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Old 09-29-2006, 03:44 PM   #207
Firefoot
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Join Date: Dec 2003
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Firefoot has been trapped in the Barrow!
Johari

Johari sat broodingly, preferring to take a background position in the more recent happenings of the camp. Why did she really care whether they chose to rescue the children or to defend the camp? She felt no personal duty towards either. This was nothing like how she had imagined escape would be, living in one large communal group like this, trying to find that enigmatic someplace to live.

When she looked around her, she did not feel amicably towards her companions. Rather, she felt a sense of loathing or disgust at the disorganized, pettily fighting mass of human flesh that did not even know what it wanted – and she was a part of it. She had stood up and complained and been compensated as if she were one of them, and she had been satisfied if only for a short time. It all seemed so pointless. Maybe they were meant to be slaves. Maybe that was all they were fit for. She reached across her body to touch the dark brand on the back of her left shoulder, and a brief but fierce fire burned up in her again. Never. She was a fighter.

The futility of it all still loomed behind her like an abyss, the abyss that she had not even realized was there until she had finally escaped the bonds of slavery, the abyss that had pulled her in a little deeper every day that she had chosen not to fight.

Because what was the point?

Kalin.

How long had it been since she thought of him who had once governed her thoughts? Where was he now? That had been the reason: to find him. So why was she here, and not looking for him? The thoughts had a well worn feel to them; she remembered thinking them before. He was looking for her, too, of course, and news of their large group, if they could ever settle somewhere, would surely reach his ears – he would come find her then. That was why she stayed with this group.

She shook herself from her reverie to see not too far away a small circle of women sitting around an elderly woman that Johari vaguely recognized. Overhearing them without really eavesdropping, she realized they were talking about the defense of themselves so that they could someday, “see our own crops grow in our own soil.” Pretty dreams, Johari scoffed, but she nevertheless felt a wistful smile tug at the corners of her chapped lips. For their sake, she hoped it might happen; crushed hopes were a hard thing to live with. It was better to simply live by fact.

With those opposing ideas meshing peacefully in her mind without the slightest conflict, Johari spent the night in restful wakefulness, by turns dozing and watching.
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