Return of the General's Daughter

She gazed toward the west, and from her vantage point, she could see an expansive plain stretching endlessly, a vibrant tapestry of lush greens interspersed with earthy patches of brown. The sun bathed the land in warm orange light, highlighting the undulating contours of the terrain.

Towards the horizon, where the land seemed to end and kiss the fiery sky, she could see the unobstructed outline of the five hundred kilometers of Zandaya mountain range.

She remembered the last time she saw that full view was a month ago when she successfully climbed the Ourea peak at a record-breaking time of just half a day. She could only glimpse fragments of the silhouette formed by the rugged mountain ranges in the distance if viewed from the ground. The towering skyscrapers and sprawling residential buildings obstructed her view.

But now, she could see Zandaya in the same way that she viewed it atop Mount Ourea.

Lara stood rooted to the spot, a sense of disorientation washing over her. The surroundings felt both familiar and unfamiliar, as if she had stepped into a dream.

The tree in front of her used to be massive but now looked thin. She thought it was the same tree, but how could she encircle it with her short arms? When she was ten, the banyan tree was somewhere six children could hide from the other side without being seen.

So, It wasn't the grand tree of her childhood memories, the one she had climbed with abandon during sunny afternoons. Instead, this tree loomed differently, casting elongated shadows on the ground in the late afternoon.

But she couldn't mistake the Ourea peak. Wasn't this the very landmark at the crossroads where her life had taken a sudden, jarring turn just three days prior? The memory sent a shiver down her spine, blurring the line between past and present.

She looked at the narrow, dusty road filled with potholes from a recent rain. What happened to the asphalted highway that could accommodate three cars on one side and another three on the other? Where were the lamp posts?

Did she transmigrate?

She had watched movies about the zombies of the apocalypse, reincarnation, and transmigration, but weren't those just figments of human imagination?

"You? What are you spacing out there? Hurry and help with the fire!" Scarface barked, his voice cutting through the haze that surrounded her. He was angry to find her standing still, her eyes unfocused as if trapped in a distant memory.

Reya hurriedly pulled Lara and brought her under the tree.

One of the burly men dug a small pit in the ground and made it into a makeshift stove. The children, whose ages range from five to twelve, were asked to gather dry wood.

There were six men, each armed with a whip and sword. Two of them went to a nearby river to fetch water for cooking.

Reya used a big pot to cook porridge from three kilos of rice, which fed twenty children and her.

"Do you know what place is that?" Lara pointed to the tall terrain at the east.

"That's the Alta-Sierra, Miss. Our town is at the foot of that mountain range. I haven't been outside of Savadra, but I suppose that we are still in Northem because we haven't crossed the river Praya. My mother said that the border between Northem and Zura is a wide river flowing from Alta-Sierra, cutting across the vast plains of Centuria and Zandaya before it empties into the Westalis Sea." Reya explained.

Lara was suddenly enlightened.

So, indeed, she was at the same place but at a different timeline.

She struggled to remember the details from her history classes, trying to recall any mention of places called Northem and Zura, but nothing came to mind. A nagging thought crossed her mind: could it be that she had somehow traveled back to a time before the history of the country of Azuverda was documented? 

While she did not know what became of Northem and Zura, the names of the mountain ranges and the Westalis Sea remained the same.

Lara had a headache again, so she stopped thinking and focused on helping Reya stir the pot so the rice would cook evenly and the bottom part would not burn.

The children were given clay bowls, most of which were chipped. Three children shared each bowl. Since there were no spoons, they used sturdy leaves fashioned into spoons to scoop the porridge.

Some smaller children were slow and did not eat enough.

Lara noticed that the little girl sitting earlier near her feet did not even have a chance to scoop when the porridge in the bowl she shared with two others was gone in a blink.

She saw the little girl shed silent tears. Her big, black, pleading eyes darted around, but no one spared her attention. She was probably just seven.

Lara was taught to be heartless, but she remembered when her father left her in a small village for two days as part of her training. At the time, she was seven. Her father forced her to learn survival techniques in the woods. She should hunt and cook her food, but she was so scared that she could only sit outside the woods and cry.

A kind young lady found her and took her home. Their family was poor, and they lived in a dilapidated thatched house. They barely had enough to feed their family, but the young lady shared with her half of what little porridge she had.

Early the following morning, she left the thatched house. To thank the young lady for her kindness, she left behind a few hundred bills that she managed to save and hid in the secret pocket of her clothes.

Then she went back to the woods and started hunting for rabbits.

Lara breathed deeply. She approached the little girl and handed her the improvised spoon and half of her porridge.

The little girl looked at her with her big, dark eyes. Her lips formed the word thank you, but Lara heard no sound.

There were still more than seven spoonfuls of porridge left in the bowl, and the little girl just drank the porridge directly from the bowl without using the leaf spoon.

After the meal, most children returned to the carriage, curled up, and fell asleep.

A few older ones, including Lara, were bolder. They found a grassy patch beside the carriage and lay down to sleep. It was more like they had no choice. With the small space inside the carriage, sleeping was impossible.

Lara lay on the ground, the dry grass as her bed and her arms as her pillow. This was not the first time she had slept like this; she had experienced it many times before.

Reya removed her outer skirt, folded it several times, and passed it to Lara. With reddened eyes, she told her to use it as a pillow. Her Miss had suffered greatly.

Lara experienced a warm sensation swelling up in her heart. It was one of the rare moments when she felt that someone genuinely cared about her well-being.