Chapter 350: The Exiles 2
When the sun reached its zenith—veiled behind thick, brooding clouds—the exiles arrived at a remote settlement known as Ma-Anyag.
The town took its name from a nearby peak, a strikingly symmetrical mountain in the Alta-Sierra range. Unlike the jagged cliffs that dominated the range, this mountain stood apart, a perfect cone of lush greenery that gave the illusion of serenity. Its gentle incline invited the imagination to picture a child’s joyful slide down its slope. To its side loomed the rugged walls of Mount Ponte, casting long shadows over the land like ancient sentinels.
The road followed by the exiles was beside a river, and there was an old oak tree whose canopy covered a large area, providing a suitable spot for them to rest for a quick lunch.
The prisoners were each given a piece of bread and a small amount of water. The bread was very hard; it could scratch one’s throat if swallowed hastily.
Despite his stern demeanor, the captain of the guards had not yet lost all sense of compassion. He permitted the prisoners’ families to provide food and water, choosing not to confiscate the small offerings they managed to bring.
Atalia’s servant distributed a food pack wrapped in a cleaned banana leaf to the five men of the Norse family. It contained a medium-sized bread with a meat filling. As a gesture of goodwill, she gave the first pack to the captain.
When she turned to General Odin and handed him his portion, their eyes met briefly. In that flicker of connection, she caught a glimmer of the man he once was. He nodded with a quiet "Thank you," the words roughened by fatigue and pride.
She lingered the longest with Percival, who looked like a shell of his former self. He was greatly impacted by the ordeal, which left an emotional and psychological scar on him.
"Things will get better," the servant said gently before handing him the wrapped food and the bamboo tube filled with water.