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To my little babies,

I was born as a girl named Hope, with 2 brothers, the Sochi twins. We loved each other, and since we were living in a village that was growing into a empire, we could have the jobs we wanted to. I was 9 when discovered my passion for hunting, so I went north trying to spot some wild animals.By the time I was 14 I found a old man who passed his family's knife to me. After years hunting wild animals, it was time to return home.
When I arrived home, by the age of 16, my uncle was the first person to recognize me and so he ran inside calling everyone to see who was back. The village made a great feast to celebrate my return, as most of them did not believe that small girl could have survived those years in the wild. I also discovered that I had a sister now! But I was told, mom died a few years ago. My sister told me she died giving birth to another girl, who unfortunately, could not resist and died with mom.After seeing one of the Sochi twins, my older brothers, my sister took me to mom's grave, where I said one last goodbye to mom and told my sister I was going back to the hunt, but this time I could not tell for how long. My proud uncle, who was an old man by now, gave me his wool backpack and said: "I am now old and fragile, so take this backpack with you, I am sure it will be useful".
And so I went, to face the wilderness with my blonde hair, a bow in the hands and a knife and a pie in my uncle's backpack. Little knew I about the surprises life had reserved to me. By the time I was 18, my first baby was born. She was beautiful, my beautiful Claire. Named after the bright white ice in which she was born, I gave her my white wool coat. But when she was a small child, while I was teaching her about the wild animals, I noticed she did not really like our lifestyle. It was time to return home, to give Claire a different life. After nine months of journey back home, my second baby was born, my small Guy. Named after his cleverness, he would be the next bearer of the bow that kept us alive all this time. After a few weeks, it was time to keep going home with my little children. Only one year after Guy came to my arms, my third child was born, he was Delano, the strong one. Named after the swamps we were in, he would be the next bearer of the knife that kept the famine away from us all this time.
By that time, as we did not have a lot of food left, I could only feed my child and hope that something would be left for me to eat. We needed to get home fast. After 6 months sleeping without knowing if I would be able to feed my child on the next morning, we were finally only a few days of walk from home. I started to feel my legs trembling with every step that I took, that was the result of weeks eating the bare minimum, to keep my children healthy. As I got to the village, my body collapsed on the ground. We were finally home. My children were safe.
I died at the age of 21, without knowing if my brothers or my sister still alive, but happy knowing my children could grow up with something to eat.

Love,

Hope