Dear Son, Before I lose myself in the depth of all that’s unfolding here, let me ask how the tribe is doing. I hope everyone at home is doing fine.
Here goes: like you know, the journey began at the River of Deathly Surrender. We had crossed the Lake of Beginnings with our canoes. Then we approached the River of Deathly Surrender. It would be a misnomer calling it a river. It bore promises of the horrors of a violent ocean. Using canoes across this river would easily make us sitting ducks. Even though we approached the river en masse, we each had to board the ship individually. The ship was manned by spirits which though were of a different sort from the violent slave masters. We were all treated alike. No respect was paid to anybody. The tribe chief was asked to drop his royal war headgear. I felt sorry for the poor man. He was never even supposed to use anything else besides the Helmet of Salvation. The sorting out issues were the highlight, and some of the violent spirits came to grace the event. Unable to approach the ship, they contentedly hovered nearby seeming to enjoy watching us even dare to successfully board the ship. We may have paid them more heed if we didn’t have something even more difficult to deal with. Son, it was tough letting go of some of those loads:
Food provisions of self-dependence –plans we had made for ourselves banking on our supplies, on ourselves, to meet our needs. We would be banking only on the food aboard the ship. We would be learning to rely on the crew to provide our meals for us as at when they think we need it. You can understand how tough it was, knowing we would be completely dependent on strange beings to take care of our needs. We only knew they were not harmful as it were, but some of us who weren’t sure this was enough to trust them politely declined and stayed back;
Good look (or rather, good luck) charms and charismatic amulets. Impressive personalities and sweet talks did not tilt these spirit-guards one bit. I am not sure they will daze the warring spirits we are going to meet either. Don’t get me wrong, Son. You can keep your stunts seeing you might need them to woo your future wife;
(Using his discretion, the Enchanted Writer who was given access to these letters decided to pause his narrative here, to keep the readers from tiring out.