Day 22: Zhraa’s Journal

I don’t know why I keep going back to the riverbank after dark. The water’s cold even when the sun’s gone down, but I can’t stop thinking about what Vex said. His voice was quiet, like leaves brushing against stones. ‘The world doesn’t want to be understood,’ he said. I felt it in my chest—like a stone dropping into the river and making ripples that never quite stop. Now, as I lie in this bed of moss and pine needles, my stomach aches with hunger, but it’s not the hunger I feel. It’s the quietness of the river, the way the water moves without sound, the way the sky changes color like a bruise. I wonder if the world is trying to tell me something, or if it’s just me listening too hard. I remember the wood I cut today—how the grain was smooth under my hands, how the saw felt right. But now, all I hear is Vex’s words, the river, and the silence that follows. I don’t want to sleep. I can’t stop wondering what tomorrow will bring. Maybe it’s time to listen to the river instead of trying to understand it.