Obstacles In Her Path

As morning passed by, Shalia was sitting in the tent with her wooden comb and dagger out which she had kept in her bag for most of the journey. Her hair in these hot and sandy conditions was constantly braided in two or three sets to keep things as neat as she could, though clearly as she combed through the frizzy, black waves with caution, it hadn’t kept as well as she wanted. A day or two had gone by where she couldn't be bothered to deal with them. Sand grains found themselves caught in the twists. Some knots too tough for the carved wooden teeth nestled deeply into her locks.

And one by one with the blade held firmly, a handful of the dark hair clumps varying in size fell to the ground. All without hesitation. Cutting away mistakes and doubts. Sawing off the various torments this place subjected her to. Separating past and future.

The gritty sand, stinging sun, dry air, scratchy throat, parched lips, an aching soul. The girl that did betray her.

By now she had accepted that in some shape and form, Islana broke their trust-- intentional or not. Shalia protected her where others would hurt. Gave her shelter and food when it was available. Lifted her when she was down. Let her make some choices for herself and explore the Armat market on her own despite how that turned out. And yet, through all they shared, all the traumas and heartaches, the vulnerability Shalia had shown to someone that greatly for the first time in so long…and still she was betrayed. Offered so much of herself for it to be gone by the morning.
For whatever reason drew her into the desert--and Shalia was certain now it had to do with the fireside conversation she had missed-- Islana was still a possession of Shalia's. Amastan showed great disapproval toward the girl returning with her tail between her legs after her abduction. It only made sense that whatever words were shared between them caused her departure. It had to be that.
But to Shalia she was becoming more than a thing picked up by chance and carried on as dead weight. That was evident. But now after some reflection, she understood how to make herself feel. To use that energy and turn it into something else like she did with her magik. How to march ahead and leave it all in the dust. Her time of grieving and frustration over the turn of events had passed with the melting of her ice spikes, and now she needed to move forward like she always did. Forge ahead no matter the circumstance. The redhead she shared the past few tender weeks with was dead and the great mountain witch was getting over the heartbreak gradually.

~Maybe she was dead weight after all. So troublesome, so disarming. Hmm.~

Hair like that…she should have known. Fire was never any good to her, and maybe that dancer with the burning sticks back at the feast was a veiled warning.

“Fosiamarluuk,” she muttered under her breath with a grimace. Fire devil. Come to take the wind out of her sails, to melt her glaciers into the sea. It worked for a little while, too. She hadn’t held the same vigor or fortitude when the girl was around to soften her, but she did remind Shalia of all the things she missed about real companionship, creating a harmony with someone, and what it was like to finally have some place to belong with people who cared.
Where she once saw Islana as a capable and promising young woman, she would now only think of her as the small corpse of a girl buried in the dunes that swallowed her like a coffin. What a shame. She really did have potential.

Shalia stared down at the dagger and felt its smooth form under her thumb. Then her eyes traveled to the damage she had done to her hands and the big, nasty bruise around her finger where she had left the jade ring on through the evening. It sat unscathed by the brutality and smooth as ever. Jiyn really sought out a fine craftsman for it, didn’t he? A soft smile tried to form at the memory.

If she hadn't busted and bloodied her knuckles the night prior, she would have pricked the tip of the dagger to her index finger to remind herself that yes, I am still human. Yes, I still feel pain. Yes, I still have a little sanity left in me. Yes, I still bleed the same.
She could screw her head on straight about the mission now that Islana no longer needed to be paid mind, but the woman would continue to harbor feelings of resentment toward the situation regardless. One of the feelings that kept her grounded, motivated.

~Ah, resentment, my old friend. Impeccable timing; I’ve missed you!~

She stood after putting the comb away, tucking the dagger into her waistband and twisting her hair into multiple braids again. Limb by limb she stretched out slowly, savoring a moment of normalcy as hair care and readying her body for the day were staples in her village life. Shalia didn't intend to spend extended time outside, so she she left the robe and scarf off before exiting the tent to approach the pond.

As she did, the camp was still plagued by a cloud of gloom and quiet. Uncertainty. The Ozainae still grieving. The Aghul growing bored, irritable, and once more taunting or wrestling each other until the sun parted their fun. And when it did they resorted to playing a hand-eye coordination game that Shalia noted was popular among the younger clansmen, as well as another older game with pebbles and rocks substituting the small bones and animal teeth in the mountains.
They sat in a circle outside of her tent doing that now with their weapons laid down, and it brought her ease and a sense of joy to see them finding ways to entertain themselves. The once-injured guard was faring well, as expected. She knew that like herself they were greatly upset in missing the plains conquest, and being drawn out into the desert with nothing to keep them busy. Given an escort mission while their clan hunted for glory and blood and made history. The witch wasn't sure how they didn't lose their minds with all the time to kill and fear of missing out.

She knelt beside the oasis that had reduced slightly in size, but any sand that lingered in the water had sunken to the bottom by now. She scooped a handful up to drink and then proceeded to rinse her face of sweat and dirt. Shalia flicked some water over her body before turning her attention to the reflection on the water.
Staring back was a blurry figure with strands of hair sticking out and a darker complexion than she was ever used to, with vibrant eyes peering into the shallows. If there was any upside to the sunburn it was that in result she looked like less of a sore thumb compared to the natives, even if it wouldn't last forever. She frowned.

It was difficult to recognize herself like this.