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month record rogue 3 3 2
Whether by chance or by fate, she avoided death, becoming the only survivor of the massacre.
But death came again to the tree she served.
It was not a passing in the physical realm, but of the cognitive realm.
She found the group that had migrated, and told them of the tragedy.
The leader of the clan expressed his regrets, and invited Santalla to rejoin them.
But seeing the new clan tree rising from the earth, and that the clansmen had begun to forget the old tree—
She chose self-exile.
Even though her clansmen had already performed the ceremony of parting for the old tree, and the mystic instruction to replant the clan tree—
Santalla still felt like the tribe abandoned the old tree.
The new generation does not know what the old tree is. In a few decades, the tribe that once venerated it will forget it entirely.
And then, it will fade into myth, becoming a mere symbol.
Santalla refuses to accept it.
She will leave the old tree's mark behind, even if she becomes an outcast.
She is the old tree's servant.
Perhaps the tree knew, which is why it truly died in the physical sense when Santalla visited it again.
It collapsed in the snow, and snow soon pounced on its wilted branches like a pack of hungry wolves.
And along with it, the memories, the pain, and the sorrow of the past.
For some reason, Santalla feels peace when facing this moment at last.
Hatred for the Ursus.
Bewilderment at her kin.
Disappointment at their leader.
Regret towards herself.
Even her yearning for the old tree.
All buried in the snow, with the body of the dead.
If the old tree wants her to seek a new life—
Then so be it.
Santalla leaves, taking nothing with her.
