She dreamt of the distant past.
That was a history too remote, even predating the concept of history itself,
where nobody knew if they would survive until tomorrow, thus no one was interested in recording the past, since even those who could listen to these traditions might all perish the day after tomorrow.
Therefore, she was the same; rather than looking back on the past, rather than focusing on the future, surviving the present was the sole imperative, needing to exert all strength just to live, with no spare energy to ponder other matters.
Yet even she, harbored longings.
She once yearned for the warriors who protected the village.
With no family of her own, nameless, belonging to no one, she was the weakest, most humble child in the village.
It was because of their protection that a child like her managed to survive amid the mud and mounds of corpses, to grow until now.
Watching the warriors' backs, she had sworn to become their strength.
But she was wrong.
