mr z. wanderer. cbd3 FIN

Another group fails you beneath the cool evergreen trees in the woods. Frozen to death. You taught them how to make fires, and told them that if they struggled you would not save them. You need the best group possible to journey with through the districts and eventually to Thirteen. Weakness is not tolerated, and success is the only option.

You don't remember what district you are from. Hell, you barely remember your own name. Maintaining a hidden identity from the travelers around you is a piece of information you use as leverage. They can't rat you out if they gather cold feet and run back to their homes. The trust needed to reveal your identity cannot be gained through practice sessions where you climb trees and practice fighting with wooden knives.

The promise that you've been given, that refugees from the districts can make it to Thirteen with the right sigils and keys from the land-dwelling districts, is the trust that you give them. Let them buy-in for a moment, rely on you and your instincts, your leadership as you get what you need to arrive at freedom.

Months later, you have a new group of recruits, excited and eager just like the last, who are prepared to escape the oppression that the districts and wilderness force upon them.

Though you suppose prepared might be overselling their skills. They have not seen hell yet, nor seen the challenges that wait ahead. They rely on the information you've given them to get through it.

Now, you must hope the information you've received is actually true.