Good morning Smár Einn!
Thank you to Mel and Jill!
.: Tuttugu ok Ein :.
"It's a big thing," I tell Josurr as we walk. He looks over at me. "Satanism," I clarify, even though he can't understand me. "It's this thing that is starting to sweep the country. The stories are… horrific." I shudder, remembering my father telling us accounts over supper one night. It hadn't reached our corner of Washington, but it sounded like it was just a matter of time.
I look up at Josurr who is watching me curiously. "I mean, I don't want to discredit your beliefs or anything," I say, feeling self-conscious even though there is no way he is following what I'm saying. "I like to keep an open mind, especially about belief. Lord knows I have my own questions and doubts when we go to church." I pause, shaking my head. "See, the thing is, Forks—that's where I'm from—is small. We so rarely get anyone new in town, which means ideas get old and they start to go a little funny, get a little stuck." I think back to some of the books I'd found in secondhand shops in Seattle or Port Angeles and how they had been so shockingly different from anything I could find in Forks.
"They aren't bad people in Forks," I say, glancing up at him. "Just a little ignorant." I go quiet, thinking about the words pouring out of me. Now that I'm talking, I'm like a faucet running. "I thought it was going to be my fate too," I murmur. "I wanted to get out, so desperately, but in my heart, I think I knew I was going to be trapped, just like everyone else."
I'm lost to my memories for a moment before jolting myself out of them. I look around the lush forest and afford Josurr a small smile. "But I got out, and now I'm here. Wherever that is."
Josurr just offers me a happy smile, the same smile he usually gives me. I sigh, turning my gaze up to the still silent trees.
"I don't know why I'm fighting to go back," I whisper. "There is nothing left for me there."
In my heart I know it to be true. Not my family, who rarely remembered they had two daughters; not any friends. I had no future in Forks, and it's like I've been set free.
It's liberating and a bit terrifying as well.
"I'm going to figure this out," I tell him quietly. "I'm going to make this work." I look over at him, and he glances at me. "I don't know where we are; I don't know when we are. I don't know your language or anything about your culture other than what your family has shown me, but it doesn't matter. This place, you all, have been more family to me than anyone else has. This is my home. You all are my home."