I stand at the border between my old dominion and the world beyond, marked with a white scratch in the rockface. From here the hillocks slope into rocky terrain, till the forest springs up — black trees and red cherry leaves. A sea of red leaves and then the valley beyond— a road that spills into open fields, meadows past what the eye can see. Till the winter chill of the South slithers down your spine, one could pass through the paradise of the Old Road. 

I always used to gaze at those faraway meadows and wonder: what would it be like, running through them? Passing my hands along the tall grass? 

Breathing in the air of Summer. 

Taking a deep breathe, I take a step past the white mark. 

The three times I tried to do so during my enslavement, I was met with such immense pain that I could not move a single muscle — except to fling myself back into the barren dominion. 

Now, there is nothing. 

Just the silence of loneliness. 

I force myself to smile. Then, laugh. 

I expect myself to cry once more. It doesn’t come. So, I walk onwards, towards my new life and destiny. 

…

The amulets jingle in my sack as I enter the red cherry forest — its name I do not know. Even inside the canopy of leaves, it is beautiful. They swirl in the wind, breaking and fluttering like butterflies. There is a childish joy that enters my heart. I resist the urge to run around and chase the leaves, but when I come to the sobering realization that no one is around me, I go wild. 

I chase the wind, the sky, the air. I feel the touch of bark. I spot some deer and race them through the woods, going off road. I get lost. That makes me so happy. I used to know every single pebble of my old dominion. For once, I am deep in the unknown. 

I find my way back to the road after some time. The path darkens. I trek off and gather wood for a fire. My stomach rumbles and I realize, for once, I can scavenge for more than rock nuts and soot cake. 

The good thing about the immortality is that I don’t need much food. Just enough for my body to barely remain upright. 

The hunger still remains though. It always has. 

I just got used to it. 

Now, for the first time in seven years, I eat my fill. I stuff myself on tree nuts and berries. I do not know if they are poisonous, nor do I care. I am so happy, I could die right now, laying on a log with a slow fire crackling at my feat. 

I don’t dare to think about the elders or Hui Long or that giant she called Basilbane. 

Instead, I fall asleep in peace. 

… 

I wake up to the sound of thundering hooves. Rubbing my eyes, I try standing and stretching, but I stumble slightly. Chuckling, I realize it is the first time I have slept so deeply in a while. I think it is because of the full stomach, more than anything else. 

I take to the road and see a horse-drawn cart, upon where with a stack of hay and barley sits. They come from the East — perhaps from the Gorges of Adostra (my geography is understandably off). 

I stand in the middle of the road and observe them as they near. An older man sits in the front, holding the reins reigns to the carriage. He is white-skinned and thankfully, does not look of clan-make. Perhaps some villager or trader from the valley. Next to him sits a young girl, perhaps just barely a teenager. She wears an apron and has ruddy looking hair. 

When they spot me, the horses halt and the man gives me a strange look. With a sudden realization, I step out of their way and chuckle awkwardly. 

“Sorry, I’m in your way, aren’t I?” 

“Yah sure are,” he speaks, in the accent of a village farmer. Harder tones and blunt words. I do not mind. I much prefer this to prosy lies. 

Before the man is able to lift his reins and set the horses to moving again, the girl next to him whispers something softly in his ear. The man looks at me, looks at her, sighs, and nods his head towards me. 

“You need a ride?” Before I answer he cuts me off “It’ll cost you.” 

“Grandfather!” the girl chides. 

“What? I ain’t giving out rides for free. I’m not some royal dog.” 

“Where are you heading?” I ask him. 

He spits some phlegm, not out of spite or anything, but I suspect it is a habit. “South to Takemeadow Village.” 

I have no idea where that is, but South is fine. 

“I have no money,” I tell him honestly. 

“That’s too bad. Then —” 

“We could have him work it off for a day!” the girl exclaims. The man grunts, taking another look at me. 

“You look half-starved. Can you carry some hay?” he asks. 

I shrug. “Well enough.” 

He squints his eyes at me, as if checking for something. Then, he just sighs. “Hop in the back then. Try not to make a mess.” 

I bow slightly and haul myself into the cart. 

Huh. I actually just hitched a ride. It's like those story books I used to read. I chuckle to myself again.

“Why are you laughing?” the girl asks innocently. 

I look at her. She’s younger than I thought. “Because I’m a fool.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

The old man snaps the reins and the cart stumbles off down the road. I give the girl a wry smile. “It means I’m free.”