siku 144, mwaka 3457

I have made it here. No one has found my savored doll. The people here at the recreational camp are nice and calm, like a feather in the wind. Quietly I stalk a lone swan in its regal ponds territory, and it seems at peace. However, they have run out of good quality chakula at the camps, and now I must hunt for some my self. This swan seems so pure and innocent; it truly does feel like a bad shame to kill it. If I do, then I must protect the corpse from those who are scavengers and pick up the remains from others, zaidi lucky. My mystic doll surely would've granted me the luck from the goddesses to get some food. No wonder I have not survived my childhood without it. I should be much stronger and heavier in bulk. However, my doll isn't with me. It offers sweet protection, undying care, and loving embraces. But now, here all alone, no family in dire sight.

That is Misfortunate.

I killed the graceful swan. That is before I prayed it would enjoy the sweet sensations of heaven. Just as my mother did before my father. Her death was his joy. My sister and I grieved and bled for so long. I sensed horrible deaths looming over me. Those of hundreds and thousands. But I took the dead meat and ran.

Far away from this used-to-be salama haven

But I did not know the direction I was heading in.