For there she lay, face down, turning away from the hideous, eternally inaccessible light of hope shining from above. 

... Remarkable cosmetic procedures, you know. Quite effective. 

Nothing is scary or unnerving. The frost is an excellent painkiller. Her life is over. 

The body moves, breathes and fusses, but there is a grave cold and stillness inside it. Everyone's gone. To a better place. Empty body, empty mind. No more bold ideas. No more tries. It has not led to good results.

What's left will perform tasks and do what is necessary, but no more. 

So Ami has escaped. Mentally. 

'Wake her up when it's over'.

This breakdown came after her failed attempt to get a job in Prime. 

Was it her fault? Yes and no. If she had witchcraft skills, things could be different, she could be a student or a service woman in any witch city she likes. 

She wouldn't even have to escape her hometown. She would have simply been thrown out of here by her neighbours and relatives. And they would even give us some food for the journey. Exile would at least be an unequivocal, direct and explicit rejection. No half measures, no manipulations.

They just go. There’s not that awkward case when nobody’s interested in your presence, but nobody wants you to leave. Your relatives and homeland suddenly desperately need you. You might be useful in different weird ways. To look better against your background at least.

Since time immemorial, all Kantinians with witchcraft gifts have been banished. 

“Don’t expect any good from a witch,” they said.

Well. Ami would expect. She was jealous of the exiled witches. 

It could be like an endless party. You were kicked outside the Kantine and there’s no choice - stay in the familiar warmth of your swamp or get out - but one - where to go next. 

Most chose obvious Prime to develop their skills and find a new place in their suddenly broadened horizons.

Exiled ones became the very witches, whose services proud Kantinians used in critical cases, forgetting about their dislikes and beliefs, their ‘unshakable’ traditions that were the bedrock of family and society.

Yeah. Comfort is much more important. 

Ami could be one of the fortunate few… no, she couldn’t. Don’t believe the ones who tell you you can do everything. No you can’t.

Because life is life and everything’s not that optimistic and joyful as it first seemed, that’s what you learn when you grow up. 

Without work, there is nothing to do in any big city. If you do not benefit the place and its inhabitants, no one will register you as a citizen or give you temporary accommodation. 

Parasites are not welcomed anywhere. And as an ignoramus, you will soon find yourself back in the Kantine, again and again, and there is enough work for everyone, plenty of agrarian jobs in one of the largest city-states. 

(and the most boring. According to Ami). 

Of course, there are other options... Zeth, Lim and... just a deep Forest. Here, without human society as the main source of constant stress, everything gets easier.

The outcast feels kind of loved and supported here. Finally. Don’t know why, but it’s fine not knowing, it’s just fine here.

All these jumps, antics and attempts to escape or settle down somewhere else now look simply ridiculous. It’s good to be here. Sociophobic Amelia had troubles with people. And people are in every city. And so the problems are. 

It won't magically get better anywhere except in the forest, of course. She knew it somewhere deep inside. Everything will be the same in Omill and everywhere else. 

She will bring herself and her depression everywhere. It will never be easier anywhere she goes.

New attempts to catch on and adapt, new awkward situations that contribute to uniformly covering oneself with shame from head to toe. Not as plentiful as on the first visits... but still in a fairly thick layer. 

There’s no magic land and no perfect people. She will always be just a rejected weirdo everywhere. For everyone. Because it is how it is. 

That’s why the main skill is to choose yourself, no matter what. Be the closest to yourself, because there is no one closer.

At least this thing is under control. So. One can come to terms with all this. 

At least she has a home. At least she has a job. At least she's an adult and can already argue a lot. And if she tries (to bite her tongue sometimes basically), she could even be finally accepted by family and neighbours.  

And this seems to suit everyone. Her relatives have the workforce, and Ami has some stability. And she’s not disgracing herself more than usual here. It happens in old familiar ways.

So be it. She is still a Kantinian and values ​​comfort and safety too. More than any abstract things.

Is this adulthood? Hmm. A frightening prospect, if you look at the local adults, faded from hard work and monotonous life.

That’s why this damned medium-urgent appointment to Omill looks double tempting, even if it contradicts a previously made “mature” decision... 

What did she feel when the opportunity she was looking for came to her and poked her into her hands? 

Grief. The most real grief. Intense bitterness and all-consuming resentment. 

And now, more than anything else, she would like to throw this unsolicited handout from fate back into her maliciously laughing face. 

“Take it and choke. Why even bother?! Why now?! I accepted my way and my life. I’m weak and tired. And desireless. There’s no joy or passion in it anymore... It's pure mockery.” 

But… Don’t be so bitter. Maybe we shouldn’t. It’s a… small mockery, you know. Just for half a large cycle… 

…That’s enough to make gnats laugh!..

What can be accomplished in half a cycle?! 

“Ah… really. What? Well… for example... 

You could come back to admire the wonderful giant landmark mushrooms, lovingly grown in the city by witches, softly shimmering in different colours at sunset. 

Drink refreshing drinks with local water...“

Yesss… By the way, the difference is striking! Sacred water, revered even by elves we have never seen, gives to all omillian dishes and drinks a special, unique fresh and slightly sweet taste. You won't find anything like this anywhere, not joking. 

“That’s my point.”

... May it all fly away to bog with gnats and swampers, anyway... 

“Hold your gnats, Amelia. Do you remember that amazing huge lake?”

Of course she did. One can never forget such magnificence.

A huge pool of delicious life-giving water near the mountain. It inevitably made this city the capital of drinks and a place of pilgrimage for all those who tried once and became obsessed with Omill’s coffee. 

Of course, the famous Omill green and ground coloured coffee was delivered to all the cities of the Mainland... But it lost a huge share of its flavour bouquet and witchiness, being served not fresh, just picked, not with local water and not according to any old selva recipe. And, on her own behalf, Ami would add that without being drunk at a street table in one of the many coffee shops in Omill under a huge landmark mushroom decorated with coloured lanterns. And also without local sweets — pressed from wild nuts, cereals, and berries.

... And let it all fall into the swamps... 

“Ami? Can I talk to Ami, please?”

… Eat all the six-mouthed monsters… 

“I already got the point. Stop it. How about… admiring the dark-skinned, smiling, joyful and slightly arrogant selvas?”

They are good looking ones. And, as if this were not enough, they are great singers and dancers, weavers, coffee makers... all of them are witches. It’s not a reason to go there, it’s a reason for envy, actually.

The internal dialogue was displaced by Ami's memories.

These witch people didn’t live or come to Kantine often. The Kantinian still remembers how surprised and enchanted she was the first time seeing a living selva. It was rude to stare, but book pictures didn’t give any idea of ​​what the selvas were really like. It's... Like the difference between a map and a landscape. 

Well, ghouls are with this damned appointment. Let it be. 

Who is she trying to cheat? She will gladly get away from here again. Even being indifferent and powerless. Even if it's not for a long time. 

She will just go, just because. Whatever. Even for appearance's sake. Just go there and come back with a dejected look: “I didn’t succeed again. It is fine.” 

It’s not her coveted Prime, but at least it’s something. 

…Damn Mother Universe with her stupid manner of care, feeding us not with something “tasty” we want, but something that corresponds to her perverted ideas about “healthy”...

…but “it is fine” again.

So, as it seems, despite the violent internal protests and seething hatred, there were obviously many good reasons for going to Omill. 

What made Ami especially happy was that she would supposedly leave Kantine before the start of the Fertility Festival, hated to the point of gnashing teeth. 

She almost forgot about it. Then… It was worth a lot! 

It was even possible to simply go to Omill under this pretext and quickly come back here after that to continue to rot here. 

At least minus one time of stupid songs, forced fun, accelerated by ale, unfunny jokes and inappropriate and unpleasant signs of attention and literally sickening round dances! 

Good good. What could be better for the psyche than the absence of odes to one’s own unwanted fertility. This place already has enough of all types of fools.

“It’s not the city’s fault that you feel bad here. And not people. They get along well with each other. It’s like you’re something foreign here.” — she reminded herself. - “And not everything is black and white. This city has its own virtues. Here, in the Mainland's food capital, you can be sure of tasty, nutritious food in abundance, quiet sunsets, walks in the Forest and flowery streets.”

Alrighty, but in order to try to avoid one Fertility Fest, one could agree to almost anything. Now we have no doubts.

Yes, it's a big light for the locals. Many people look forward to it, and decorate their houses with bouquets of beautiful leaves and carved fruits, and prepare special foods and drinks. They get beautiful tablecloths and draperies, and dress themselves up too. Almost everyone here enjoys the lively jamboree, even people from neighbouring towns come to see it. Ami saw enough.

What kind of allergy is it? What's so terrible about it? Why was she clinging to it now, when it was just happening in her head? Why not just walk by indifferently if you're not really interested? Otherwise it means you're still "interested", you know, but in a perverted way. What is she resisting? Why?

No answers. But she can't deny her eagerness to stay away from these pleasures. And she's a great master of playing dead.

If something is systematically imposed on her, she will do her best to systematically avoid it.

Additional reason to escape the Fertility Festival is that those lights made their mother nervous too. And even more withdrawn. This was something they had in common, but it didn’t bring them together at all. 

Every big cycle Yvette simply locked herself in her room with a supply of food, tea, and… a hygiene bucket. And no amount of screams, threats, or persuasion from her relatives could lure her out of there. 

However, persuasion-threats-screams were another festive tradition, repeated from cycle to cycle, as stable as the very presence of a swamp Festival. 

No one planned to stop it. Everyone seemed to love this boggy theatre. 

Even the dialogues have not changed over time. Immortal recognized classic. And nobody ever got tired of this unfresh scenario. 

The mother was asked not to disgrace herself in front of her neighbours. She answered in a calm voice that she would not disgrace herself, since from here she would not be able to greatly harm everyone who congratulated her on her still fertile age and the ability to reproduce further. She only went out at night to empty the bucket and threatened to douse its contents on anyone who interfered with her self-isolation. 

Ami winced. 

Every cycle of her life she felt as if she had already been doused from this same bucket. Desire to quickly remove herself far far away from home and the glorious traditions, ancestral memory and great city became almost invincible again. To find herself as far as possible from the concentration of those toxic things that already killed her morale.

Far away from the comfort of home. From the family bonds. From the mother with this permanent verbal and non-verbal hygiene bucket. Great.

On the other hand Amelia couldn’t say she doesn’t understand mother’s behaviour. It was probably painful for the older failed tramp to see her mistakes and especially one read-headed ridiculous reflection. No matter how hard she tried to forget who she was before, she wasn’t successful. 

One can’t cheat one’s soul. She had to look. She had to look at all of them. Her past mistakes. Amelia was one of three. Mother made them systematically. For what’s sake? One never knows.

Maybe she believed that this would transform her from a fractious tramp into a respectable citizen. Maybe she wanted to be accepted in the house of her husband and in the city in general. But she didn’t succeed either.

And with new hope she switched to the desire to see her daughters become respectable plant growers and mistresses of the house and fields, she had never become herself. 

Quite a dysfunctional family. Though… not everyone here was a failure. 

Ami’s sisters were much more promising individuals. They fit well here. 

Aunt Tata took her part in raising strong in body and spirit peasant women and hard workers. 

For some reason this not-magic didn't work with Ami. A bad seed. You can't slap genes with a slipper, the mother should only be displeased with herself.

Can’t say Tata abandoned the attempts. Although nothing could be cut out of the grown-out part, persistent methodical attempts to tear it into shreds and sew it together in a new way were periodically renewed. 

That’s why Ami tried to show herself as little as possible. Not to catch the eye of her family became her main goal, and she reached it by disappearing at work, in the Archive or, if she was really lucky, on a business trip. 

And at her favourite secluded edge of the Forest, of course.

Under this delightful starry sky, among the trees and on the moss-smelling earth. Where one can stop to pretend “normal”, or try to hide away from everyone or to please someone if they got “caught”. 

Isn’t it a wonder... This is probably only possible in communication with nature. 

Everything is easier here. Just wander aimlessly and sing along with the voices in your head. The Forest will take you as you are, alive or dead, it doesn’t demand you to change, to “make an effort” and “stop being a bungler”, to behave, to be “as you should be” so that “it wouldn’t be ashamed in front of the sky” or something.