Before the Sunrise

Shortly before the sun rose that day, Shalia stretched quietly and sat up, looking to the sky as she did. Well, she certainly did not miss sleeping on the hard ground like that. Her bed back in the village was much more comfortable, but at least the cold night air was relaxing. She brought her hair forward and undid the braid before fixing it again with the ribbon woven throughout. Ignoring it and letting her hair go wild was absolutely not an option out here for a handful of reasons she took very personally.

After taking a long drink from her waterskin, she set it aside and picked up her shoulder guard, holding it delicately in her hands. She sat criss-cross on the hide that they each brought and unfortunately there was not one for Islana. Hopefully she was used to sleeping in less than favorable conditions. There would be long nights ahead of them if she was not.

The woman looked to be asleep and Shalia would not rouse her yet. There was still a little time before they needed to leave and she definitely needed the rest, poor thing.

Watching the sun rise and fall was very pleasant. It meant that all of the things you ran from were put even farther back into the past. That you survived another day. The mountain and Noraura hadn’t grown tired of her yet.

Her cold fingers traced the skull of the long-dead Naylmo and she could picture the way it glimmered silver in the sunlight, the moonlight, the firelight. Any way that it shone, it told a tale of beauty in death and every time she woke she would reach to look at it, fascinated always.
Koshnem told her it was younger than the adult they found it with, likely a child. He had only wanted the small one in order to make the armor, but clearly the older beast would not allow for that. The hunting party killed them both and made good use of the bodies. She would eternally bear what they bravely, if not impulsively reaped, and it fit her well--chilling, bewitching, and eerie.

Shalia stood and positioned it carefully over her right shoulder. Securing it was the tricky bit, but she had to rely on her muscle memory to do it without assistance or better lighting. It took her longer than usual, but at last the straps were secured around her bicep and the other to her top. Afterwards, she slowly rolled out her tense shoulders and raised a hand to massage the pain in her neck, nose wrinkling at the discomfort.
The white bearskin coat would not be worn today. Sitting on a horse for hours was not comfortable especially without a saddle, so perhaps she would place it underneath herself for some cushion. As they came closer to the Armat Caravanserai, it was bound to get warmer with the desert not far off. The thick fur would need to be removed anyway. As wonderful and sentimental as the coat was, exposed arms and a half-bare torso freed her body to the elements, keeping her cooler and a lot less sweaty.

The circlet was put back onto her head and absently her fingers fell over her eyebrow scars, continuing down to trace the symbols scrawled across her collarbones and shoulders in a clean line. Small, odd ones that on a winter evening she found herself marking onto her body as she had seen the Aghul similarly mark themselves, though she had the firelight and reflection of a blade for precision and not another person to assist. And these were not a branding of clan loyalty.
Their meanings were still a mystery beyond that. Might even mean nothing at all. But it brought her great ease to touch them anyway.

Shalia began to recall the stream of worried and frantic thoughts that swam around her head last night. The dried berries and hide sleeping roll were packed away as she did, readying up early to have time alone with her own mind.

Once the meeting subsided and they returned to the Aghul village, what would Islana's place be? How could Shalia guarantee her safety without constantly being around her like a babysitter? Would Islana feel afraid, turning one of the dogs on them or send Kaithak down for a few swift strikes? Would Koshnem be disappointed in Shalia’s deal if the woman had no real use to them?

~Ah, Koshnem. How I wish you to return soon, victorious as ever and coming off a blood-frenzy like never before.~

After the fighting in the plains came to a close, where would his sights be set then? What else was there to see as a threat?

Shalia knew that answer by the time she fell asleep.

The same people who were always a threat to her were inevitably going to inch closer to cutting down the Odonine, evident now that so many foreigners showed up in Fang and a foothill settlement was established. She was running out of time.

They all were.

As much as she advised the War Chieftain on the intensity and power that these foreigners held with their numbers and equipment, the stone city would try and swallow them whole until it succeeded. A restless empire across the sea, always hungry and never full. Every time they failed more soldiers would be sent over with blades and burning faith until the deed was done--the natives reduced to ash and forgotten names.

The true Arcadians were living through more history than they would ever realize. And there Shalia was, once a weary trespasser to them, standing right in the middle of it more than she could realize.

But when they came she would be waiting. Eyeing the horizon she once desperately ran from. Calling forth winter's chill and the wrath of the mountain to rid the land of their greedy persistence if it was the last thing she would do. And it might very well be. She would waltz with them as they lined up to meet their gods, and laugh in the face of their death because they would not go to dear old Zinheim or wander into his garden.

No, no. You played by her rules in her domain. Fang was Noraura’s land, the goddess whispered her game to Shalia, and their deaths would belong to the witch once they broke through the threshold of peace.

The two united as one, dipped in the blood of man, then and only then would she find ease.