The War of the Isles

9. Mila

The road to Ravenburg was not very bad. It was a strange solitude that I had not enjoyed for a while. The path was mostly filled with plenty of trees, albeit not so dense enough to call it a forest. After passing such trees, I would suddenly stumble upon a small village community with farmlands surrounding the village. When I would pass the village, I would be surrounded by trees again. The land around me was filled with hills; not so steep, so I gently claimed and descended very frequently.

I mostly lived off the land, but occasionally would bump into fellow travellers who were kind enough to share their meals. I did not wear my uniform, just to be careful to not reveal my allegiance. I suppose the other travellers did the same. 

The fact of the matter was that most of Fjodhara was Occupied by the Nyewekh. On the other hand Irodhara, the Southern Isle and the second-largest island in the Archipelago was occupied by the Achmans. Nevertheless, spies were everywhere. Abel has cautioned me to be careful, just in case, but rest assured, my travels were going to be relatively easy on Nyewekh lands.

Sometimes, when lay down under the stars, I thought about Ursula and Ingrid. I remembered the time when I first met her. It was a stormy night, and we had been newly drafted in Mezok. I had just entered the Barracks - terrified of the tall Irodharans and the others. I did not know what to expect. 

I had placed my bag and my weapons on one of the bottom bunks when I heard a voice behind me. 

"That is a weird knife!"

I turned to find a chubby dark-skinned thirteen-year-old girl.  Her hair was short but seemed to be matted with a certain substance. I took a sniff to realise that it was Henna. She wore her brown Nyewekh uniform elegantly and upon a glace, I found the the name "Ingrid Sturmhart" needled onto her chest. Her brown inquisitive eyes seemed to fall onto my hip upon which I had strapped my knift.

"That is a gutting knife," I replied.

"A gutting knife! How unusual. You must be an efficient hunter then!"

"Not the best ma'am. I am a Smaha, we carry it as a part of our faith also.

Her arched eyebrows lifted with a certain sense of excitement!

"A Smaha! You must be an excellent hunter then! Welcome to the 76th. And please - Call me Ingrid!"

She momentarily paused her glance shifted from my hip to the bed. 

"Oh dear. You cannot put your weapons there! Another girl occupied it this morning. The top bunk is free if you want!"

I sheepishly removed my belongings and placed them as she had implied onto the top bunk.

As the storm continued to send winds whistling into the barracks, other newly drafted people, slowly began to occupy their places. The green bunk beds occupied by blue uniforms gave me the impression of trees standing upside down. Strangers slowly looking at one another, began the conversations that would craft a lifetime of friendship and camaraderie. Of course, I was to later learn that most of these friendships would not survive in the months to come.

Ingrid and I continued to converse for a good hour. She came from a family of bakers in Mezok and had six brothers and two sisters.  All of them had been drafted into different units. She told me about different making styles and how her parents would compel her to decorate cakes. She told me about how she was filled with desires and dreams to travel around the Isles and even to Medini someday. 

When it was my turn, I told Ingrid about my childhood. My parents and the Smahan way of life. She seemed extremely fascinated with my culture and made me promise to show her our way of life if she were ever to visit Yenburg someday.