Forlaith: Lost

March 9

We have anchored in at a little island. I have not been this happy since before Ardythe entered my life. Sadly, it took many hours before the sailors deemed the beach safe enough for us lowly women to join them. They found fresh water, filled a few barrels for our immediate use, and started an enormous fire—to keep the beasts away, I was told by one old, grouchy sailor.

The island is much like our own home, but with a few differences. In an effort to avoid Oswyn, and to see some of these differences, I snuck away from the camp and made my way down the rocky beach. This was perhaps the biggest mistake of my young life.

I had made it maybe a mile down the beach when it ended quite suddenly, turning from stony flatness into an expanse of large boulders. Looking towards the center of the island I spotted the cliff side that had evidently fallen towards the beach. The enormous stones continued on into the sea, their peaks barely visible above the high tide.

I wasn’t anywhere near ready to return to camp, so I turned into the forest. It wasn’t dense and the going was easy.

I happily trudged on, stopping at a stream to drink the fresh, sweet water.

Shortly after the river the land began to rise up a gentle slope, making me a little more uncomfortable, but it was a discomfort that felt good. After so many weeks on a tiny ship it felt pleasant to work muscles until they burned.

At the top of this first rise the trees parted and I was able to see a short way into a narrow valley with a stream winding through it. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. Though I knew I should have turned back at that point, I descended the hill into the valley, where I found a strange fruit tree. I probably shouldn’t have tried it, considering that I had never seen it before, but I did. Perhaps I don’t fear death like I ought to, considering the life I am now to lead.

The fruit was yellowish-orange in color. I bit into it and gagged. The outside of the fruit looked a little like scales or wart-covered skin, in other words slightly bumpy. The skin was thick and tasted bitter and sour. I was going to toss the fruit aside, assuming it was inedible, but then I noticed a few over-ripe pieces that had fallen from the tree. Beyond the thick skin appeared a segmented flesh. With a little effort I managed to get past the tough skin.

I have never tasted anything like it. It was sweet and tart, all at the same time, and yet it quenched my thirst in a way the water had not. These would be a great addition to our diet on the ship. I considered carrying some back to the beach, but decided I could explore a little longer before returning. I would make sure to take the same route I had thus far, and therefore stop by the tree again.

I climbed up the opposite side of the valley to a narrow peak. I was just thinking of turning back, considering I had just torn my dress and knew I had a scolding from Oswyn waiting for me, when I slipped and tumbled back down into the valley.

Or, at least, I thought it was the valley I had just climbed out of. They both looked so similar. I got up slowly, relieved to find I had not broken any bones, though I knew I would be bruised and sore for a number of days.

I wandered for a very long time, occasionally eating a piece of fruit to keep my energy up. It quickly became clear I had not fallen into the same valley. Eventually I had to admit that I was totally lost.

Many hours later, when the sun had disappeared over the top of the trees and the air had grown chill with an evening breeze, I began to panic. A short time later I stumbled out onto another rocky beach, though I was certain it wasn’t the same as the one we had camped besides. I hesitated for a couple minutes before turning to the right, praying to the gods I was heading in the correct direction. Either way, I figured I could follow the beach until I found our camp. The island couldn’t be that large.

Then I remember the bolder field that had turned me into the forest in the first place.

I was just about to sit down and give up when I rounded a bend on the beach, and there it was—the bolder field.

But how was I supposed to get over it?

I stared at it for a while before I realized the sun was close to setting. If I waited any longer I would lose the light and my only hope of reaching camp before nightfall.

I hiked up my skirts, thankful Oswyn couldn’t see me, and scrambled up the first bolder. The rock was rough and scraped up my hands. On top of the bolder, I plotted a course and hopped to the next rock. In this fashion I made it to the other side with only one scary slip, which nearly sent me into the foaming ocean. I was just beginning to search for a way down when I heard them—the faint shouts of men calling my name.

“I’m here,” I yelled as loud as I could. Slowly, dots of light appeared at the bend in beach. I slipped down the stone, jarring my sore feet on the rocky beach.

It was a small sensation compared to the relief of knowing I was safe.

As I’m sure you expected, I received a harsh lecture from Oswyn for the state my dress, but when she saw the number of scrapes and bruises on my legs and arms, she quieted.

Of course, Ardythe was also angry, but in a quiet, deadly sort of way.

I will avoid him for a few days.