Land of Mirriam

Winter was harsh in the northeastern parts of the frontiers. The cold wind coming from the mountains would bring a chilling breath that would paint the hills and fields white.

These conditions would go on for the whole span of the season and though the temperatures would go up after the time passed, the winds would become more harsh when the changing of seasons began.

Amidst the biting wind and frigid air, a teenage girl was running. She had forgotten to wear proper clothing to protect herself from the cold, dressed only in a velvet duster, the one worn by medicine practitioners in her village.

Clutched close to her chest was a baby, wrapped in thick clothes to shield it from the freezing air. Her hair, once tied in a butterfly knot, had come loose, falling along her face, while her brow curved with the weight of her sorrow.

She was tasked to end the baby’s life. A task given to her by her teacher whom she assisted during the birth of the child. She could still remember the face of the Explorer who sought help from them.

The word of her teacher rang in her mind as she remembered the scene when she gave her the order.

It was a dimly lighted hut. The doctor’s hut in the Ahas village was the closest one on the frontier that could be described as a medical center.

As the mother of the child lost her consciousness the apprentice and the doctor wiped the child off of blood.

It was mandatory for the doctor to check out the baby’s condition. Its limbs, fingers, and feet. Ensuring that the ears and the nose were cleared of any mucus. The baby was not crying so the doctor had to slap the baby’s feet to make it cry.

“Uwaaa!!!” and it was a good effect.

The baby was alive, but there were still a few checks that the doctor had to do, grabbing the candle that was close by he began waving it in front of the child. Although a baby couldn’t see as it had just been born, it could still detect light.

“No!” the doctor muttered. Her student was already cleaning up the used clothes paused and approached her.

“Sierra, take a needle and the yellow bottle please!” but before the student came close, the doctor threw her a task.

Dropping all she was doing, she followed the order. She knew that the yellow bottle was a container that contained the sleeping drugs concocted by her teacher.

It was just in the cabinet in the same room.

She took it and a needle and then immediately gave it to her teacher.

“Thank you… sorry Sierra but I have another task for you…” with practiced hands, the doctor opened the bottle and dipped the needle a little into the contents of the bottle.

“You have to kill this child, he is an abomination,” the doctor declared as she pricked the feet of the child. The baby instantly slept after a few seconds, such was the effect of the inflicted needle.

“Teacher… please repeat,-” but even after she finished her sentence her teacher tapped her feet on the wooden floor.

“Make sure to kill it, I don’t care how, just kill it and come back, or don’t come back at all!” it was an ultimatum coming from the doctor.

Still, the apprentice wanted to know why she had to kill the baby so she stood there motionless, she was thinking of the next words she wanted to say.

“Look at this!” the teacher said as there was a small steam that was coming from the spot where the teacher pricked the baby, the wound was healing all by itself. She covered the baby expertly packing the child with thick clothes.

The student just silently stared at her teacher as if she was waiting for the packing to finish “Look at his eyes, it's different, something that Lady Zhisata had warned me before,” the doctor said as she handed the baby to her student.

The baby was fast asleep in her arms. By her master’s orders, she used her hands to open up the baby's eyelids. “Snake eyes?” she muttered.

“Go on now, I will fix things here,” her teacher said as she resumed the cleaning job her student was doing earlier.

And now back to the present.

She was already far from the village and the mountain’s feet were approaching. She stopped to think of how she would dispose of the child.

Looking around she surmised her options.

‘A rock? Cover the baby in snow and let it freeze to death?’ as she began to weigh her options tears uncontrolled began flowing from her eyes.

She knelt down as the weight of the actions she should do came crashing her, she kept on thinking. ‘Why! Why me!’ she was studying to be a doctor to save lives not to take it. ‘The pure innocent child?’

As a student, she had studied the possible mutations a human could have during birth. There were times when babies were born with something that altered their humanity, something akin to atavism.

“Awooooo!!!” and then a sound that sent shivers down her spine echoed from the mountains.

“Wolves…” Maybe it was better this way.

Steeling her resolve, she stood up and began walking again closer to the mountain. The mountain was called Mosspeak, there had been legends that a pack of wolves would sometimes visit there.

Upon reaching a large rock she stopped. This was the spot. Every fiber of her being was saying ‘This is it.’

She didn’t know why she had positioned the child behind the large rock, shielding them from the wind and cold.

"Goodbye, little one," she whispered, before walking away with heavy steps.

The child was bundled in thick clothes, offering protection for a time, but the biting cold and relentless snow would soon penetrate the layers and chill the baby’s skin. As the wind howled, a four-legged, furry creature cautiously approached the scene.

It was a large, lone she-wolf, with braids woven into the fur on her face—twists made from the hair of her cherished family. She approached the child with the purest of intentions.

A knock on the doctor’s hut. The doctor had just finished cleaning up. The mother was still asleep in the bed at the doctor’s clinic.

She dropped the reddish towels to be cleaned tomorrow. She immediately opened the door and saw her student shivering in the cold.

“Come inside,” she said making way for her student to enter the hut.

“Change into dry clothes, I have prepared a calming tea, hurry up!” the doctor’s demeanor as if nothing happened brought chills to her student.

“Master, it's done,” she said as she entered, wallowing in what she had done.

The doctor didn’t have the heart to ask her how she had done it, but the pallid face and the suffocating guilt that the student had shown her screamed for everything she had to know.

“Sierra, everything is my fault, don’t blame yourself, it was my order, not yours,” words that she could think of to at least lessen the guilt that her student was feeling. “But savor it, make it your last, in our career, we fight against death, we will lose sometimes.”

The student paused looking at her teacher, she then continued her way to the second floor of the hut to change.

Though the weather outside was harsh and cold, the doctor and her student sat by the fireplace, sipping tea the doctor had prepared. The warm, soothing aroma filled the small house. Silence lingered between them, heavy with exhaustion and guilt, despite the hours they’d spent delivering the baby.

“Years before you were born, a monstrous flood swept through just south of our village. You must’ve heard the story from your parents,” the doctor finally spoke, breaking the stillness.

But Sierra shook her head. “No, my parents left me when I was still small. That’s why you adopted me, right?” She glared at her teacher, her irritation obvious.

“Of course, of course, I’m sorry,” the doctor replied quickly. “I’m just getting older—” she paused to take a sip of her tea before continuing, “—back then, we had to decide who would live and who could live. The rest were left to die.” She was making a point, but Sierra’s silence suggested she didn’t fully grasp it.

“You’ll understand someday, Sierra. You’ll inherit this hut.” The doctor smiled, the deep lines on her face speaking of the years of hardship she had endured. “It’s tough, really tough,” she added, her voice almost pleading. “I should’ve quit, but my friend died… I wished for this and now look at me. I didn’t even marry—just an old fool!” She laughed, though the sound was hollow, trying to laugh her sorrows away.

Sierra knew how the selection of a doctor’s disciple worked. The doctor would choose two potential candidates, observing them for a time before officially selecting one as their protege. In Sierra’s case, she had been raised to be the doctor’s heir. She also knew the reason there was only ever one doctor was deliberate—to protect the knowledge and prevent new ideas from forming.

“I’ll change everything once I get the hut,” Sierra declared with a smile.

“Do whatever you want. I won’t be around to stop you when I’m gone,” the doctor replied. Just then, a painful moan echoed from the clinic. “But as long as I’m here, I’ll make you do the hard work. Give the mother a drink and tell her the baby didn’t make it.” The doctor poured another cup of tea and handed it to Sierra.

Sierra understood her task and took the cup. “What if I told her the truth?” she asked.

“Sierra, my dear, that’s up to you. But this woman is an Explorer from the north. If we’re lucky, she’ll understand. But in her state, she might kill us before searching for her baby,” the doctor explained in a flat tone.

“I see…” Sierra murmured as she headed to the clinic to deliver the news.

Time passed like winds blowing leaves. In Sierra’s words, she inherited the Doctor’s Hut. Along with it, she was training three students under her tutelage.

It was another cold night. As the winter had just ended, the wind was beginning to act up again. She sat in front of her fireplace.

Her students were now allowed to sleep in the hut, which had already been remodeled to her liking. She had changed the system for selecting proteges, believing the village would benefit from having more doctors. However, she was currently alone in her house, as the students were still permitted to stay with their parents during their apprenticeship.

“It's cold,” she muttered while she was knitting a scarf. In times like this, she would remember that child that she left in the cold.

“Knock! Knock!” and a knock resound from the door of her house.

She checked out the time on the wall. It was 3 hours past midnight. Sierra stood up, she had grown old, around her 40s already, it was still considered young because normal humans tend to live up to 150 years.

“Knock! Knock!” another knock again but she was already in front of the door.

She opened it up and was surprised by what she saw. A few warriors of the village, 2 horses, and then Lady Zhisata who was standing in front of her.

“Sierra, pack up your things and my medicine too, you have to come with us!” the old Lady Zhisata was already hunched. Her age was one of the greatest mysteries in the village.

Lady Zhisata wore a red duster with a coat covering her from the cold, her face was filled with lines that showed her age. As far as Sierra could remember, Lady Zhisata already looked like this when she was still young.

“I will be outside in a few moments!” she said and closed the door back.

There was a small path that led into the mountain range that was adjacent to the Mosspeak mountain. The trees ensured that the band of villagers were invisible. Although there was no wind because of the trees, it was still cold and the damp path was leaving a trail of mud.

“Lady Zhisata, where are we going?” Sierra asked as she quickened her pace, Lady Zhisata was riding the horse.

The darkness fought the small torch that the warrior in the front was carrying, it was the only thing that gave guidance to them, because of the hood of the Old Lady she couldn’t make out her face “Just wait for a while Sierra, we are almost there,” the old lady answered monotonously.

In the hours of their walking, the clearing finally showed itself. The warrior in the front who was holding the torch pushed it down to the ground killing it.

The light of the sunrise began to flash. Sierra who walked out of the clearing saw where they were now, she had been feeling the change of altitude but what surprised her was the sight of the village.

“Lady Zhisata, it's starting,” one of the warriors used his hands to point out the cloud that was approaching from the west of the village. He was using a telescope to look at it.

“The village is under attack?” Sierra muttered as she gazed at the face of the old lady. “You… we escaped?” and she did realize what the situation was.

“Little one, you will understand someday but for now, I must survive!” the old lady then grabbed a pouch on her stomach.

‘But my students!’ Sierra clenched her hands. She was feeling relief and at the same time the guilt.

“Lady Zhisata! There is a shadow there! A man! Holding a sword!” the warrior then reported his sightings.

“Keep on watch!” the old lady said.

Wearing rugged clothes, worn because of travel. A strange sword that was hand made by him. A backpack full of rations of dried fruit and dried meat along with his favorite condiments of salt.

His name was Simon, although he had very unkempt hair he was sure that the sword that he was holding was sharp enough.

‘20 of them… no maybe more?’ he was trying to count the approaching horses with armored men wailing their swords. ‘I just have to stop their approach!’ finally deciding on what he was going to do.

He didn’t need to think that much, the wind and the sound, every piece of information was enough to tell him how far and when they would be in contact.

As he stood gripping his sword with both hands, he calmly waited. Though they were still distant, he could see the riders were either confused or enraged. The horses began to charge at full speed—battle was inevitable. ‘It’s enough,’ his instincts seemed to tell him. He stepped forward slightly, which only deepened the riders’ confusion.

Putting the strange sword in a high stance he swung down into the ground. It burst, creating a cave in while the debris flew in the direction of the charging horses.

Some horses were struck, while a few armored riders managed to evade, but the lead rider couldn’t escape. The collapse would seal their fate. Unable to stop their charge, the horses and riders tumbled like a stampede, their bones breaking, spirits shattering, and casualties mounting.

‘That was effective!’ Simon smiled, his snake-like eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the success of his plan. The surviving riders were horrified by his smiling visage. The bloodbath had begun.