Ylva’s Entries
The sun stopped moving a while ago. I’m not quite sure what happened, nobody is. It just stopped there in the sky one day and we haven’t had a night since. I haven’t felt a need to write on the clan banner until now. It’s only recently that I’ve felt compelled to make sure our story is passed on for future generations. My life hasn’t been a particularly notable one in our family thus far, it’s the times that need to be remembered. The gods are dead, in their absence the sun stopped moving, and the stone-clad monsters they call Dredge have returned to attack our towns. I remember hearing stories of them as a girl, and never imagined that one day they would drive us from our village. But now they approach, and Bjarne has told me that they will arrive soon. We must go. With so much uncertainty in the world I must write for my daughter and the other children her age, so she can know our history and learn of what our journey was like if I’m no longer there to tell her. Dagny, my dear, perhaps one day you can add to our story, writing here wherever I leave off.
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Our caravan is walking a long way to a new settlement near Frostvellr. Our chief says that they’ll take us in with the other refugees displaced by the Dredge, though I wonder if he’s being too optimistic. Or if he doesn’t know for sure but realizes like the rest of us that it’s our best shot. Life in the caravan is strange. We’re always marching onward, taking short rests, constantly wary of an army of Dredge that might be catching up with us. If we stop for some reason, or take a detour, nobody really knows what’s happening except the folks at the front. Eventually gossip makes its way back to the rest of us but the details aren’t especially reliable after so many exchanges between clansmen. I carry Dagny much of the time, but she’s big enough now that I can’t hold her for more than a couple miles between camping spots. Sometimes other members of the caravan are kind enough to walk with me and hold her when both she and I are too weary to keep up without help. Many are our former neighbors and shopkeepers, like Bjarne, who volunteers most often. It gives me some peace to know that they’re here with us, even if our home no longer exists. Some of our townspeople have not been so lucky. Some we lost in the escape, others were killed by the Dredge during a war in the mountains. I hope that we lose no more.
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Frostvellr has no room for us. They sold us what supplies they could spare and gave us directions to another city further south that supposedly has more space. What’s more, it’s further from the reach of the Dredge. I can’t tell if this is better or worse than the outcome we were originally marching for. No matter what we think, though, we need to move on and find a place to settle down again.
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Dagny has become quite the little archer these past few weeks in camp. Teaching her has been a source of light through the hardships we’ve faced on the road. Other warriors in the caravan have offered to teach her their skills as well, and she seems to be enjoying the lessons. I’ve also been showing her how to sew so she can add her story when she’s older to the banner. If there’s any grand story to tell… Quite honestly I don’t know what the world holds for my daughter anymore. The world feels like it’s dying, or like it already has. She doesn’t understand what happened to our home, just that she misses it. Whatever happens, I want her to feel like she can take care of herself. I don’t want her to feel so scared the way we all do now. There’s not much I can do to help her achieve that, I know, but perhaps learning all that she can right now will do her some good in the future. If nothing else it’s been keeping her occupied during the long, otherwise boring rest periods.
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We were attacked by a drove of those stone-clad monsters today. Dagny was off playing with some of the other children when they charged, and I’ve never felt more fear than I did not knowing where she was when the caravan erupted into panicked chaos. After a scare like that I won’t be letting her out of my sight again. Bjarne and many of the other warriors were injured fighting the Dredge off, and in the run for it we lost much of our supplies. I’ve helped heal as many as I can, but I don’t know if some of them will make it. As for the supplies, a group of us are venturing out once we finish setting up camp to scavenge for potential sources of food and replacements. Dagny is coming with me.
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We’ve had to remain at camp for several days now, waiting for our wounded to heal and for our chief to get a bearing on where we’re headed. While we’re waiting Dagny and I have been painting the fighters’ shields with scavenged pigments to surprise them once they recover. I’m constantly in awe of that child and her adaptability. We’re living in a reality that I can barely make sense of and here she’s perfectly content brushing what look like… giant trees with swords? onto these shields beside me. I feel like I have a lot to learn from her.
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We don’t have enough food for everyone anymore. With far too many miles left between us and our destination I can’t risk running out of food for Dagny, so all the rations we’ve been receiving have gone to my daughter. I only need a little food to continue on with her. Members of our caravan are starving, and I will not have her be one of them.
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Dagny’s Entry
It’s been years since we first set out to find a new home. In fact, I hardly remember a time when we weren’t wandering. But I do remember my mother. I remember what she did for me and the memories we shared in camp. I remember her kindness and determination in the face of hopelessness. I remember the start of our journey both because I was there to witness it and because of the words she wrote here. Bjarne has been caring for me since the famine that took her all those years ago. We met up with another caravan and together we have found a way to thrive. Somehow. For the past two years or so we’ve managed to stay in place long enough to start a new village. The other archers and I have fended off the Dredge alongside our fighters. But I am writing on the day that our leaders have announced that we’ll be starting on the trail again soon to find a more quiet place to settle. Now I will take up the chance to tell the story of how we continue and rebuild after so much loss and chaos. The chance to make the most of my mother’s legacy. The world around us feels fairly hopeless and dark, even in the eternal daylight. The sun has died, the gods won’t return, but we’re still here. I wish I could say what this dying world has in store for us. For now, we march on together.
