The female had known it was a stupid move, that she would likely get herself killed. But she had needed to tell someone, she had needed to do something. She hadn't known the young girl very well, but they had known who she was. They hadn't done anything though, hadn't confronted her, hadn't asked why she stayed. She thought she might know why the girl had stayed. She thought she might have done the same.
She had never really known her past, who her parents were. All she knew was that until the age of six she had lived with a friend of her mother, who had left her with the woman. But when Josline had gotten sick and died she had been out on the streets, where that old hag had found her and "taken her in". If she had wanted she might have asked Josline's friend Marline to help her, might have asked if she knew who her mother was. But she had been sad, and she hadn't wanted to look back.
She supposed now she was forcing upon that young girl what she herself had pushed away. But this young girl could be the key to taking back her home. The home that was all Josline had ever told her about her mother or where she came from, all she could really remember about Josline herself anymore. Josline, who told tales of their glorious homeland, Josline who had lain dying in that bed, using her last breath to say
"Return to our homeland child, see your great beginnings and-" and then there had been a fit of coughing that had subsided into silence that held no answers on where to start. So now she was sitting here, in a rebel camp, surrounded by her people. So how did she feel so lost?