Among heathens

Silina's eyes slowly opened as the dim light of the nearby fire slowly brought her out of her slumber. Her head was pounding and she felt weary boned. At first her vision was glassy and she could not see anything apart from odd shapes in front of her. Her eyes couldn't focus for a few heartbeats. She blinked the glaze of her eyes and stared at the ceiling of the cave.

A huge black spiral had been drawn to cover its surface. There was a violence to its wide charcoal loops, and she could almost sense the rage of the person who had drawn it.

She heard voices nearby. Foreign. She recognised Tarmen low tone as she propped herself on her elbow. Her eyes took on the scene. There was a man with dark hair laying close by and she could hear his shallow breath. The images painted on the cave walls, around her, spoke to her. Of legends and traditions, some half forgotten, some forbidden, some forever buried under the sands of the time.

She caught the triangular shape that was taboo to the Ozainae in several places, blending into the depictions. She frowned having no idea where she could be.

She looked at Tarmen speaking to another woman in a language she could not understand, and saw another woman standing in a corner of the crypt looking at a painting of a Black Hand and a Hammer.

These people were not Arcadian, let alone Ozainae. She had owed a blood debt to her saviour but as far as she was concerned that debt was now paid.

The Brotherhood were outcasts and shadowy figures that traded in death and were enemies of the Faith but they were Ozainae. These people, she had now idea who they were, only that their coming foretold doom to her people.

And having save them here she was now among the heathen...