text: [Themes: grimdark fantasy, drama]
  
  The mountains may be difficult to travel, but they seem safer. You have a fear of taking the wrong step in the swamp and sinking into its murky depths. That thought alone gives you chills. No, the mountains must be safer. At any rate, they will be drier. As for the road, you figure that's where the adults would look for you first. You pat yourself on the back for being clever enough to take the path least likely for a little girl.
  
  At first the going isn't so bad. The balmy smell of the mountain trees is rather invigorating, and you keep up a brisk pace for the better part of an hour. However, it doesn't take long for you to realize that this is no short walk through the village. Soon your short legs start to tire, and this idea doesn't seem so brilliant after all. Still, you'd rather take your chances in the wild then go back and face Father's anger.
  
  Adjusting your pace, you continue going. Although it is starting to get dark, and you're getting a little scared, you aren't lonely. Company has never been comfortable for you, and the uncertain sounds of the forest seem more benign than the chastisements of the village women, the shouting of the men, or the teasing of the children.
  
  A few minutes later, you change your mind. A horrible scream echoes through the forest. It sounds like a woman who is either very angry, or very afraid. Badly startled, you freeze in your tracks, not sure what to do. A few seconds pass and you hear the scream again. Maybe the woman is in need of help. On the one hand, it might let you prove that you're not such a bad person. On the other hand, you're just a child; what can you do to help if a woman older than you is in danger?
  
  Staying still like this probably isn't a wise idea; you need to decide what to do.
  
  > run back down the path.
  It occurs to you that a child could hardly fend off anything that would make a grown woman scream so. But it also occurs to you that leaving the woman to her fate would be cruel. Despite how unkind the villagers have been to you, you have no evidence that the woman is one of them. Although you are frightened of what Father will to do you, you feel that the only course of action now is to run back to the village for help.
  
  You pelt down the mountain as fast as your little feet can carry you. Part way down you trip, fall, and skin your knee. But you hear the scream again behind you and force yourself to stand back up and keep going. Finally, bleeding and out of breath, you run back into the village. The first person to spot you is an elderly man from the village: a retired miner. Speaking harshly to you, he grabs you by the arm and escorts you home. Despite his age, you're sure he grabbed you hard enough to leave a bruise. You haven't been able to catch your breath enough to tell him of the danger, but by the time he's at your front door, you manage to blurt out your warning.
  
  "There's a woman in danger in the mountains!"
  
  "How do I know you aren't just telling lies?" asks the man, knocking on your door.
  
  "I wouldn't do that!" you protest, though feebly. You don't expect him to take your word for it. At this point your father opens the door and looks down at you, his face flushing with anger. He takes your other arm and is about to drag you inside. By the look on his face, you know you're getting a whipping.
  
  "No, you have to go save the woman in the mountains," you say, your voice trembling.
  
  "What is she talking about?" Father doesn't even dignify you by asking the question directly.
  
  "She claims there's a woman who is in danger in the mountains. I don't believe it."
  
  You look up at Father, and he stares back at you, his brows drawing together. For a few moments you just shake in his grip and are tempted to say nothing further. But then your conscience kicks you and you sigh.
  
  "I'm telling the truth; you have to believe me." You don't know what else to say. At first it looks like your father is going to strike you right there, but then, to your surprise, he lets go of your arm.
  
  "Go to your room and stay there; I'll organize some men to search." You start to look relieved, but then Father adds, "If I find that you are lying, your punishment will be most severe." At this you don't even flinch; you know what you heard.
  
  Still, the waiting is rather stressful. A few hours tick away, by your best guess, before you finally hear the door opening again. Father's heavy footsteps on the stairs makes you feel a little ill; what if you were wrong? When he opens the door, you almost feel your heart stop. His face is so grim.
  
  "There was no woman in the mountains," he says, his voice bland. Instinctively you hunch up, already imagining the whip lashing against your back. "You were wrong, but in this you can't be blamed. The sound you heard was a cougar. It shouldn't have been so close to the village. A couple of the hunters have killed it. If you hadn't told us, the farmers might have lost precious livestock, or it could have even attacked some young children." He pauses, as though struggling with any further words. "Thank you."
  
  You blink a few times and then slowly relax. That was probably the kindest Father has ever been to you. Of course, the moment doesn't last long; after his thanks he abruptly turns away and closes the door, leaving you to yourself.
  
  The next few years show much improvement in your life. Father speaks to you more often, though his words are still stern. He's still very strict and critical of you, but a lot of the disdain seems to have washed away. The villagers react similarly for the most part. Although they are far more polite to you now, you still feel a distance. You're not sure if it's because you can't forgive them, or because they simply can't unlearn their behavior completely. Either way, it leaves you feeling lonely, but at least you don't have to worry about people throwing dirt at you anymore.
  
  Life turns into something quiet, dull, and repetitive. It's good that you're no longer a complete pariah, but you still feel that there is a lot lacking in your life. The villagers' politeness never evolves into true kindness. While the name calling and blaming has stopped, you never really make any friends. As you grow older and the people around your age start pairing off, you remain alone.
  
  At first you have hope that this will change. But then one morning you wake up and realize that you're older than your mother was when she left. Surely if you were to do anything untoward it would have been before now.
  
  By the time your father dies, when you're about 24, you're pretty much considered 'on the shelf'. You live alone for a short while, but after a couple of years, you fear that the loneliness will consume you. So you sell your house, which is a fine structure, for a decent amount of money and move in with a family to be a general house maid. While it isn't optimal, it is better than keeping house for yourself. In a few more years the family you are staying with realizes how dull you are, and spread a few kind words to the fellow villagers. This improves things a little, but you never do find romance. Even worse; you never find out what your mother did to cast such a shadow on your youth.
  
  When you finally die you are still in the service of the same family that hired you on years ago. You never did anything remotely interesting in that time, and when the second generation of that family had grown up, your shame had pretty much disappeared from public discussion. The younger generation was kinder to you because they didn't know about your past, but by then it was too late. Your life was comfortable, but ultimately failed to be noteworthy. At least you are buried with decorum and kind words are put on your tombstone. Some people don't even achieve that much.
  
  This is the end of your tale, and many people have done far worse.