Minte's POV

When I was twelve years old, I sat down with a notebook and planned my life. I was practical, so I knew that I wasn't going to be able or willing to stick to the strict script I had planned out, so I made around thirty different paths, all unique yet similar. Of course, The Disaster had to come along and fvck everything up. The Disaster was, in a nutshell, a complete revolt of the planet. Rivers and lakes flooded or dried up, hurricanes destroyed crops while severe droughts killed millions. Earthquakes racked through the entire planet, causing tsunamis. The official reason for this destruction was 'unknown environmental causes', but all of us who remained knew better. It was a punishment for the way we had treated the earth, for the decades of taking what we wanted without even hesitating to think about the consequences. Even those of us, like myself, who didn't believe that the earth had a conscience knew that it had been nothing other than repayment for how we treated the earth. If you know your Greek mythology, think of it this way: Gaea got super mad because puny little humans were destroying her, so she made bad stuff happen. That wasn't very nutshell-y was it? Billions of people died, and those who were left were grief-stricken and extremely confused. After the dust had settled, the rivers went back to their merrily flowing patterns, even the ones that had dried up. The fields were water-logged and irrigated, even those dried by drought. The soil was richer and more fertile than it had been since the days of the Sumerians. The land looked as is might have 15 million years ago, before people. Those who were left died or went into hiding. There were many basements where I was, in what used to be Kansas. We weren't as affected by the floods, and instead got droughts. We raided the basements of families we knew to be dead, then, when everything was in our possession, everyone started to turn on one another. I could have fought, and I would have won. I'm small, but I'm strong and quick. My parents taught me to throw knives in the hope that, in the event of an emergency, I would be able to defend and hunt for myself. Well, I got the defense part down, but the first kill I made, with my tiny little knife, was a young deer. She was small, and was almost too easy to hit, not being afraid of people the way the older ones were. I may have forgot to mention this, but the only animals that died were the domesticated pets. Anyway, killing a young deer at the age of seven years was enough to make me swear never to purposefully kill or fatally wound another living being for the rest of my life, and also became a strict vegetarian. Well, there goes the hunting aspect of knife-throwing, but I can still hold off an attacker. The no-kill thing doesn't apply when I'm under attack, but I still try to do as little damage as possible, preferring to run or hide, or convince them not to hurt me. I can be very persuasive at times. So I took to the woods, with my pack and horse. The horse was named Basil, and I'd had her since she was born. She was supposed to be a racing horse, but she just wasn't cut out for it and my parents allowed me to have her. I learned to ride on her, and she seems to love me. If anyone tries to touch her if I'm not there or without my permission, she's been known to bite hands off. If it's just me or if I tell her they're friends, she'll be as docile and friendly as a sleepy kitten. She even lets small children ride her, like my little three-year-old sister, Parsley. I managed to keep her safe through The Disaster, and she's been a little angel about it. She never cries and even tries to help when we settle down for the night. We've been heading west, guided by my little compass. Instead of learning to hunt, I learned how to tell edible plants from poisonous, and by now, I'm pretty good at it. Good enough to keep a three-year-old and a 18-year-old alive in the wilderness for, what... around four weeks now. Parsley will wake up soon. I start to pack up my blankets from around the spent campfire. By the time I'm done, Parsley is up and feeding Basil. I revive the fire, and venture into the woods. I wander for around ten minutes before finding a large pine tree. I pull out my thickest knife and scrape at the outer bark and peel of a large handful of soft inner bark. I go over to a peppercorn tree and strip off a few handfuls of berries. I look around, searching for anything to spice up the meal. Over there, orange definitely does not belong in this forest. I walk over and nudge away the branches.

So, how am I doing so far? I would love to hug anyone who votes on this story, but... yeah, I wouldn't have too many people would I? So please, vote and comment! I love to hear feedback and suggestions would be absolutely wonderful! Nothing is too big, small, or crazy! I will write almost anything. So, Bon Appetite!* 

 *Obscure French Chef/Julia Child reference, deal with it.