The Orchid | Chapter One

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Blood seeped from the soil beneath the roots of our trees. The sky blackened during the brightest hours of the day, and the people of the realm collapsed into a delusional state of desolation.

Being a direct descendant of the moon folk, the wrath of the Queen Mother after Eleanor’s disappearance forced all of Earth’s water currents to redirect themselves. Punishing the people to sustain a tremendous period of drought until Eleanor was returned to her high throne beneath the constellations.

Three months after the Queen vanished, those of us who survived had to do terrible things to find and gather water. All of the known and reachable rivers receded to the ocean, and all of the lakes and ponds on the continent were nearly completely dry - exposing the alien terrain of their once vibrant bottoms. When we did find a viable source, it was only after days and days of rigorous digging deep into the earth where vast wells with no escape routes waited to be discovered. Unfortunately the wells were extremely rare. We only found four.

Many have died.

We pleaded and offered great sacrifices to the moon, but she refused to return the currents until Eleanor was found. But that was the mystery no one could solve. Eleanor truly did vanish in the night. No one knew what happened or she went, and what was worse was that there was no clear indication of kidnapping or. The moon folk were a special and extremely ancient people. We, The Folk of The Orchid, had always been their earthly servants. Mining and landscaping the land for resources in preparation for the prophesied cosmic migration. Then to be accused of being responsible for Queen Eleanor’s disappearance, our purpose in life fell into darkness.

Hot shadows crept across the acres of dead grass like a horned viper hunting on the desert sand. The blackened sun cooked the dry air entering my lungs, searing my throat with every breath. My leather canteen pathetically sloshed with the warm trickles of a single sip of sour water and my food rations of salted pork and wheat bread were nearly spent. My companion had a small reserve of black berries and cinnamon bread in her pack, but we were trekking through the valley's dead zone which meant finding animals to hunt or fresh fruit to forage was not an option. The Black Forest was still a day's walk away, so we needed to save as much as we could until we found an underground well of water.

After another hour of sloshing through hot mud from the layers of decayed vegetation, my companion desperately sucked on a piece of the cinnamon bread - trying to produce saliva which she could swallow to ease her throat.

The air was hot and it made breathing a dangerous act. The green clothes around our faces helped protect our skin from burning, but it failed at protecting our lungs. I wanted to encourage her to save the bread, but the prospect of death weighed heavy on our minds so I allowed it.

I scanned the horizon until I spotted what we had been searching for. A glittery, onyx mirage shimmering within the scorching haze. The Black forest. Under those conditions, I knew we still had at least half a day of walking before reaching the tree line. The odds of surviving seemed minimal, but we had no choice. Underground wells have only and have always been found in the coniferous forests surrounding our valley. We didn’t call the barren wasteland we were stuck in the dead zone for nothing.

Needing to take advantage of time, I turned to instruct my companion to put the sugary bread back into her pack and continue walking. As the words crept up the back of my throat, a jagged arrow plucked itself into the dense soil beside me. Two more landed directly behind Jossy’s heels. Primal screams and cackles echoed across the charred grass and I saw a pack of wild Orchid Folk hunting us with poisoned arrows. Maddened by drought and cannibalism, we were no longer kin. We were prey. We were food.

Neither of us had any formidable weapons save for my dagger which was only lethal in close quarter combat. Considering we were heavily outnumbered, the double-edged blade would only cut through so much flesh before ultimately being overrun.

Our choices were limited yet seemed clear and obvious. There was only one thing we could do. Run.

If it wasn’t for our mile head start, our slow moving carcasses would have been caught and butchered in short order. Luckily, when you find yourself running for your life, your adrenaline takes center stage and you can find yourself performing the impossible.

As soon as we hit the tree line we knew we couldn’t stop moving. Yes, we had the protection of dense cover, but we needed to use it to our advantage. Our attackers were savagely bloodthirsty and had become more beastly than human. It was a horrible mutation, but it did however give us the intelligent advantage. They were under the blind impression that they were the ones hunting us when in reality we were the ones hunting them.