To the Well-Organized Mind

Chapter Twenty-Four

[Nia]

Today's world is one where survival is truly a harsh reward. I have heard of places where the sun shines so brightly that even when you blink or close your eyes, it's like having them open. And when people from there end up going to a place of shadow or darkness or even night, they are effectively blind; their eyes have lost the ability to dilate.

I have heard of a place where pure acid falls from the sky, where pools of water are so hot that even though you are dehydrated and suffering from heat stroke, you cannot touch the water, for it will blister your skin and rupture your innards.

This world itself is a monstrosity trying to murder those atop it, and we have brought it upon ourselves.

-from Ridge's history lessons

***

I can blame the darkness for forgetting the way. That's what I tell Fen, that's what I whisper to myself, that's what I pray is the truth. But swinging from my neck is a constant reminder that there is no such excuse, not for me. Maybe Fen intended it to serve as a memory aid, but right now, it just serves as a ball and chain to the reality of my feralism.

The first part of our journey was muscle memory. But somewhere after the river crossing, my movements slowed and I gradually realized that I wasn't heading a specific direction as much as just plowing forward.

Making it worse is that Fen is the one who decides to halt, to try to start a fire (which he failed at and I had to do), to warm up even though we haven't reached the cave "yet." He makes sure to always tack on that "yet" as if it'll make me feel better. As if he still has faith in my ability to steer us there.

"I'm no expert on survival, but I do know that if I stumble around all night without any rest, I'll be a liability nobody wants," he says lightly. "But I'm sorry for slowing you down again."

He's giving me an out, an excuse to rest, to put the blame on him. And I'm upset because I don't even want to latch onto it as a final lifeline. My lifeline has already been cut. Reaching the last vaccine is just another delay.

The crackling flames offer warmth to our chilled flesh and create roving shadows that could be threats sneaking up on us. I wish we had the walls of a cave around us. At least then the threats could only be coming from one direction.

We are just warming up before trying to get some sleep. But even though we stopped, there's not going to be much sleep, especially if we take to the trees like I prefer.

Being out in the wilds, away from the small civilization we have, does serve to clear my mind, however. The overwhelming feralism diagnosis doesn't feel quite so terminal out here. Is it so bad to fit into the wilderness like the squirrels and the foxes? Living each moment without much thought and instead just reacting?

Yes, it is.

Still, being out here takes some of the edge off. I can find myself actually understanding Ridge's viewpoint.

Resting my chin on my raised knees, I gaze into the fire and think of Ridge. The memories of him that I hold so tightly to myself may soon be lost. We have no photographs to serve as a stark reminder that Yes, we did once live and our lives were beautiful, even if fleeting. No paper tome holds our story for future generations to read. Once my memories fail me, there will be no one to remember our brief time together. To me, that seems incredibly lamentable.

Thus, just like that day weeks ago where I found myself opening up to Fen about my past under the darkened sky, I do so again. I have thought many times how I would start the story of Ridge. All the usual kinds of openings seem cliché and trite and just very un-Nia-like.