The days themselves lose meaning to Anther, except to signal the passing of time and the continuing days that he remains to be cursed.
Terrified of being discovered by another, he doesn’t dare to explore further from the river that he might lose direct sight of it; following the flowing water into the forest when his hunger surges, and following it back out again when he feels he’s moving too far from the safe territory of secluded higher slopes. Each night is spent beneath the stars, or huddled underneath a grove of peach trees; young and old alike; tall enough to shroud him in their leaves to keep off the wind and rain.
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