"The plants speak if you listen," Elisi’s voice echoed in my memory, but I sighed and plucked the mushrooms without much thought. My grandmother always stressed the land’s symbols, but I’d never fully grasped their significance. They were just words to me—wisdom for someone else.
"Wado," I whispered to the oak out of habit, repeating the motion as Elisi had taught me. It was routine now, more gesture than belief. I bent to gather the mushrooms, noting how the forest felt the same as every other morning. The light shimmer I thought I saw around my hands was probably just dew catching the sun. Nothing more.
Back at the cabin, Elisi sat in her usual spot in the back room, wrapped in her worn blanket adorned with Blue clan patterns. Her frail body was hunched, but her eyes, deep with generations of memory, fixed on me.
Without a word, she extended her hand for the basket. I set it down beside her, feeling that familiar awkwardness. “The oak tree shared its medicine,” I said, though the words in Cherokee felt slightly distant. They meant more to her.
Elisi examined the mushrooms carefully, nodding slowly. “Did you feel anything today?”
I hesitated. “I mean… they were there. I took them.” I shrugged. “I didn’t feel much different.” I shifted uncomfortably but was saved from replying when the sounds of thunder cut through the morning stillness.
There was a commotion coming from the village center. Horses’ hooves thundered on packed earth, and a sense of dread settled over me like a cold hand on my spine.
The sounds grew louder. I exchanged a glance with Elisi, who, despite her age, moved with surprising swiftness.
"Pack what speaks to you," she commanded, her voice steady. "Leave behind what doesn’t."
I blinked in confusion, looking around at the shelves filled with belongings. “Speaks to me?” I repeated, but my hands remained still. They were just things—objects, tools, food.
But Elisi was already moving, pulling dried herbs from the rafters with practiced ease and handing me a bundle of corn. “Now, you must trust.”
Trust. It was a word she used often, but I felt the gulf between us widen in moments like these. I hesitated again, glancing around the room, unsure of what was important.
“Elisi, I—”
She didn’t let me finish. She pushed a small bundle into my hands. “This. And this.” She gestured toward the stone mortar, still heavy with the scent of freshly ground herbs.
Reluctantly, I gathered the items. I had never felt the energy she spoke of, never understood the connection. Yet, her insistence forced me to move, to act, even if I didn’t understand why.
As the shouts of soldiers drew nearer, my hands moved faster. I stuffed the bundle and mortar into a sack, along with the clan wampum, unsure if I chose them because they ‘spoke’ to me or because Elisi expected me to.
Outside, the scene was chaos. Families were being driven from their homes, children clutching at their parents, and elders struggling to keep up. My heart pounded, and for the first time, something inside me stirred—an awareness, almost a warning. I glanced at Elisi, whose face remained composed, but her eyes were sharp, unwavering.
The door burst open with a loud crash, and soldiers filled the frame, their bayonets glinting in the early morning light. “Out! Now!” they barked.
Elisi grabbed the sack from me, ordered me to stay in the room, and slipped out toward the commotion and the rest of the family.
My two younger siblings clung to my mother’s side, eyes wide with fear. My mother stood frozen near the hearth, one hand trembling as she reached for the basket of corn. Our father moved forward slowly, his hands raised, but there was a resignation in his face—he knew better than to fight.
The soldiers stormed inside, their presence filling the room with a cold, heartless authority. “Out!” one of them barked, his gaze sweeping over them like they were livestock.
“We need more time,” my father said, his voice calm, though it wavered slightly. “We are gathering our things—”
“You don’t have time!” the soldier snapped, pushing past him without a second glance. His gaze settled on a small carved knife my younger brother had proudly made weeks earlier. Without hesitation, the soldier grabbed it, turning it over in his hands.
“That’s mine!” my brother cried out, lunging toward the soldier. Mother quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
The soldier smiled, twisting the small knife in his fingers. “Not anymore,” he said mockingly. Behind him, another soldier rifled through our belongings, scattering clothes, upending a basket of corn with an air of bored entitlement. His hands moved quickly, without care, and when he found something he liked—a small copper bracelet my mother had kept as an heirloom—he slipped it into his pocket.
My father’s hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t move. We had heard the stories—families who fought back, tried to resist, and were met with unspeakable violence. We had seen neighbors taken away in chains, some never returning. It was too dangerous to fight.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
As the soldiers continued to plunder the cabin, I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. When one soldier, taller and more deliberate than the others, moved toward the back of the cabin, his eyes sweeping over the room. He approached the door to the small room I was in.
He pushed the door open with a lazy shove, his gaze shifting over the room—a bed and belongings, the few personal items strewn about. His eyes landed on me, lingering for a moment too long. I felt his gaze like a weight pressing down on me, heavy and suffocating.
He picked up a small blanket that hung on the edge of the bed frame, examining it briefly before letting it drop. His gaze shifted back to me, slow, appraising. He said nothing, but the implication was there, lingering in the air like smoke.
My heart hammered in my chest, but I forced myself to stand still.
The soldier stepped closer, leaning in just enough to brush his fingers against the edge of my dress. His touch was light, sending a chill through my body.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My entire body was frozen, my mind screaming, but my limbs refused to respond. I felt paralyzed beneath his gaze, trapped in a moment I couldn’t escape.
The soldier’s eyes flickered with amusement before he straightened up, casting one last glance over me. “I’ll remember you,” he whispered as he turned away and left the room.
The door clicked softly behind him, and I stood there, trembling.
When I finally emerged from the room, my face was pale, my hands trembling. My mother and father were busy with the soldiers, their attention fixed on keeping my younger siblings safe. No one saw the way I faltered, the way my legs shook beneath me.
Elisi’s eyes met mine for a moment, sharp and knowing, but she said nothing. If she sensed something was wrong, she didn’t let on.
Outside, the soldiers were growing impatient. “Move!” one of them shouted, his hand on the hilt of his rifle.
My father moved first, guiding my siblings toward the door, his face tight with anger. My mother followed, glancing nervously at the soldiers who still hovered around the cabin, grabbing what little we still had. As we stepped outside, the cold morning air hit me like a slap. The village was in chaos—families being herded together, children crying, elders struggling to keep up. The soldiers were everywhere, pushing and shouting, their voices harsh against the silence of grief and heartache.
My family stayed close together, my mother’s arms around my younger brothers, my father’s eyes scanning the crowd with resignation.
My heart ached, not just for myself but for everyone around us. Our home, our land—it was all slipping away. And no one could stop it.
As we were led away from our cabin, Elisi shuffled over to me and pressed a final bundle into my hands, wrapping one of our blankets around my shoulders. "Here Rebecca. Take this and hide it under your blanket. I was told we will be walking the entire way. So, we need to prepare for the worst."
I quickly opened my bundle to take a glance. The herbs glowed green and the corn a golden hue, seemingly more vibrant than they should be.
As I stared, a voice, like Elisi’s resonated in my mind.
“Preserve the healing wisdom during the journey. Learn the sacred knowledge of these plants to help those in need.”
Along with these words, a list of the herbs and their uses flowed through my mind like water:
- Echinacea: Bites, cough, fevers
- Sweetgrass: smoked for purification, tea to relieve coughs
- Yarrow: hemorrhages, fever
- Wintergreen: fever, headaches, tea for menstrual pain
- Ginseng: infections
- Rosemary: analgesic, also a spice
- Sage: cramps, cuts, bruises, colds, flu, also a spice
"Don't let anyone see those," Elisi whispered. "This will be a long journey, and they may be useful.
I nodded as I put the bundle under my arm, obscured by the draping of the blanket. The knowledge settled into my mind, feeling both foreign and familiar at once.
"I included some corn and mushrooms for food," Elisi added quietly. "We don't have a lot so eat only when necessary."
As we joined the crowd of our people being herded away from our homes, I felt the weight of both the bundle and my new pursuit pressing against my heart. Perhaps now, on this dark trail ahead, I would finally understand what it meant to listen to the land's voice.
[Chapter 1 Complete]
- Skills Gained: 1
- Quests Active: 1
- Story Progress: 16%
[New Quest: Trail of Tears]
- Objective: Survive and complete the forced journey without losing essential knowledge and resources.
- Complete: 0%
[Inventory Unlocked: Carrying Capacity (Level 1)]
Improved ability to carry essential items with limited strain.
- Max Slots: 6
- Load Impact on Movement: High
- Critical Item Types: Food, Water, Medicinal Herbs
- Bundle Efficiency: Basic
[Item Acquired: Herb Bundle]
Contents: Echinacea, Sweetgrass, Yarrow, Wintergreen, Ginseng, Rosemary, Sage
Properties: Healing, purification, fever reduction
[New Skill Unlocked: Herb Knowledge (Level 1)]
Ability to identify common medicinal herbs found along the journey and gained knowledge of traditional healing plants.
- Success Rate: 50% (increases with experience and guidance from the grandmother)
- Herb Types Identifiable: Basic (healing, pain relief)
- Plants recognized: Echinacea, Sweetgrass, Yarrow, Wintergreen, Ginseng, Rosemary, Sage
- Gathering Yield: Low
[Debuff Activated: ???]
- Effects unknown
- Duration unknown