3rd day of Fall, 510 A.V.
Sharakai had set up her tent under a tree, hoping that it would provide some shade against the midday sun. Her bedroll and satchel were stored neatly within her tent. Her horse, Hara, was grazing peacefully nearby. Sharakai sat in front of a small pile of firewood, holding a stick and dangling a small pot of water hanging from it over the fire. She was waiting patiently for the water to boil, which was proving much more trying than she had assumed. It was imperative that the water be brought to boiling not too quickly, but not too slowly either – a balance that she had never quite grasped when she was learning the technique from her mother.
Some crushed leaves floated peacefully on the water’s surface, moving in small circles in the center of the pot. Sharakai brushed a strand of black hair out of her face with her fee hand – an action that she had repeated at least five times in the past ten chimes. Patience was not one of Sharakai’s virtues.
Her mind began to wander off on an unwelcome train of thought: What was she doing here? It had been four days since she had entered Endrykas and she had accomplished very little. Where was all the knowledge and experience she had hoped to find here? Where was the adventure? She almost missed home – the hot desert sands and the welcoming tent of her family. She missed her father and her two siblings, but most of all she missed her mother – the one person who she knew with absolute certainty she’d never see again.
Trying to dispel the depressing thoughts clouding her mind, Sharakai looked up from the fire. Hara was chewing on a patch of grass a few feet away from the tent, seeming as content as a horse could be. What Sharakai would give for such a peace of mind right then. The problem, Sharakai decided, was that she was alone.