To Whomever is Reading this,

I have finally gotten a minute to write. I don't know how long I have before I must scamper off but until then I will attempt to write all that is stifling inside my chest.

My people are dying. So many have died already that my tears have run dry. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. So if my letters stop suddenly, I may not be around to send them anymore. I remember wondering why I am writing these letters even when everything seems futile in one of my earlier letters. I feel that I know now. It is so that I can convince myself to keep moving. To not just give up and let what is happening sweep me away. To remind myself that I, as a person, exist. That I matter. And to fool myself into believing that there is someone waiting for me, needing my continued existence. So I write.

And again I apologize for turning maudlin. It is hard not to in these times but that is no excuse, so, my apologies dear reader. As an apology, shall I talk about a happier memory? Mmm... Happy is a difficult emotion to bring up but it is all the more precious for it.

This is about 10 turns of the stars since I was born. My mother was a Healing Hand. Allow me to introduce what a Healing Hand is, in case Healing Hands have become a thing of the past (which would truly be a pity, in my personal opinion). As you must have surmised, a Healing Hand is a person who heals. This healing is done through the blending of various materials which are used on the sick body, as required. These materials vary from case to case as different sicknesses in different bodies require different counters. They range from plant materials to animal products and in some extreme cases, the Healing Hand may call upon the Agnihotri and exchange their lifeblood/lifespan for medicinal materials. But such cases are truly rare as, for one, it takes a huge talent to be able to call upon the Agnihotri. Another reason is that one must be prudent and not anger the Angihotri with frequent disturbances. Also, a Healing Hand is also a person, so such strain is not to be taken lightly.

As a child of a Healing Hand, I often went to the forest collect medicinal materials for my mother. On one of my trips, I met Taira, the first love of my life. She was a Kerfeffa, while I was a Maiyi, but that did not hinder either of us from getting close to each other. The wars of the adults meant nothing to the innocence of children.

I hear something! I must run again. I shall attempt at a longer letter for my next one dear reader but now I must away...

love,

Laika