Four days. It had been four days since Cameron began her journey. It had also been four days since she had seen any signs of life, other than a caravan of thugs her people had warned her of long ago. The tales included kidnapping, slavery, and torturing for information, and the flag that rippled in the wind as they plodded along assured her that it was them. When she saw group roughly a quarter mile out through her pair of binoculars, she camouflaged herself in the terrain surrounding her for an hour until she was sure they had moved along. That was when the realization hit her that she should probably have planned this out better. Walking north was not the most elaborate scheme she had devised, but given the short amount of time she had, she did not see a better option.

Four days since a decent meal. Each night she had camped, she was able to snag a rodent or a lizard but had to force herself to consume it between the dry heaves. The standards for cuisine weren't not high by any means where she came from, and she did not consider herself to be picky, but the meat she prepared almost seemed worse than not eating all together. A small water bottle with a filter on the top saved her from certain death, but purification was surprisingly not the issue for her. It was finding the water itself. Her roles in the village never prepared her to be out in the world on her own, navigating her way to New York, or even hunting and gathering. No. Nothing in the village prepared her for this.

A tattered statue of liberty had finally graced the skyline after the seemingly infinite trek, and the sight alone brought a tear to Cameron’s eye. She wasn’t even quite sure what to do with it, but the glimmer of hope that the image instilled in her was enough to keep her momentarily positive. The silver box that had made the journey with her began to feel like a 50 pound weight, and once she found the right hands for it, the burden would be lifted off of her. Or at least, she hoped. How would she know who could she trust out here? They said she would feel it when the one meant to receive the box, which the vagueness of that statement alone was enough to make her paranoid.

When she finally made it to the heart of the city, she was utterly exhausted. The thought of trying to find a band to take her in for the night was overwhelming, and when she found a quiet, empty alley to lay down in, she nearly collapsed to the ground. The large backpack that overpowered her small build when she wore it served as a pillow, and she nestled the box closely as her eyelids became too heavy to keep open any longer. She drifted off into a deep sleep, until the sound of a voice jolted Cameron awake.

She popped up from her sleeping position and immediately grabbed for the knife holstered on to her thigh. “Don’t come any closer!” she yelled with a voice hoarse from the journey. It had been a while since she had to use it. She used her feet to scoot herself across the alley wall, creating more distance between them. The hand that wasn’t holding the knife gripped the box tightly, causing her knuckles to turn white. She blew a piece of black hair that had fallen in her view while keeping her eyes on the man in front of her. “Who are you?” she questioned, her volume a bit lower, while remaining ready to attack. Although it was relieving to see someone, the stories she had heard of people outside of the village led her to believe that it was a dog eat dog world, especially in New York.