In Search Of The Water [Japikoa]

[Nala]

Time Stamp: Early Spring, 510 AV

She left Yahebah with the hood of her cloak pulled up against the night wind that whipped across the sands of Eyktol. Nala had traveled before, of course, although it was only every so often. But she had traveled enough to know that one of the best times to travel in the desert was at night, when the sun was down, particularly if your numbers were few. Of course, it could get cold, but it was far easier to add layers to one's clothes than it was to remove them in an attempt to escape the arid heat, and to set up her tent to rest in and protect herself and Dimah from the sun and rest. Others would make similar arguments, but as far as Nala was concerned, it was a matter of personal preference. It had been late at night when she left, with most of the city asleep, and a note left to her mother to let her know where she had gone, and why. Not that her mother would ever understand.

Not that Nala ever really expected her to.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Her family were very devout Benshira, worshiping Yahal, almost to the exclusion of all else. But Nala couldn't be that way. She knew that with all of the water inside of her... it called the girl to Makutsi. Makutsi could bring the rain to the desert. Makutsi could soak the land for them, to fill the rain barrels and make the wells swell with water. Maybe the goddess was testing them. Maybe she was displeased with them and their lack of gratitude. It was times like that when Nala found herself doubting the patron deity of the Benshira. The priests had said that suffering built character. But so did courage... the courage to stand apart, to make the sacrifices others would not. Nala had found that courage. She wanted to learn the way of the Raindancers, to learn. To worship Her, to bring the rain to the desert in Her place for her people. They would never appreciate it or her. There would be no going back. She had to keep pushing that worry out of her mind. Courage was not the absence of fear. It was the mastery of it.

She traveled through the night, keeping an eye out, peering about beneath her hood. She had long since left Yahebah behind, alone but for the endless sweep of desert. She knew which direction she was heading it. She should have, possibly, gone along the coast. That would have been smarter, but it would have taken her longer. The sun was rising before Dimah started to slow, and the sun was approaching its zenith when Nala was ready to dismount, and start putting up camp. She shielded her eyes with her hand, letting the mare slow down to a walk as she had a look around her. Far enough off the beaten trail, she supposed, and it was high time to set up camp. To rest, to take a break, and continue when the sun began to set.

That would work for her.

[Japikoa]

Unbeknownst to Nala, she'd been followed for the better part of two hours. Little escaped the notice of the Chaktawe within the bounds of their territory, and this particular band of scouts and trackers had picked up the vibrations of her travel during the darkest hours of the nights. They'd investigated, the trail too straight and steady to be a baral, only one so unlikely to be tsana. And then they'd heard the tinkling of bells, even from three dunes away, and signaled to each other in disgust. They waited, though the men of the group had been partial to leaving her be. Not so lucky, today, for Japikoa was not nearly so cowardly as the other Tatsuwaat. No, this intruder would not be left to wander the sandpaths in peace. When the horse pulled to a stop, there was a heartbeat of silence filled only with the oppressive silence of the desert morning. In the next eyeblink, three spears were pointed at Nala, held by three Chaktawe in billowing, sand-colored cloaks, granules still spilling from their arms. Two men, their faces and shoulder painted in scarlet, and woman whose eyes and cheekbones were spattered with creamy white, making the unrelieved blackness of her eyes seem like holes in the very fabric of the world. "What business have you here, Benshira," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she stared her down.

[Nala]

Dimah nearly reared, neighing at the sudden approach of the Chaktawe. It wasn't long before the horse began to dance on her hind legs, causing the bells in the earrings of the Benshira to ring, and her hood to fall off as the... she was hardly more than a girl!... blue-eyed girl-child spoke and soothed the mare in Shiber. Shhh, shh, shh. Calm, she entreated her horse, calm! Her dark hair fell across her face as she tried to buy time by soothing the mare, barely managing to stay on in the process, and breathing heavily by the time Dimah had calmed down enough to shift nervously in place.

At last, she had the mare back on four hooves, and the girl looked at the woman who had spoken to her. She looked tired, as well she might from traveling all night, and getting a good scare like that. She blew sand off of her dry lips, the copper in her ears winking and shining in the sun, revealing some of the bells. There were others - they could hear them under that cloak. So many bells. Clearly she wasn't used to being quiet or even needing to be. Probably one who stuck herself in Yahebah and didn't leave it. Anyone who traveled knew how silence was crucial to survival. The inexperienced made enough noise as it was, and there was enough on the mare's tack... Gods!

The truth would set you free. She saw no reason to lie. She had no chance of getting away - she knew that much. And some people knew a lie to hear it. "I do not mean to trespass," Nala began quietly, her deep blue eyes seeking the black ones of the female who had addressed her, "but I followed the water. I am here because I seek the Rainbringer. I wish to prove myself to Her, and to become one of Her Raindancers."

[Japikoa]

That certainly surprised them. The woman's eyes widened, more black beneath long, long lashes, and one of the men hissed something in Tawna. She just snorted, a derisive, judgmental sound, and her eyes narrowed again. "Don't be an idiot," she barked, making the other two men shift uncomfortably as she continued the conversation in common so the Benshira could know what was said. "The children of Biyram do not make the Searching. She follows a dream, not her people's ways," she added, something more thoughtful in her voice. She stared at the girl, her lips pressing into a hard line as if she were holding in some words better kept from listening ears. One heartbeat, then another, and she finally lowered her spear. The two men immediately followed suit, looking at each other as if unsure what exactly was going on. First they had to follow and challenge her, and now suddenly they were accepting her? One of them hissed at her again, and she finally snapped her eyes away from the stranger to pierce him with a glare, harsh, foreign words rolling off her tongue as she advanced on him and finally shoved him in the shoulder. He quelled beneath her gaze, and hunched a little after he regained his balance, and there was no further complaint from either of them. "Come," she said, voice still sharp as she turned back to the girl. "If it is Mukutsi you seek, Dreamer, then we shall see if you've the mettle to find her. Off, off," she said with a flap of her hand, the butt of her spear now settled against the sand. "You may rest three bells, but no more. It is not safe to travel the sandpaths at night. Luck and the gods have gotten you this far," she grunted, and if Nala were paying close attention she might see the slightest quirk in the corner of the woman's mouth, the only sign that she was impressed.

[Nala]

Nala’s gaze went from one Chaktawe to another at the conversation she didn’t understand. She understood that they were discussing her from what the woman said in Common. But otherwise, Nala had not the faintest idea about just what in particularly they were talking about regarding her. She hardly knew a smattering of Tawna, and that was mostly from listening in here and there. So she stayed quiet, but for stroking Dimah’s strong neck with her fingers, the movement ringing the bells she wore, muffled though they were by the cloak. However many bells she had on her person were several bells too many.

That was probably why she hadn’t been stopped yet. The vibrations were far too annoying to bother with. Easier to just let her get on her way and leave her alone. The faster she was gone, the faster those gods-damned bells would be further away.

When the spears were lowered, the teenager slowly let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding in the first place. But when you were confronted by strangers with spears in her situation, well, you held what could be your last breath and waited for permission to release it. If the tension in the air hadn’t been at the level it was, Nala might have smiled at the exchange between Japikoa and the males. But as it was, she simply couldn’t afford to risk it. The female might be allowing her presence, but she doubted she would appreciate any show of mirth from Nala at the expense of a fellow Chaktawe. The Benshira watched the interaction, content to stay perfectly silent until she was addressed at last.

When it was just the pair of them, Nala smiled at her, inclining her head, letting the bells ring gently. “Thank you. If you give me the chance, I will,” she told the Chaktawe quietly. “I am Nala.” No long name followed, no biography that identified to whom the girl belonged to, or at least, had belonged to. Three bells’ rest worked just fine for her. “I’ve been travelling all night,” she admitted to Japikoa as she stroked Dimah’s neck, getting rid of some of the sand there. She prepared to dismount. “Should I set up camp here, or somewhere else?”

[Japikoa]

The two men moved off a few feet away, one of them pulling a pack from his shoulder while the other began poking at the dunes with the point of his spear. The woman watched her dismount, sighing and wincing a little at all the tinkling. "Gah, girl, we could hear you coming from beyond the horizon. You're a fool to travel the sandpaths with dinner-bells on," she scoffed. Her tone was harsh, clipped, but strong hands rose when Nala began to dismount and helped her down from the saddle and onto her feet. "I am Japikoa of the Tutsuwaat tribe," she said, though she spit out the name of her tribe as if it were a burden to her. And, indeed, she didn't look like the men with her - oh, they had the same hair and skin, but there was a fierceness to her that they lacked, her body honed and chiseled in a way that spoke of being ever-ready for battle. The men, while warriors, lacked some indescribable quality that she had, and it made them seem almost soft compared to her. "Do not worry about your tent. The men will handle it." She tipped her chin over to them, where one of them was nudging a dead scorpion off the tip of his spear, setting it aside before stabbing at the dunes again. It was easy to imagine what might have happened had Nala simply lay down to sleep here. "Have you water left? Are you hungry?" she asked, more to be sure the girl wouldn't fall over than because she was genuinely worried about her - or at least that was what her tone said. It was hard to tell what she really meant with those strange, bottomless eyes. A glance at the dawn-streaked sky, and she nodded to herself. "We will be in the keerdash groves tonight, before Leth rises to bring light to our travels. If you left yesterday, Dreamer, you should have enough to get you through tonight, yes? Or did you leave your Tent in such a hurry that you are without sustenance?" No question that she was here without permission - no Benshira gave their names without their heritage attached unless they wished to forget it.

[Nala]

The Benshira gratefully accepted the hands down, each movement she made, every shift of her weight, every gust of the wind setting off chimes somewhere on her person. Her cloak and skirts trailed behind her, ruffling about her and muffling those infernal noise-makers yet again. She landed, her legs more than a little sore from the trip as she held onto Japikoa's hands as she rotated her strong legs, balancing deftly on one foot at a time, as if she was doing some stretches. Despite her long trip, she had a certain bearing about her, a dancer's grace that showed through now that she was on the sand, as opposed to being on the back of a horse. She smiled at the Chaktawe. "Thank you."

She was slow to release the other woman's hands, soft fingers feeling the calluses that came from years of hard work. Nala's fingers were smooth, despite the sheathed sword that hung from the girl's rounded waist. Probably only for decoration, that thing. She silently marveled at the roughness, letting go after a moment longer. Her mother had not wanted Nala to develop any such calluses, and had insisted on soaking her only daughter's hands. Men didn't like rough skin. The slight stains from dying yarn were maybe permissible. Calluses from weapons? Absolutely not. Not only did it make the hands rough and worn and unsightly, they caught on things. While she was pleased with the calluses on her sons' hands, she soaked her daughter's hands to ensure that no such blemishes developed there.

Nala was all set to get her own tent out, but if Japikoa was certain... besides, the Benshira thought to herself, the Chaktawe had probably figured it would take half of the allotted time Nala was being given to rest to set up her tent. And the sad fact was that she wasn't too far off. Nala had some experience. Not plenty. And, quite frankly, she could use a lot of work in that area. Her blue eyes widened slightly at the sight of the scorpion, and she swallowed as she held her mare's reins, getting out the feedbag from her saddlebag. "I've brought adequate supplies," Nala assured her, "for a little while." She removed the horse's bit, and strapped on the feedbag. The Desertbred began to crunch her feed, then, contentedly.

"What about you?" Nala asked her curiously. "Will you be fine until then?"

[Japikoa]

The question got a bright laugh out of Japikoa, the sound of it bouncing across the dunes as a sunbeam on mirrors. "Me?" she grinned, shooting a smile over to the men, who were chuckling quietly to themselves. "The desert and I, we are one, yes? The sand is my skin, the sun the milk that nourishes me. You need not worry over me, Little Dreamer. I? I take care of you." With that she thrust her spear into the sand and began quickly unbuckling her horse's tack to allow the beast to rest. The saddlebags were settled beside her spear, and then she pulled the saddle off and settled it upside-down to keep the sand from getting in it. As she worked, the men set up a small pup-tent pulled out of their pack, putting it up in the time it took Japikoa to get the horse down to its skin. They started to unpack foodstuffs, when suddenly one of them stood and held out his hands, palms out, towards the south. Immediately the other man and Japikoa followed suit, and after a second of silence the woman barked a comman, and the men picked up their spears and took off across the sands towards where they'd pointed. "There is a disturbance," Japikoa explained, shaking her head and motioning Nala towards the tent. "Your horse's scent has alerted something. They will see to it, and we will meet with them when you have rested. Take your fill of water. The winds will steal it from your skin while you sleep, even with the tent."

[Nala]

Nala smiled to hear Japikoa laugh. It was a bright sound, a happy sound, something that seemed almost out of place to come from the solemn and aggressive-mannered Chaktawe. But she was entitled to her fun, wasn’t she? Of course she was. Nala’s smile widened, and she helped get Dimah unpacked, removing the saddle blanket and giving it a couple good shakes to get rid of the sand and loose hair before folding it and placing it in one of her saddlebags.

Dimah clearly appreciated being stripped of her tack as she gave herself a good shake, and went back to munching on her feed as Nala had a sip from her waterskin, then, savouring it. One day, perhaps, water would not be so scarce in the desert. Even in Yahebah, it hadn’t been so bad. You could purify the sea’s water to desalt it and make it drinkable. But further inland… you relied on what oases you could find. One day, Nala promised herself, one day, there would be more oases, enough for everyone. But that was a day far off yet, and Nala had to remind herself not to get too far ahead in her thinking yet. She still had to find the Rainbringer and convince her that she was worthy of joining the Raindancers.

She froze, stilling the bells when Japikoa and her companions held their hands out. “Someone or something?” Nala bit down on her lip. The last thing she wanted was her family coming to find her and insisting she go back. She couldn’t. She had made a promise to herself and to Makutsi, whether the goddess had heard her or not, but the Benshira was sure She had. She made her way to the tent, then, as Dimah followed along, shoving her rider’s shoulder occasionally with her feedbag-covered nose, using the motion and resistance to bring more food to her lips and down her waiting gullet.

The Benshira slipped inside the pup tent, then, sitting down and opening a glass jar of cooked lentils before stretching out on her side on her bedroll, using a carved wooden spoon to dip into the jar. She offered some of it to Japikoa. “How did you know that something is coming?” she was curious, her eyes wide. “Is it some sort of nature magic you do with your hands? Is that how you first found me? Besides the bells,” she grinned a little at that.

[Japikoa]

"It is something," she confirmed, chuckling. "You are the only human in quite a distance. There is no one following you, if that is your concern," she said, quirking another dry smile at her as she followed her over to the tent and sat down in front of it, uncaring of the sand. It was only big enough for two, would be crowded if she joined her, and besides that she wishes to keep an eye on things. "Likely it is some animal that has caught wind of you, and in its thirst has decided to investigate. Better they find it now, yes? And have it dealt with and cleaned when we join them." Bottomless eyes roamed over the Benshira, watching how she moved and trying to guess how many dozens of bells might be strewn over her person. Her question got another sharp smile out of her, and she lifted both her hands and held them palm-out to Nala. "No magic," she chuckled, "it is simply what we are. I can sense vibrations in the air, here, can find water from the way the moisture moves," she said, showing her the small black dots on the pads of her hands, swirling amidst her fingerprints. She giggled a little as Nala's soft breath tickled across the sensitive pads, almost overwhelming so close up. "Although perhaps we should tie bells to them, yes? I think you have enough, you, to give one to every beasts and clansman in the Burning Lands," she teased.