Daylight Dancer

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali had been busy for most of the day, reviewing various matters that required her attention as Clan Mother. She had got used to such obligations and duties in the past few months. She was grateful for the gods' blessings for the Clan at large, and was looking forward to seeing how stronger and more numerous the Undead Fires would become in the following years. It was good that all members put in their best efforts to make the group thrive in all aspects of the Clan's life.

The Beast Warden had made a quick pit stop by the baby fliers out of habit, before going to bring offerings to the gods, which she did on a regular basis, and today was one of such moments. After some heartfelt prayers, she had sensed Iss-Ka rush towards her, requiring the creature's full strength to sit quietly until her mistress was done. Anjali had nevertheless felt her Voritor's excitement and urgency through the bond that had only solidified since they had first met right during the days of the cataclysm.

Eventually, she turned to look at Iss-Ka, raising a brow in expectancy, knowing that the beast would be quick to make herself understand. With a swift movement, the lizard trotted to the Clan Mother, wrapped her tail around Anjali's wrist and tugged at it, before releasing it, making it clear the Clan Mother was to follow. The gesture amused Anjali, and piqued her interest. There was no fear from the beast, rather some gleeful mischief, which puzzled her. With a nod, she fell in stride behind the Voritor, as they promptly exited the caverns.

Anjali felt the excitement boom through the Force as she stepped outside, even before she heard the chanting or saw where the gathered clan members was located. Whatever was going on had more than Iss-Ka drawn.

Whatever was occurring was fascinating enough that it took a few moments for some of the sisters and brothers to let their Clan Mother pass through those who had formed a circle around a makeshift arena.

Her eyes fell upon her wife right away, admiring Cearia's fierceness and preciseness with awe. She had never seen her beloved fight as such. It shouldn't come as a surprise given the huntress's upbringing, and eventually path as a hunter, but she was nevertheless impressed. Life often kept them apart, and getting such opportunities was a treat, a small blessing among many.

As Cearia challenged her opponent to get up, chanting loudly echoed by the gathered Undead Fires, Anjali's piercing gaze moved to the one still on the ground. While her expression remained unchanged, she was shocked to see that her wife was fighting a male, the slave Khthonia had acquired during one of her scouting missions.

That was even more unexpected.

Captivated like the rest of the gathered assembly, Anjali felt Iss-Ka sit by her side, and she gently rested her hand on the lizard's head, communicating her thanks for having let her know about the spar.

There was no doubt that Cearia would win; but she was nevertheless elated to get to see her wife fight, learning more about her. And how the slave might survive would also indicate his potential as a night brother, if so adding value to the Clan.

[Kavan Siron]

Kavan had expected a parry and a quick counter attack, but she chose differently. He had already got back to his knees as he realized she was jumping away from him. There was little to no reason for him to keep a dirty low position, including his status of slave in the clan.

She was good, fast and precise, and that made for a solid opponent. By the time she stared at him, and shouted at him, he was getting back to his feet. The chanting and the gathered crowd were dull background perceptions, for his focus was on the woman before him.

He couldn't best her, but he wasn't going to beg for his life yet.

With no hesitation, he came at her with greater vigor, using his borrowed speared in a flourish whose pace quickened as he closed in on her. He was hoping he'd corner her against some of the bystanders so she would have no other choice but to jump away, which might allow him to pivot and stab at her mid-air.

[Spark Vallen]

Wincing, Spark nodded in reply.

This is as bad as that time I got hammered, he thought, when that frakking Aqualish thought it'd be funny to keep me drinking to distract me...

He groaned at the memory of that night and all that was associated with it.

No, Spark amended as he fought back bile, this is actually worse. That was a situation I could leave...

The Corellian pushed back from the kid, lurching away from the bout and the crowd, trying to put a little distance between himself and them, as if that would help his overwhelmed, confused senses.

"GYON OP EN GON DAUN!" he shouted in perfect Dathomiri (for a change), and then fell face forward, collapsing in the dirt just beyond the crowd.

[Cearia Tserta]

Like her opponent, Cearia's entire focus was was the fight. The chanting and cheers and the crowd amassing in great numbers were inconsequential to her, even if Iss-Ka had returned with the Clan Mother to witness. What mattered was seeing the skai slave prove his worth or more importantly, give him the opportunity to do so. The hunter was cognizant that her views of males was in the minority, but she always trusted her instincts. The crudely constructed spear, the proud and polite skai man engaging in enough conversation - it was possible his skills as a fighter from the stars could be useful to the clan.

He wasn't a disappointment thus far.

He accepted her challenge with a fighting spirit - getting to his feet and coming at her with increasing speed. His desire to back the hunter into the crowd was thwarted as she met him head on with a cry, attacking and countering his flourishes with speed and focus. He had been trained well wherever he came from, but he wasn't hardened by Dathomir or the brutish disapproval of a clan that forced a young sister to fight every day of her life to earn acceptance where none would ever come. Only when the world was cleansed by fire had she found a home among the nightsisters, a clan with a rival vision and power, but welcomed her with open arms - even earning the respect and desire of the Clan Mother who claimed her as mate. Cearia struggles remained a constant - noticeable to the Beast Wardens and her haiplana - but that remained buried during the fight. Insecurities had no place here.

Whether the skai slave was aware or not, Cearia kept him corralled in the middle of the circle. She was leading this fight and the hunter wanted to ensure that bystanders were not caught off guard by a stray shaft or spear head. It was known to happen at times during these battles, but Cearia wanted her people safe and if anyone was going to be hurt it was going to be the slave or her protecting the crowd from an accidental blow.

Their spears blocked with varying angles, bodies twisting and adjusting in half turns or spins, shafts slamming together low and high, circling the others weapon for an opening, or countering with a flourish in an attempt to disarm.

She jumped back to avoid a sharp jab and countered with a wide, low, swinging attack to keep Kavan on the defensive, and brought it over her head and down low to push him to counter. Anticipating his attack, Cearia side stepped and locked his weapon against her chest, holding it with one hand and used her leverage to fall back, forcing him to follow without ease of maintaining control of his weapon. To one side of the crowd it appeared that the Great Sister may have been injured since the spear tip was hidden from view. They cheered when she kept moving and watched her plant a foot down to halt their momentum, ducked under his spear, leaving a split second to take advantage of the moment.

Cearia kept a tight grip on both weapons for support and flipped forward with such speed that a boot was coming down right at Kavan's head ...

[Daca Tserta]

"Go see fisa. Healer. No stay." He should know where Sister Ashia was located. Even slaves were offered treatment if warranted and right now, Daca deemed it so.

"Ai op Yu sona." And she would check on him, after the fight.

She turned to watch the match just as Spark fell to the ground, his groans drowned by the clamoring cheers that only resounded even louder at seeing Cearia's sudden acrobatic display.

"Bash Em melon raun!!!" The sister next to Daca that didn't approve of her skai man was happy seeing Cearia beat up the other one.

Daca's face widened with awe and joined in the adulation before her forehead pinched together with a sense of dread. She was not well trained to know where it was coming from ...

[Anjali Raskor]

While Anjali was curious about the slave, as much as it shocked her to see her wife spar him when he was still nothing but a slave; most of her attention was upon her wife. Whatever Cearia thought of the skai man, she trusted her opinion, and had thus no need to be actively assessing his every move. Trusting other Clan Mothers to be more than simple survivors, a feat in itself, had been one of the lessons Anjali had learned early on when she had been named Clan Mother. It could be challenging at times, especially when she was naturally protective, even in the harsh and tough love way that her birth Clan had instilled in her. Yet she had been doing well, appreciating her fellow leaders, and knowing that she could rely on many members to do their part, and thus bringing the Undead Fires to well-functioning ways.

She welcomed the break from her obligations, so she could get lost in her amazed observation of the huntress's fighting skills. It made a lot of sense that Cearia would be that proficient given her upbringing, and the fact that as a non-Force user, she had been considered as lesser, and thus likely bullied on a regular basis. That still played war in her beloved's heart; but once again the Clan Mother was impressed with her and the extent of her capacities, even when she knew Cearia might downplay them later.

For now, Anjali pushed away the dissonance that disturbed her wife's soul, and gave her attention to how she fought. There was grace in her movement, but it couldn't conceal the fierce strength that underlined her attacks and parries.

When she couldn't see the spear, she instinctively opened herself more to her enhanced perceptions and felt nothing bad from her wife, thus keeping her fearless about how the spar was unfolding, even when some among the crowd had briefly held their breaths, before realizing the huntress was still fine, which brought a proud smile to Anjali's lips.

[Kavan Siron]

While he had left the military a few years back, along with some of his comrades, Kavan had thrown himself into a new life that had never really made him feel as alive as the battlefield. While Tonyh and Ranooki had adjusted to civilian life with impressive ease, and Ara had fell in love with her bodyguard and nanny job for Vankar's offspring, he had stayed on the fringe of their operations, even when the business was flourishing and they had dealings with the underworld, which could keep things interesting.

Smuggling hadn't been enough for him, which was maybe why he had grown not a death wish, for he loved life too much, but got himself into more and more dangerous but kind of stupid situations. He had known very well that trying to outsmart a Ducha who was known for shady dealings and being ruthless was a bad idea. Hell, that was how he had crashed on Dathomir, after his small crew had died, but not without the assassin being killed by his bare hands. There was a raging thirst in him for something more, although he had never put his finger on what exactly.

As much as he could miss the battlefield, he hadn't missed the military, and the barking orders and not having a say in anything, at least in his own view.

He was still getting barked at on Dathomir, and it was even worse than military academy and some war zones he had been in; but the do or die challenge was giving him more life than in a very long time. That was likely why he was actually embracing the hardships and getting his ass handed over to him, fighting and proving his way both physically and intellectually, so he could eventually get beyond the status of slave.

He knew he would, no matter what it took.

He realized that the huntress wasn't allowing him too close to the bystanders. That was a protectiveness towards her people, he briefly mused, for she could have chosen to use them as canon fodder; but that proved to him once again that the clan members protected one another, which was a strength.

The Sister kept him pushing hard, and he felt the familiar eerie sensation that sometimes ran through his body, as he went above and beyond what he normally could do. It was furtive and he still mostly relied on his combat training, but it pulsed within him, as it appeared to happen more often since his fight with the assassin and then pushing through limitations to survive on Dathomir.

He would later on replay the whole fight in his mind over and over again, to dissect it, but now he only had the very moment to react, sometimes quick enough, sometimes just a tad too late, as the bruises and scraps on his body were beginning to tell, but he kept pushing.

When the kick came to his head, he had no time to think. He let go of his weapon at once, and grabbed at the hunter's foot, her boot way too close for comfort, and he held tight, twisting it as hard as he could. She hadn't gone easy on him, so he had no reason to do it.

He had to keep himself grounded and he managed to do so, even with the strong impact of her kick whose momentum he had to block. He felt his shoulders scream for mercy and the pain was as if the bones were going to crash into his spine, but he forced himself to use the meager moments to his advantage, hoping he'd weaken the Sister for a split moment.

He had to keep enough energy for whatever she would do with or without weapons though, for he knew his reserves would eventually fade.

[Spark Vallen]

Frak.

Eyes squeezed shut, Spark's fingers curled into fists in the dirt and he pushed off and forced himself into a crouch. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to ease his pounding skull. Though he was only feet away from the circle of onlookers, they felt and sounded far away as the Corellian focused on his breathing and the pain.

C'mon. Pull it together, he thought, breathing slowly.

The overwhelming swirl of pain and riotous feeling would not dispel, which scared him. This went far beyond stimcaf withdrawl, he realized. This was something more... something external, dark and potent. Eyes still closed, Spark bit his lower lip, trying to make sense of this.

Been here for weeks, and this nagging... feeling... has been constant. If not the caf, then what? And what happens if... I quit fighting it?

He swallowed hard and stood up. Blue eyes open, his expression was stormy as he walked away from the gathering. The kid had told him to see the healer, and he might... be he needed time alone to walk this off and figure out what was really happening to him, here on Dathomir.

[Cearia Tserta]

With a hiss, Cearia adjusted her position with a hop to counter the sudden jerk and twist of her foot, losing the skai slave's spear in the process to maintain balance. She bent the knee of the captured leg needing to free limb as priority, and in the next move she grabbed Kavan by the back of the neck and braced herself for impact when heads met. Her hand still held him by the neck as both of them reeled back, Cearia feeling only a dull ache as she was in charge of the attack, brought Kavan's head back down to slam against her knee. With him off balance, she was able to jerk her leg free to the ground.

She quickly moved behind him, the spear circling behind her back as she adjusted her grip, and brought the pole along Kavan's neck. With the height difference, she was hoping to keep him off balance and have better leverage on him as he choked.

"Ste bilaik gon daun odon?!" she barks against his ear.

[Daca Tserta]

Daca whoaed with the crowd, teeth clenched together with worry as the skai slave grabbed Cearia's leg and tried wrenching it. It was a precarious position and the nightchild wasn't sure how one could escape from this. The question was answered quickly before Daca could even formulate an idea when Cearia countered with a headbutt and then smashed the slave's face onto her knee, allowing escape.

The cheers erupted and now there were more swaying arms and bodies in her way, which made her frown. She wove around clan members to get a better view, stealing glimpses of movements from the fight when she mistakenly bumped into someone.

"Fiya!" she said without looking up, bouncing and smiling when she saw Cearia had Kavan in a choke hold with the spear, not realizing that she collided with the Clan Mother.

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali knew that her wife would win the spar, but she was glad that the slave seemed willing to put up some fight. Not only would it likely indicate that Khthonia's possession might bring some value to the Clan, but it also gave her a better opportunity to watch her mate's display of skills.

Iss-Ka was batting at the ground in excitement, her tongue darting out at times. The Clan Mother was still amazed at her Voritor's growing affection for her mate. It was definitely a gift from the gods, and a sign in favor of both her union to the huntress, and Cearia's potential as a Beast Warden.

When a young night girl bumped into her, apologizing quickly, too engrossed in the spar, Anjali recognized one of the children who had been with them for a while, an orphan, she recalled.

As she watched her wife choke the slave, she grinned devilishly and then rested a hand on the child's shoulder, leaning forward just so she could hear her.

"Yer chomolathi jin Vezhven Inavva, avvos yer?"

[Kavan Siron]

He really thought his skull had broken the moment it collided with the hunter's head.

He didn't have the luxury to ponder on it, stringing two thoughts together hurt like a bitch.

He wasn't going to give...

OUCH.

She had cut his flesh open on his forehead and temple with the impact and he had to blink dripping blood.

Third thought didn't happen because she crashed his head into her knee and before he knew it she was choking dear life out of him.

That was it. His life was bloody dear to him.

He didn't bother was precious consciousness to reply to what she barked into his ear.

Gon daun ste nou odon, gada.

He crouched quickly, hands grabbing at the spear against his neck and he used every last bit of energy to throw her over him to free himself from her grip.

He could barely move and his head felt like a lightspeed freighter repeatedly crashing into an asteroid, but whatever...

Screaming, he lunged at her with a flurry of punches, hoping to grab at her with the last bit of strength he had.

[Cearia Tserta]

Cearia knew what was coming the moment Kavan started to crouch towards the ground. She tucked her head against the back of his shoulder, leaning against him to help soften the impact when she hit the ground, both losing the spear in the process. She did grunt as the wind was momentarily knock out of her. Cearia quickly sucked in air, planted hands against the ground by her head and tucked knees against her abdomen, slightly forcing her body to rock. The strength in her legs and the power in her arms aided with momentum, allowed the hunter to quickly kick up to her feet as the slave began his erratic attempt at offense. He was volatile and desperate.

Arms were brought up for protection, his fists and forearms unable to reach his intended target as they were deflected away. When he lunged forward with a wide, wild, attack, Cearia ducked safely under and latched arms around his waist. With wrists locked, she hefted him a few inches off the ground and body slammed him with strength created from pure adrenaline or perhaps something more. Perhaps it was the same bright aura that guided her arrow to hit true and free Iss-Ka of her offering, saved from being eaten by a young rampaging Rancor.

She didn't let up when Kavan lost his breath. Pivoting on a knee, Cearia saw the spear that was dropped not too far from them during the scuffle. She picked it up by the pole and pushed off the ground as if seamlessly walking up a step, fiercely eying the skai slave. His spirit was strong, pushing through the pain for one final attack in hopes of obtaining the upper hand, but his fight ends now.

The weapon spun around and around as the hunter stalked closer to Kavan's prone body and CRACK ...the blunt end of the spear came across the side of his face ...

"Yeld!" Her voice was of command, not just strong with question like before, as she pointed the deadly tip of the nightbrother's spear at his neck.

[Daca Tserta]

Daca's eyes darted back and forth between the fighters, wondering what would happen next. Surely the skai slave would have to yield or be choked out, forfeiting the match by default. She watched Kavan struggle, blinks forcing him to stay focused as blood dripped along his face.

"Sha, Ai dula op. Ai gaf in bilaik jos like em." She was distracted but managed to quickly answer and as Daca was about to turn to see who spoke the question, she gasped as Cearia was thrown over the slave's head.

She wasn't the only one. It was the first time that the slave had gained an advantage over the Great Sister and it took the crowd by surprise.

"Gyon op ..." she whispered but in the next breath cried out in raw glee as Cearia immediately bound to her feet and defended herself from the clumsy attacks.

"Yu don ai op?!" Daca turned to her fellow spectator, grinning with delight as she pointed towards the fight with a hop, only for her face to fall into shock at seeing who had talked to her.

"Nomon Anjali!" Her mouth hung open, jaw working at something else to say that wouldn't embarrass her further. Out of all the people to admit she favored Great Sister Cearia, it just had to be her chosen, the Clan Mother.

She bowed her head, offering respect to her leader as was proper. "Bilaik houmon gon dauns ena en kom grat yuj."

[Anjali Raskor]

Anjali couldn't help dividing her attention between her beloved and the night girl who had accidentally bumped into her. Daca was engrossed in the spar, like everybody else, and rightfully so. It amused the Clan Mother that the young witch didn't realize who she was speaking to. In a way, it reminded the Beast Warden when she was just one among many. Life changed, and any situation had its positives and negatives.

There was something about Daca's excitement that piqued Anjali's curiosity, although it was a fleeting thought in the midst of their brief conversation as she was among those yelled in encouragement to the huntress.

"Cha, Ai yu don," she replied at once when asked whether she had seen her wife's latest move.

While it was good that the slave exhibited a drive to survive and keep fighting, there was no way he could get out of this still alive if he didn't yield this time around.

Anjali had always been proud of her wife, but the way she fought was a sight for sore eyes, and her techniques was outstanding.

She laughed at the shocked look on Daca's face upon realizing who she had been speaking with.

"Won deyon Yu hofli gon daun dise seintaim," she replied to the praise about her mate's prowess.

She rested a hand on Daca's shoulder, nudging her to keep watching.

[Kavan Siron]

He knew that pushing his luck would likely mean more injuries but he didn't have the luxury to prove himself so often, and if there was one thing that he had learned in the military and from what he had already observed in his time on Dathomir was that yielding at first chance or too easily wasn't the way to go. Down the road, he might have the luxury for better tactics, but this day had yet to pass.

There was this sensation mixed with the accute pain and exhaustion that he had become familiar with over the years. It was difficult to explain but as much as he would just joke it was his good luck, or death hating the thought of having to deal with him for eternity, he really didn't know what the hell it was. Tales of Jedi and Sith, and even witches were one thing; but the scoundrel had never thought of himself as being Force sensitive. That was one in a million or maybe the whole survivor thing on this wild rock.

He was a fighter but he only considered it hard work with some sheer luck tossed in every once in a while.

While he wasn't surprised that his attacks didn't land as he had expected, he had to push further before yielding. And every beating he took from that hunter gave him more insight, though later when he had the brain power to go through it again, into how they fought. Observing was one thing but experiencing it first hand was a whole different matter.

When she body-slammed him against the ground, he knew he had at least one cracked rib, but what caught his remaining attention, for the world still ebbed and flow in various shades of light and dark given the concussion, was the spear that could end him should he now prove to be stupid.

He had done stupid things in his life, but he wasn't going to die now.

"Ai yeld," he managed to say clearly.

[Spark Vallen]

Breathe. Just... keep... breathing.

Vallen followed his own advice, taking slow, measured breaths as he walked the camp. With nearly everyone focused on the bout, he was free to move without drawing any interest from the Witches and Night Brothers.

Breathe.

As he walked, and breathed, Spark tried to also think. He considered that sensation, that darkness, that energy, how cloying it had been as the crowd gathered around Cearia and the other slave, Kavan. He knew he wasn't claustrophobic nor anxiety-ridden in crowds, so it wasn't that. No, what he'd felt was something different -- something outside himself, clawing its way in.

But what?

The Corellian didn't know. He looked up into the blood-red sky because there was no one nearby to yell at him for doing so. But, there was no answer, no hope to be found there. Closing his eyes a moment, he bowed his head, then re-opened them to gaze quite literally at his booted feet, at the hard-packed earth.

"Fisa. Healer."

He felt better now, apart from the gathering and the energy of the bout. But, still, maybe a healer was exactly who he needed to see. Spark turned and headed toward the caves.

[Cearia Tserta]

The skai slave was not a fool. If he were, Cearia would not have started the contest to allow him a chance to prove his worth. Her curiosity about the slave's skills was the main reason for allowing this - to see what strength a soldier from the stars could bring to the clan - but it was an opportunity to been seen as more than a slave. If he decided to continue, his life was forfeit for she would not hesitate in stabbing the spear through his neck and make it up to Khthonia later for killing her pet. She was ready to strike if he even twitched the wrong way.

As soon as he yielded, Cearia's posture loosened and pulled the spear away from his neck as the crowd erupted with cheers and screams.

"Gud gon daun, Grat Sis!" The nightbrother that Kavan had borrowed the spear from stepped forward and bow graciously. "En Yu don dula nou bos op em!'

She tossed the spear to him with a smile. "Won deyon skai hef na gon daun kom em praperle."

He caught it and raised it high above his head. "Blesins gon bilaik viketre!

Cearia nodded with gratitude and became very acutely aware of the sizable crowd that gathered to watch the fight. It felt strange seeing her clan cheering for her and enjoying her prowess as a fighter instead of against her, insinuating that her victories against other clan members were by luck or the sister threw the fight. It were all lies, but still the sight was jarring.

She felt as dizzy as the concussed skai slave and focused on him.

"You fight good." She crouched and placed a hand on his chest, needing to focus on Kavan or risk panicking in front of this sizable crowd. She felt it brewing just under the surface of her thoughts, anxiety nagging and begging to be released. That could not happen as her behavior would also be a reflection upon the Clan Mother. "Now fis op. Heal."

She looked to two nightbrothers and flagged them over. "Lid in em gon, Sis Ashia."

They didn't question Cearia's orders in helping the slave and immediately moved to the ground as Cearia rose to stand and stepped back to allow them room to lift him to his feet.

"Hod op."

She jogged over to retrieve Kavan's spear and when she looked up, green eyes caught a glimpse of familiar untamed blonde hair, high cheekbones and eyes that shined with nothing but pride.

Anjali ... but ... for how long?! Skrish!

The crowd was enough to stir Cearia's agitation. Anjali's presence stoked the embers into a full on blaze. She ducked her head, avoiding the Clan Mother's gaze to hand the spear off to one of the brothers taking Kavan to see Ashia.

[Daca Tserta]

Daca blinked with astonishment that Mother Anjali suggested that may happen! High aspirations went through her head and if she wanted to be just like the Great Sister, Daca would need to practice every day - fighting, tracking, hunting - whatever, and for however long, it took, Daca would train. Secretly she hoped that if she mustered enough bravery, that maybe the hunter would offer lessons too. Today had been a good sign when Cearia had played with them, but should Daca press for more?

Her thoughts ended there as the Clan Mother encouraged her to keep watching, which she was grateful for! She just watched Cearia body slam the slave to the ground and watch with fascination at how graceful the hunter was as she claimed victory. She immediately cheered with the rest of the crowd when they heard the skai slave gave up. She didn't jump up and down this time, just merely smiling and taking it all in before looking up at the Clan Mother.

"Ai hope yu laik ait en Ai na na like em, Nomon Anjali," she said with a nod, determined.

[Ashia]

Ashia was inside her residence, grinding herbs by mortar and pestle. Blonde hair was tied in multiple braids that hid her face that was deep in concentration. As the clan grew in numbers, her medicines and supplies grew thinner. She was constantly replenishing and mixing ingredients and stripping cloths for bandages, blessed that the children were here to help wash linens! That allowed her some time to sleep, but only for a few hours stolen here or there. Considered the expert healer in the clan with a few other sisters that showed promise, Ashia was called upon most often to assess injuries and illnesses, and guide the young sisters that barely touched adulthood in the healing arts.

A presence was looming closer, one that was searching for her. Ashia's empathic abilities greatly assisted with her craft but felt just as confused as the one that was seeking her for comfort. She set aside her tools and went to the flap, pushing it aside and with surprise, found one of the skai slave's coming towards her.

She moved under the flap, letting it fall to sway back and forth in the doorway as she approached him. This slave man and the other spoke the same language and Ashia had been working hard to learn it. Slaves as they may be for now, if she were to tend to them, she needed away to communicate until they could speak her language.

"Are you hurt?" She was looking for any reason why he was here but besides tired eyes and looking pale, Ashia was grasping for ideas. "Sick?"