I am Running Bear's sister. I do not know why he calls himself of that name, but he forbids me speak his true name. I chose to run with him because of the darkness that is within my father. I shall now tell you a tale of our family's downfall, and why it is so important he never find us.
About seven cycles ago, my father came home with some words written on a piece of paper. He said they were from a young boy passing through, a boy with no hand. He said that the had been divinely inspired to pass along a legend long forgotten, and had lost his hand in pursuit but gained enlightenment. He refused to give his name, calling himself only "The Emissary". Father read these words and soon began to act very strangely. He would remain awake late at night, rereading. He would go out into the night and sometimes not return until daybreak. At first he seemed fearful of the night, but as time passed on, he changed.
Our mother one night while he was gone stole the papers from a hidden hole on our wall. She read them herself, and the very next morning confronted him.I confess, I do not know what transpired in the conversation. But every night thereafter, my mother also began to consume herself in reading the words The Emissary left behind.
A cycle and a half later, the symbol started appearing. My father became more and more agitated, my mother, more paranoid. She began to refuse my father's company. She held a meeting with a few elders and told them what she had read and seen. They ignored her, of course. And then, father discovered the symbol in their bedchamber and perceived it to be the ultimate abandonment.
He forced her out of the house, on a journey of purification. Or, so he said.
But I caught him talking in his sleep, two nights before Running Bear and Zia returned. He mentioned the box dwelling, sending her there to be "Remade". And that he was sorry he had failed. Then he screamed, and awoke, and ran from the house.
I am resigned to the fact that Zia is right about this. That there is more to it than a broken life symbol. When something is worshiped as this figure was in the dwelling....It is bigger than a legend. But what if it is real? My father then serves a false god of death.