Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, and months turn to years. Five years is how long a young girl laying in her comfy bed had been wandering. Five years since her parents murdered and her home and nation burned and annexed like a forgotten child’s toy. The memories were vivid, the smell of smoke and ash, of iron and blood. The bodies laying candidly in their beds. The shrieks and cries of her siblings and the hooves of the horses.

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The beginning