Cursed family

Eli stood out like a sore thumb on the bustling streets of New York City. His worn leather clothing, adorned with strange symbols and markings, drew curious glances from passersby. They whispered to each other, pointing and staring at the young stranger who looked like he had just stepped out of a history book.

Eli's eyes scanned the crowded sidewalks, feeling like a relic from another time. He had never seen so many people in one place before. The noise, the smells, the towering skyscrapers – everything was overwhelming.

As he walked, Eli's thoughts turned to his family. Where were they now? Were they safe? He felt a pang of loneliness and homesickness, missing the familiar forests and fields of Ashwood.

People brushed past him, hurrying to get somewhere. Eli watched them, feeling like a ghost hovering on the fringes of their lives. He had never felt so alone, so lost.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he thought about his family, about the life they had left behind. He wondered if he would ever see them again, if he would ever find his way back home.

The city lights blurred together as Eli's vision began to blur. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of despair that had settled over him. He had to keep moving, had to find a way to survive in this strange new world.

But for now, Eli just stood there, a small, lost figure in the midst of a bustling city, his heart heavy with sorrow and his spirit crushed by the weight of his loneliness.

Meanwhile, Ava stumbled through the dusty streets of Chicago, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. She had been walking for hours, but every building and street looked the same to her. She was lost, alone, and scared.

As she turned a corner, Ava slipped on a patch of mud and fell hard onto the dirt. Her clothes were stained and dirty, her hair disheveled. She struggled to her feet, brushing off her clothes as best she could.

But as she stood up, Ava noticed a group of people staring at her. They were dressed in fine clothes, their faces filled with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

One of them, a tall, thin man with a cruel smile, stepped forward. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "What do we have here? A runaway slave, perhaps?"

Ava's eyes widened in horror as the man reached out to grab her arm. "No, I'm not a slave," she protested, trying to shake off his grip.

But the man just laughed. "Oh, really? Then what are you doing here, dressed in rags and covered in dirt? You look like you just escaped from a plantation."