I could hardly see anything. Thick fog surrounded me, wherever I was, and the air was cold, making me shiver. The thought of moving around so I didn’t freeze occurred to me more than once, but I didn’t want to get lost in the middle of nowhere. Not only was the fog chilly, but it was too thick to know for sure where it was safe to walk. For all I could tell, I would be headed straight for a cliff.

This was rather inconvenient, to say the least.

I stood up to try and see anything for one last time, before I gave in to the weather. It was fortunate that the night before, I had stopped at a group of boulders that were strangely, yet handily arranged. The largest went above my head, and the smallest I was able to sit on. There was space between most of them, big enough for me to rest in. Funnily enough, there was a big, flat rock situated almost perfectly on top of two other rocks. If need be, I could have protective shelter. It was somewhat warmer, too. Like friendly, welcoming arms, the space between the stones seemed the only sensible place to wait out the fog. Yawning, I crawled inside, curling up in my heavy coat, full of warmth and more protection. It was then that I began to think, about everything.

My name could not be spoken. My real name, anyway. The language had been forbidden when the island had been conquered. Even though not many knew who I was in the first place, it was not a normal name, and would most likely not be accepted. Since I was four, I had been referred to as Sarah, because it was a sensible name, or so the Anelines said. They said a lot of things, the Anelines, and expected anyone to believe everything they said, just because they were supposedly educated and civilized. Behind closed doors, my family had continued to use the old language. There was only me, my twin brother (Zaelnum, though he was called Connor), and our mother and father. Nobody would tell the authorities on their own family, surely? There was no possible reason for them to do such a thing, it seemed. Families just didn’t turn on each other like that. That’s how it had always been, until dear cousin Isabelle (by now I had forgotten her real name; she never let any of us use it) came for a visit. How I wish now that she had never gotten to come. It was she that reported us to the appointed Anelinian authorities. Because of her, Zaelnum and I had had to flee. I never found out what happened to our parents. That was why I had set out on this big journey in the first place. I had been small, little more than five years old, when I left the island. 10 years had passed, now, and the Anelines had slowly succeeded some of their power over the island. I could return now, and, maybe, reunite my family. Before I could really do that, though, I would have to find my brother again. We had become separated a few years ago. I hated to think this about my own brother, but he had always been the weaker of us. Maybe I just jumped into things too quickly to pay much attention to if he was brave or not. I couldn’t remember anymore. Too much had happened.

If only the Anelines hadn’t felt a need to invade our island.

Druuishca was the island’s name, and we, everyone who originally inhabited it, were called the Druuicians. The legend said that long ago, our ancestors had dedicated their lives to searching for a land to call their own, and after being tossed for ages on a stormy, restless sea, the island appeared out of the darkness and saved them. So we lived there, for as long as anyone can remember. We never did anything to anyone, so nobody had a reason to bother us. As times became more modern, attempts were made time and time again to establish some sort of a government, and each one failed, if it ever got off the ground in the first place. Aneline, a larger country on the mainland, expressed a concern for us, and claimed they wanted to help us establish order and a government. Of course, they never mentioned it being a trap. It wasn’t as if anyone in Druuishca thought that the Anelines would completely take over and ruin our lives. We had been so stupid. If only someone would’ve seen something, said something to keep us from being so naïve. None of this mess would have started to begin with. Oh, if only. The Anelines had seized control over our small island, declared our own language forbidden, made our children go to their schools and learn their culture; almost everything we didn’t want to do, they made sure we had to do it. We were prisoners on our own land, our own Druuishca.

Now, I didn’t know much about the island. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was, now. Somewhere on the mainland, but where… I had no idea. The air had too much moisture in it for me to feel comfortable about the idea of taking out my map. I didn’t want any of the lines to have a chance to smudge, or some other unnecessary mishap that they might go through. When I looked out from between the rocks, it didn’t look like the fog had any intentions of letting up soon, and even with the structure all around me, the temperature was still iffy. I dug through my pack and removed a sphere, holding it close and accepting the warmth that radiated from it. The sphere was a fire sphere, orange and warm. The cold had made its temperature drop as well, so it wasn’t as hot as it could potentially be, and I didn’t have to hold it with my special gloves. I smiled, as I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep. Hopefully when I would wake up, the fog would have lifted, and I could move on from the rocks.