Day 5: Zhraa’s Journal

I sat by the river this morning, the water cold on my hands, and it felt like Vex was still there. I didn’t see him, but his voice was in the reeds—”Don’t trust the moss, Zhraa. It’s the kind that remembers too much.” I’ve been scraping it from the Timber Stand roots for weeks, and now it’s the only thing that keeps me from forgetting what it’s like to be hungry. The rain’s been steady all week, and I’ve been trying to tell Zyx about the glow-moths, but my throat’s too tight. I think I’ll just keep walking toward the ruins. It’s the only place where the silence feels like it’s waiting for me.