it. Something in pain. A wounded beast backed into a corner that is bearing its teeth for the last time. We see how its eyes are becoming sunken and how his skin is becoming sallow. Then there comes a wind. A soft, secret wind that murmurs like whispers in the nighttime. It smells like the grass does after rain. Soon as the wind blows, little tiny herbs begin to grow around the Fate. He howls in pain and rage. This pain and rage is born of wrath and malice but it is pain and rage all the same, an emotion I'm all too familiar with. He angrily stalks closer to us but finds that he cannot escape the patch of herbs. He roars and screams and then his nails grow into sharp, jagged claws. They would be incredibly painful to have a brush-in with. He claws at the herbs, upending them and the ground beneath them. He leaves bits of dirt, roots, stems and leaves upended and strewn across the ground. But every time new herbs grow to quickly fill the uncovered dirt. We watched him dig himself into a hole. This looks like our chance for escape.
Because the power of our love - the slaves' love and solidarity we have for each other - is overpowering his wrath. The love that grows in the midst of unbelievable, unendurable agony and suffering of every type possible is the strongest love. And agony and suffering are the best kindling for the burning blaze that is love. Well equality and community are too but those things have been ripped from us and pain can also be kindling. It makes the fire more aggressive.
"Should we run?" I ask.
"Now is the best time," Anderei's tired yet awestruck voice answers.
"Quietly. So he doesn't notice," Lilith whispers, disbelieving.
Katapa smiles. We stalk out of there. When we're a good distance away, bodies hidden by rocks, we start running as fast as we can. Until our legs are sore, our feet hurt, and our lungs burn.
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