The Forest smelled wonderful and looked great. Maybe they must move to a Forest sometime. It has food and answers to almost everything. Perhaps they would do it in the end, because none of the other cities like her either.

Or they can travel to the Ocean! Some maps say there’s a real unimaginably huge Ocean on the other side of the Forest! Imagine! 

No, you can't. Boundless spaces are hard to imagine. You have to see it for yourself.

Great thing is to look for elves who rush around here on their unknown business also. Ami’s never seen them ever in her life, but would really like to… 

Well. Coming back to now. Still anxious. Why? 

My eternally alert anxious mind, pray tell me what else you have in store? Let’s pour it out.

“Alrighty… What if… someone else is sent to Omill instead of us?” 

Ha-ha. And ha. Who? There are no other weak-minded people in the area. 

Everyone has business in their houses and plots, fields, families. No one wants to mess with these “helpless, clueless, stupid” witches. Nobody wants to adapt to new people, new language, new circumstances, new everything, no one wants to look ridiculous, feel the lack of the usual and necessary and the abundance of the incomprehensible. It’s a daily basis just for us.

It works here and there because nobody bothers to tell us what's wrong, they need us to guess. So it's a daily occurrence that we say and do something weird. It's a daily basis of us suddenly becoming annoying troublemakers, even if we didn't mean it, and most of the time we didn't mean it, and having no clue what part of what you say or do is a trigger. A knowledge could at least be useful for analysis. 

But even asking and analysing didn’t help and just made things worse. It’s a strange world. But maybe it’s a cursed gift to be a stranger anywhere in it.

Maybe.

So… Although her candidacy had not yet been officially approved, it was clear from the faces of our colleagues that they were relieved that it almost happened. In this situation, Ami was the invincible Stella the Clayhand. With whom no one fights. What’s next?

“Suns will rise.”

Wait? Really? Aye.

The first night lights appeared above the edge of the forest. If you sit a little longer, you can see how shining stars float into the sky on trails with a haze between them. 

Perhaps it’s better this way… she doesn't want to come home. She’s barely managed to calm down. And too weak to repel the attacks of her nosy loving family. 

The fugitive didn’t want to listen again and again to the story about the complications with the roof repair due to her developed egoism and the lack of her not so skillful hands, la-di-da... If she is sent somewhere again, then most likely she wouldn’t return to the beginning of a new stage of (useless) construction and so on, and so on... 

One answer to all of this is diligent passive-aggressively shirking. What? What did they expect from a careless mistress?

She was perfectly happy with the look and size of the house and her room. Enlarging the house and expanding their family would be extremely undesirable for many reasons. This family is already big enough to be disastrously annoying. And the house itself was sound and only needed cosmetic repairs.

Also there are much more interesting things in this life than getting bogged down in unnecessary things. So, whoever requires it… let them do this useless work.

And Amelia will wait until everyone falls asleep. It's a good thing that Kantinians traditionally go to bed early, because the next morning most of them had a new light of work in the fields and gathering in the woods.

On the other hand, Ami's habits did not exempt her from getting up early for work with everyone else. May the ghouls in the swamps gnaw at those who devised this routine so deadly to the body. And it’s not the first time she has anxious insomnia. 

And not the last. She will survive anyway. Just like she did before. 

Until she wouldn't. Then she just wouldn't. Why try to fight the inevitable?

Next one.

“Our superiors decide that the witches have come up with yet another stupidity, and they shouldn't pay attention to this, nor to follow their lead… Or they will suddenly find out that there are not enough people here in the Department. And they desperately need this useless one. Or the Omillians will finally understand that working with an ignoramus is of no interest to them...”

Amelia didn’t answer, smirking vindictively at invisible Fate, demonstrating with her whole appearance that nothing would be able to disappoint her anymore. 

It was simply ineffective and pointless to panic and freak out when you were already at the very bottom of your life's expectations. 

Instead, you need to keep your mind and hands busy. By starting to pack things, for example. It feels like escaping, it's calming, and that's exactly what we need. Even if the authorities don’t plan us to move to Omill tomorrow. Anyway, it’s time to finally go home and have some sleep.

The servicewoman stood up abruptly and reluctantly walked towards her dwelling. All the moons were hidden by clouds, and it was difficult to see the path, but the road was so familiar to her that she could walk there with her eyes closed if she wanted. 

Literally. She tried. I only tripped a couple of times. She saw well in the dark. 

Although, of course... 

... The witch could now illuminate her way. Or stay away from these places. 

The Kantinian quickly reached the partly undesired destination and quietly slipped inside. Luckily, there was no one in the corridor. 

The tramp exhaled with relief. 

She hurried into her room, hastily closing the door behind her. 

The apathy that had become habitual in recent cycles was replaced by a weak but noticeable, somewhat malicious and gambling enthusiasm.

Let's gooo! Now we're talking.

Not hoping, not planning this time, just packing a bag full of our favourite things.

The unfortunate plant grower jumped to her feet a little energetically, glanced around the room eagerly and began to hum softly, unconsciously.

Interesting… She didn't make it anywhere out of the Forest for a long time. She doesn't sing in captivity.

Freedom seemed so close and almost tangible. But it was not the first time that she had been misled by her feelings and that her desires had been mistaken for reality. 

Amelia quickly shook off the darkest storm cloud of depression that was creeping back into her soul. 

Don't get distracted... What to take and what to leave? Hm.

…The dictionary is definitely going in the bag first. 

The avid bookworm picked up a large, tattered bundle of roughly stitched cloth. She turned it over respectfully, as if weighing it. 

It had once belonged to her mother. Back when, according to unconfirmed rumours, she was still a normal person and not a swamp ghoul who had replaced her later. It is not clear where she got the copy, but you will not find a better source of information in Kantine. In fact, it was priceless. Any similar literature stored in the local Archives was almost completely useless. It is difficult to say why this was the case and what dominated these works - the number of errors or irrelevant topics.

This rare, valuable copy will come in handy. Because no matter how much you learn a language, you will still fall into a stupor when you need to say something immediately. Mean words quickly flee the battlefield. 

And these ones are captured in the book. They have to serve and simply have no choice. And that's why they will always come to the rescue.

Come on, good old tattered fellow... it's not your fault that your ex is a grumpy fury. You are very useful and you will not bear collective responsibility. 

Alrighty then. Who's next?

Favourite shoes and clothes, of course. All travellers' first friends. They're comfortable and practical, even if they have holes in them and are sewn and glued over and over where possible. They're in. 

In our clothes bags. Which are also spacious and light, handy for any hike.

And an old, trusted, no less beloved blanket. It comes in handy anytime, anywhere. Even for sitting at rest stops. 

This and that, we don't take much… Don't think we'll stay long there.

But… have the feeling we're missing something important.

Food. We need food! 

The most important and enjoyable part of any event. This little journey is no exception. 

Rarely would any Kantinian disagree with it, and in at least one thing Ami agreed with her compatriots. An absolutely sincere love of food. 

So it was absolutely necessary to think about what hearty dried food she could steal from the family pantry. And put it in her omillian food bags. 

Food bags are critical. She hasn't learnt to wrap food and even drinks in big leaves like the graceful Selvas do. 

But it is fiiine. That is not the only thing she will never be able to compare with the Selvas.

Ami took from the drawer the beautiful embroidered bags she had brought from the last Omill trip. It seemed they still had the smell of small flatbreads and takeaway pies. But no. They could only contain the spirit of Omill's coffeehouses. 

Hmm... It's such a heartwarming memory... Especially in these dull Lands. 

What else? Water bags. Of course. 

Coffee-coffee-coffee... And our favourite shell cup, made from the shell of a local nut. 

Did we leave our cup at work? Oh no… Let's not forget it tomorrow. We need to make a mark on our hand... 

No, we don't! Luckily it's here. On a table, behind the usual clutter. Waiting for something. And it looks like it's getting ready too. Brilliant.

Come on, beauty. We’re going for a walk. Far away from here. Once again. I'm not leaving without you, you know that. Soon we will both be filled with exotic, delicious drinks. 

Quick dopamine is a nice compensation for the bitterness of another fruitless movement to crawl out of this hole. Good, good…

What else? 

Our typical travel checklist is somewhere at the bottom of this mess. Somewhere here, in the chaos of our life. Too tired to look for it, as always. So organised. Internal chaos often turns into external mess, there is nothing you can do about it.

There’s a writing tissue, stick and and some juice sticking out of the habitual tabletop clusterflip… Hm. Great. A cheerful company of writing instruments and materials is always welcome. Especially when your own memory isn't too keen on keeping you company.

Amelia quickly walked back to the table and sharply pulled several pieces out of a pile of cut-up writing cloth. And of course what was on the top is immediately scattered on the floor. 

Shhh... No noise, no noise...

Ami angrily picked up the out-of-control paper cutter and shook her finger at it. But it wasn’t the only troublemaker. The scraps of writing cloth, already covered with drawings, also ended up on the floor. Pieces of a unique map of the Continent made by mother. Her own work, torn and trampled by her own hands… 

How symbolic.

Ami winced as if from a sudden spasm. The eternal victim of her own curiosity, she didn't even want to recall the very episode, and quickly suppressed the feelings of guilt and anger and shoved them into a travel bag along with the pieces of the map. 

…Maybe we can do something about that in the end, you know. If Ivette's too weak to finish her own job.

For the Lands of Normality lie beyond and above the fertility-specialised Kantine. And there, with the proper sources of varied information, we could surely find the knowledge and materials to restore this undervalued treasure. And to reunite these disparate pieces of the former mother's personality. 

Or even, joking aside, we'll be able to add something to it. Not in a negative way. 

Perhaps Ami the Misfortune could still fulfil her mother's wishes and live up to her hopes. But not by becoming a decent plant breeder, but by becoming a decent researcher. Of course, she is a far cry from her mother, but considering how tightly the “advanced” Yvette is mired in her problems, she has long since ceased to be a worthy rival. And even the desire to compare herself to her has completely disappeared.

Given that Amelia is going to be an employee of the Omill Department of Truth, there must be a way to gain access to the Omill Temple Archives. Perhaps there's some sort of simplified access procedure.

It should not be as difficult to access as, say, Central Prime Archives. In theory.

If she stays in Omill and is not sent back, of course. If it is sent to Omill at all.

“So many “ifs”. Here we are again, feeding our depression and feelings of rejection. Enough of that. It's not relevant. What's next? “

Sleep. Sleep is next. Everything is packed except the food. 

Ami doesn't have many things. She doesn't need much. Only the most comfortable. A big travel bag is ready and other things wait for her return. 

And she always returns.

Ami clicked her tongue in annoyance, remembering the old "resentment" towards the beautiful and inaccessible cities that did not accept her the first, nor the second, nor the third time.

It is fiiine. 

She has to get used to rejection and ghosting, they have been her best and most trusted friends for as long as she can remember. It's time to accept them and stop ignoring their unseen daily presence.