Rubbish.
Our people are dying. The Lamanites have won. They won years ago. They've simply been slowly killing us off. The king knows it. The general knows it. This is the last desperate stand. If we go to Cumorah, we will die. There is no other way. Everything those old prophets said has come true. We did not listen. I did not listen. And now our people will be destroyed.
No, I will not go to Cumorah. If we go, we will die. But if we run? Perhaps we will still die. But we may yet live. And so, we run.
We are safe. There are forty-three of us left in our little wandering band. There were others who tried, but we have waited as long as we can. To continue to delay could be deadly. Who knows if the soldiers will come looking for us.
We did not escape unchallenged. Samuel is dead. Nathan is dead. Lamah is dead. Hephtah is dead.
Someone alerted the soldiers to our plan. We were caught unprepared. I escaped with my wife, daughters, and two of my sons. Samuel fought so that we could be safe. Without him, we would all have perished. I watched from the cover of the jungle as my boy fought to free us. But there were too many, and he fell.
If we survive this wilderness and the ferocity of this enemy, they will be remembered.
We are hungry and tired. It is eight days since we left our village. Most of our provisions we left in our hurry to escape. There are only three bows and five swords among us. I have crafted a spear, but it will take time before I am able to use it for hunting. We eat berries as we find them and the leaves and roots of plants we know are safe.
The children tire quickly. Their little bodies are not made for such constant travel, but we must keep moving or risk being caught by Lamanites.
A band of Lamanite warriors crossed within a league of us yesterday. Hamath led as scout and turned our path to avoid them. We must continue south until we are out of danger. If they find us, they will destroy us.
I led our little tribe in prayer this evening as we camped. It was new to all of us, but we agreed it was right. I have known no God in my lifetime, but I have a memory that I now cling to. As a young boy I sat on the lap of my great-grandfather and he spoke of a man, a savior all in white, who visited our people many years ago. He spoke of the goodness that he taught and the blessings that he gave. He spoke of peace, charity, and love. He told of the prophecies of this man's birth, death, and resurrection. He told of mercy and repentance.
This memory I shared with our tribe. The prophecies of the destruction of our people were said to be from God. This man was said to be the Son of God. I have seen the truth of these horrifying prophecies. I must then conclude the stories are true. And if they are not? Can these -- my family, my friends, my people -- can they hurt from teaching the goodness and hope of my great-grandfather's savior? The stories can only heal us, true or not.
And so we prayed. We prayed for protection. We prayed for guidance. We prayed for forgiveness and knowledge. We prayed to survive.
We are forty-four! Zilpah has given birth to a little girl. This little Zara brings our tribe hope. We are lost in this wilderness, but we will survive. If little Zara could survive the turmoil of entering this new life, we can survive to enter ours.
Our scouts have seen no Lamanites, no villages, no sign of habitation in twenty-four days. And yet we do not feel safe enough to end our journey. Each morning we, the fathers of the tribe, gather in prayer to the God of my grandfather. He has kept us safe this far. I believe he has forgiven our ignorance and guides our progress. Tonight we will camp again, and tomorrow, he will make our pathway bright.
We have not traveled in five days. Two of our boys were injured on the hunt. It is truly a miracle the injuries were so few. Vanity and pride clouded the judgement of our boys. They are young and have surely learned that they are still weak.
We sent out seven of our boys to hunt. They refuse to admit which of them started the bragging and who put forth the challenge. I commend their loyalty to one another, though it does not outweigh their foolishness. Somehow a wager was made that a jaguar could be brought in for our sup. For a trained hunter, the take would be difficult. But not so for seven young boys who have only begun to learn the techniques they must acquire, the task is beyond thought.
I thank my God repeatedly for his intervention. Only his protective hand spared them their lives. They brought the animal down, but at a cost. Little Nathan will never walk again. We pray constantly that he will pass through this fever. Cayas will have a long recovery. He will no longer be able hunt or work in the fields. He will be lame the rest of his life. The others were luckier. More likely, they were simply less stupid.
We will remain here until Nathan either recovers his senses or passes into the next life. Whichever the Lord chooses, we will accept.
Little Nathan departed from this world early yesterday morning. We sang his passing all the day long. His brothers blessed him and his sisters dressed him with mourning flowers. His spirit has gone to be with our God.
And so we move on.
The rains have begun. There is sickness. Two already have passed. Lena delivered her son safely, but the fever took her not long after. The boy is small, but he has a strong will. He will be taken in and cared for by Zilpah.
We are worn. We have traveled many days, many more than we thought we would. But our God guides us and we look to him to help us to safety and rest.
A marmoset has joined our tribe. Little Chea found the poor baby frightened and cold. She brought him in to her mother and they fed and bathed him. Now he follows the child around as if she were his own mother. The little thing brings laughter and joy to our little ragged tribe. Only Moroni dislikes the creature, but that is only because he likes to steal his nuts at breakfast.
We have found our home. Our God has led us to this wondrous plain and here we will rebuild our lives. Our God has provided us with flowing water, fertile land, and a protective forest surrounding our hidden haven. The trees are filled with beasts to eat, the ground is fruiting abundantly. We will want for nothing, so long as we remember the Lord who brought us here, who delivered us from danger, who guided our hands, who showed us mercy and forgiveness, and who lifted our sorrows. He is the almighty and we will treasure his goodness always. We will pass our knowledge on to our children and they to theirs. I pray that they will remember him always and not stray as our fathers did. Then, when he comes again, we will be prepared.
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