The foreign land grows bigger as we approach. It is beautiful. But we shouldn't be here.
"Satomi," my father says as he places his hand on my shoulder. I continue to gaze at the approaching land mass. He knows how I feel. We don't belong there. We belong home. We deserve the damned land we destroyed; it was of our own actions. We shouldn't be in this new place, we shouldn't destroy it. I don't want to bloody it's soil as we did at home. I don't want to strike tragedy upon this place.
"Come. We've almost arrived. You must gather your things."
I continue to stare, neglecting to follow my father. I know I've angered him. But I can't help myself. I can't draw myself below the decks to prepare for this disaster.
My dark red curls blow with the sails as the wind picks up. I wish we would never arrive.