Chapter 3
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One way or another, Jihlem and Share knew that this would be the last dinner they ever shared with their daughter in their hut. Faerun was a beautiful place, Mystera was rumored to be a desert wasteland. It was not something they were looking forward to. But if they wanted to keep Tifre out of the Harper's Order, they have to flee there. They were uncertain what they should do. It would be a hard life for Tifre either way. If they made it, it was mainly made of barbaric tribes who killed each other for scarce resources. It seemed unlikely that these tribes, the orks and trogoladites, would be particularly welcoming of these outsiders. Tifre might not survive. At least if the Harpers took her she'd be alive. If they were to get caught fleeing, the Harpers would execute Share and Jihlem, and they would take Tifre anyway. Ofcourse in the confusion of a fight, maybe an accident could happen to the baby. One thing convinced Jihlem and Share what they should do. They had grown up seeing others who'd turned their babies over to the Harpers, they were never the same. They tried to move on, live their lives, even have other children. But they could never forget what they had done, the pain was always in their eyes. Jihlem and Share decided that they would rather die than live with that kind of pain. They would sneak away in the dead of night, hope that their oracles were asleep at the switch. They packed only what food and blankets they could carry. They wore all the shirts they could, they had few belongings to leave behind. One way or another they would be a family, together for the rest of their lives.