———Epilogue———

Elliot, Marcus and I had three children. But there were many other children around the travelling camp where we lived. And they were all equally ours. And they were all equally everyone's. 

The city never found us. They grew up in a life that was unburdened by the city and all it's excesses. They grew up simple. Humble. Bright. Free. And my heart sang to see them playing pretend games among the grasses or climbing trees to pick their fruits. 

One of our children, Anisha, was born without sight. But she was alright. Because we took care of her. And she took care of us too, in so many different ways. And I think she's happy, living on the land and in oneness with it. 

We told all of the children, all of our children, stories of the City. Stories of where we had come from. Stories of what that was like. Stories of how we realized that we had to escape. Stories of how we did finally escape. 

They were very rightly horrified by it. By the overwhelming materialism and shallowness that the city pressed down upon all of its inhabitants. By the narrow-minded, rigid cultures of the people there. But thankfully their horror was a detached sort of horror. They did not have to live through it themselves. 

I missed my family. I never thought I would. But it turns out that I did. You can't grow up with people and then just not miss them. But I left when I was sixteen. I was old enough to take on the world on my own. It wasn't like I was some helpless runaway child. 

There was so much to learn in the Forest and the Fields. We learned how to live off the land. How to gather food and water and make clothes and shelter and medecine and fire. But we also learned how to be people. We learned how to love each other, how to help each other, how to be with each other, how to respect each other, how to know each other. 

There was so much that we could teach our children. So much that our children taught us. I could never have conceived, living in the city, that such knowledge existed. That so much knowledge existed. 

Bad things did occasionally happen. People got sick. People got injured. But we always took care of them. We always gave them medecine and gave them time to heal. And they did heal. 

And our spirits healed too, all at once and over a long period of time. 

Our children grew up. All of all of our children, who were all equally all of ours. Our children had children of their own. And those children were all ours. And those children were all beautiful. And we loved them with all of our hearts. As they laughed and played and sang and danced and did generally all the adorable things that children do in their lives. 

One child, named Reuben, had legs that didn't work so we carried him around on a pallet of furs and wood. 

And we told the stories of the city to the grandchildren too. It's vitally important to know where your people come from. It's important to know your history. 

We lived into old age. Something none of us ever thought possible. And when one by one people started passing from this world, it was not a sad event but rather a joyous one. They were taking the next steps on their journey. They were passing into the next life. 

And we made sure that our people always patrolled the outside of the Wall. That they were always ready to receive a new batch of runaways from the city. That they would welcome them and teach them and integrate them into our family. 

Because this place is a place of refuge.

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