A traitor's journal- Ana Part I

This once green land is now a dormant-brown and what remained of its nutrients rationed out to the

wealthiest. Leaving the rest of us hungry, but although my stomach growls. It isn't food I crave.

I crave vengeance. Not only for me, but for all who've suffered and lost their freedom from the burning

of WoodPecker Peak. Being guilty for nothing but growing up there and living in the abandoned

houses, since they are no longer welcomed in the city. Having little to no food or clean water, but what

I bring to them. They tell me I'm a hero, and that my good deeds will be told through out the years.

But, I don't feel like a hero, I feel like a monster. Bestowing the same fate my people have suffered for

years onto others who are waiting for their turn, and I only sped up the process. But, I cannot save

everyone, and sometimes the ones I can't save are the ones I wish I could. And I still think of them

daily, remembering the words they've spoken to me. And no matter how hard I try, I cannot forget

them. They are scars left to remind me of the cruelty that goes on in this world. Like the mark on my

left shoulder that brands me as a traitor, the mark that knights come to brand new borns every year with

just to make sure their parents don't sneak them into the city for a 'better' life. Deeming us unworthy of

their gods, their castles and their kings. Damning us to live in the wild living off of nothing while they

dine with their fancy silver-ware next to their warm fires. They don't have to worry about keeping the

cold out. They are handed logs of wood for their precious stone-fire places, while my people have to

walk miles to find trees that haven't been cut down and some don't make it back. Hypothermia sets in,

and yet another becomes orphaned and has to fend for themselves, no matter the age. For some it

proves too much to handle and others come out strong and prevail. Responsibility now left to them to

delay the effects of the cold, and I being one of them. But, not just one of them. They look to me as

leader, to protect and to provide. But, as of late many have turned away from me. Refusing to listen and

live under my leadership, calling me reckless and unfit to lead. Reckless I may be, but I have yet to be

punished for my transgressions, except for today. I am expected to speak at a funeral for the

loss of another dead, another one who chose to detach from us. A test to see if I'll crack, to see if I'll be

able to handle another one of my people dying and still be sane. But, he was not one of my people, at

least not anymore. He stopped being one of us when he decided to abandon his duties as doctor, healer, and as a father.