The next day dawns. The rain not once letting up on its relentless downpour. Because the sun is stubborn as it is bright, even the clouds can’t fully block out its light. Dull rays allow this gloomy morning to feel fresh despite the rolling clouds up high. And work still goes on, tribe members bustling here and there. Which includes just outside the medicine tent.

Just beyond the grassy green folds sat two elderly doctors, a woman and a man. Their arguments over this and that, how this could work but the other pointing out the faults then advertising their own, could be heard far outside the tent. Even the shattering of a glass and scoffs eluding to one's old age easily made it out.

But as if their ears were decoration, the passing by people act obliviously, going about their business with ease. Yet if you looked close enough, right alongside the temple, following down the brow, were subtle sweat drops, a forced frown hiding a smile, and their eyes flicking to the side then back forward.

Truly an amusing sight, the guards manning each side of the tent mused, trying their best not to laugh. For if they laughed, they feared the sleeping beasts not too far from them, right up in the trees hanging over top the tent. The Leopard to the right, the primate to the left.

Ah, what a bitter sweet circumstance these two have found themselves in. Loving it and hating it equally as much.

“Doctor Rasha, Doctor Termit.” A middle aged woman walks from around a partition made from four three meter tall leaves, and one meter in width. 

Her bouncy short locks dyed in the colors of autumn, curl up around her ear, becoming longer the further back they go. Her face, which should be quite beautiful, had a dark powder-like rash consuming the top half. It vaguely spread underneath her left eye and to her ear peeking out from her hair. Her name is Marvena.

Marvena adjusts a pair of bifocals as she checks over the patient log. “Four hours passed, Young Hong’s fever has not risen above the critical limit, but it's still not shown any signs of falling. Sir Ash stirred for but a moment but has nonetheless remained comatosed. The herbal plaster has fully set, and the broken bones have aligned properly. As for the venom, none of the scrolls show any match, not one even close. Shall I put in a request for the branch in the capital and the one out west?”

“Please do so.” Doctor Termit nods, grabbing both patient logs to peruse. He frowns, pulling out a bamboo pen to circle some areas while crossing others.

“Is there anything else dear?” Doctor Rasha inquires. Placing her hand to her knee, the other flips the wrist back and points out through the tent. “If you leave soon, you may have time to write a letter to your son in the capital and send it out with the request. Isn’t he working in some big manor as a guard? If my memory is correct, this should be most common guard's day off. Surely he’ll have time to pick it up with how fast our messenger birds are.” 

Marvena smiles, a soft blush rising to her cheeks, her eyes full of pride as she nods. But then swiftly she becomes serious, she lifts up the top most patient log to look at the one below it. With furrowed brows she asks, “Is it alright to release yesterday's patients? Only Sir Tiv was unfortunate enough to endure the brunt of the injuries and needs to sustain further bed rest, but the other five are energetic enough to tease and cause needless ruckus. I feel it's time to let them be on their way.”

Doctor Rasha waves her hand, “yes yes, let them go.” She raises her voice, “you hear that?” 

“”Yeah!!! Wooo!!!”” 

Following that call several men roar out in glee, causing Doctor Rasha to pick at her ears. “Ugh! Good. Now get out of her you ruffians, don’t make Marvena work around you when she has more important things to do then baby sit a bunch of grown children! Come on now, get!”

“Ugh,” she grumbles as the rowdy men kick up a cloud of dust on their way out. 

Doctor Termit sneezes. Dramatically flicking his wrist, he pushes the dust cloud from the tent. Then proceeds to sit straight, like a gentleman focusing on his work, pure and scholarly. But Doctor Rasha could even see it from a mile away, that playful smirk holding back a laugh. 

Watching this Doctor Rasha rolls her eyes, but inwardly thought, the old fool still has his uses, despite trying to act cool in his old age. Drat, the chances of him continuing this eye rolling attitude until someone compliments, is likely to last for a whole week. 

Trying to sneak off, Marvena still wanted to stay and finish up all the paperwork, but Doctor Rasha was not having it. She pushed out the stubborn mother of two, threatening her if she dared come back today, she’d force her into some much needed rest time that the woman refuses to take.

Reluctantly Marvena left, but once she exited the tent, a change in demeanor took place, and instead of a competent worker, a mother excited to write to her son skipped away in glee, humming to herself with the biggest of smiles.

Sighing and tapping away on the table, Doctor Rasha looks to the furthest area of the tent. “That little munchkin sure knows how to make one worry.” Picking up the patient log, she sighs once more, ruminating over each new and old injury.

Abrasions around the neck, arms, legs, and abdomen. Fractures in several ribs. Bruising over 80% of skin. Internal bleeding centered around the abdomen. A poorly healed break in the left arm. Scarring on the upper and lower back, bottoms of the feet, wrists and ankles, including pin-like marks on the palms and fingertips. A kidney infection. At least several weeks of malnourishment, if not more. And signs of swelling on the front and back of the head.

…

Solemn silence fills the air. Only the sounds of muffled footsteps outside and subtle breathing inside. Every now and then a drop or two of rain patters the top of the tent.

In the back past all partitions, was a soft sound of rushed breaths squeezed through gritted teeth. Hong Luo holds tight to her white blanket covering, her consciousness submerged in staggering dreams.

‘How far must I walk?’

Baffled and confused, she strides atop a lake of darkness submerging a forest of fireflies. Wispy will-o-wisps dance, tempting her forward. Small lights rise into the sky, entrancing her to stop and stare. The forest of birch trees strikingly white, almost glowing through the darkness, blinding enough to push her eyes down, to wipe and soothe the stinging—– pain?

‘It stung, didn’t it? Strange.’ She shook her head and pushed forward.

But every step felt weighted in lead. The collapsing pressure was squeezing her lungs too tight. The simple white gown pricking her with every small movement, the itch near unbearable to ignore. 

But when she went to scratch, before her nails touched skin, the itch would mysteriously stop. When she paused to rest, the exhaustion went up like smoke, dazing her, like a swift wipe to the dirt, erasing the sensation she swore she’d just been experiencing mere moments ago. How confusing and disorienting. 

Or was it?

‘How far must I walk?’ 

She pushed forward but a mere few steps, only to stop.

‘It stung, didn’t it? Strange. How strange. So very strange.’

What was wrong? 

Something was wrong! 

Something was very wrong but for the life of her she can’t place what it is. 

The panic eating away at her heart held no weight. She kept on going and continuing to move forward. Trapped in a vicious cycle set on repeat, mind numbingly pushing out the same words she hadn’t remembered speaking before. 

Coming to a stop, a dizzying spell has her turning in circles, disoriented, lost and confused, panicking and anxious.

‘How far… how far… how… far… must I walk?’

Panic rushes to her head like a punch connecting into her chin. That shock sent her tilting back, nearly falling over backwards. 

Grabbing for her head, her eyes shake, a hair rising fear crawls up her spine as the surroundings blur. The white birch trees swirl into a disorderly mess. Wil-o-wisps sped passed one by one. And trapped in her ear was an annoying buzz getting louder and louder.

“Master——–master, why did you leave?”

Like a sharp tug to her hair, her head jolts up, to swing back and forth in confused panic. “Rong’er?” With a look to the left, one to the right, a twirl around in place, she stood alone with just the birch as company.

“Rong’er?” She tries to yell out, but no response ever comes.

“Rong’er!” Then she screams, forcing her whole body to contort forward, leaning in on itself as her head falls forward, leaving those disoriented eyes to look right into the waters below.

Right below her a shadow rushed to the surface! 

“Ah!” With a heart piercing scream she falls to her rump, pushing herself back only to scream once again. “No no no! Stop!” 

Stop——– the horrific shriek echoes, while she curls into herself, rocking back and forth, muttering over and over. ‘The fault is mine, the blame is mine, the consequence is mine…. I don’t deserve forgiveness.’

An eerie light illuminates the cowering girl. Beneath her red fills the water, two pairs of limp hands float to the surface, the bodies coming closer and closer, until right when the faces nearly broke the water…

“Master——–” Within an instant it all vanishes with this one muffled word.

Mozen jolts her head up. “Rong’er.” Mindlessly she crawls repeating “Rong’er, Rong’er, Ronger”, pushing herself up to walk forward, down the sinking ridge, right into the deep dark waters.

Left behind Hong Luo remained curled in a ball, muttering, weeping, those faceless bodies reaching from the waters to grab on to her. Only darkness remains as she sinks with them… 

…whilst a pair of gray empty eyes watched all this unfold from the sky.

“Master!” Mozen snaps out of her trance and turns in time for a small body to ram into her. 

“Master look look look! I did it, I did it! I wove together wood and water essence and tied a perfect knot! Praise me, praise me!” 

She didn’t immediately respond because she was no longer underwater but in a fuzzy scenery. There was a small wooden house sweetly decorated in vines. A garden in the front yard, and in the far distance a bridge crossing over a babbling brook, 

Unconsciously she places her hand atop that raging red hair below her bustline. When her other hand reaches to embrace the small little girl, it becomes enveloped in a pair of tiny arms.

“Oh please, take all the credit will you,” scoffs another little girl who was coyingly clinging to Mozen. That head of shimmering sunlight attracted her eye, as well as a helpless smile.