(Flashback) To be young again... [Naama]

[Gunto]

Gunto sat on the ground, slowly buckling the iron bracer across his right arm. It's drykas details hinted at it's origin; a trophy stolen from the corpse of an unlucky horseman who had crossed his path. It had been a great victory, and the Drykas had fought with everything he had. Gunto had consumed his strength, and taken the token as a reminder of his battle with that man. It had been a good victory. As his eyes slowly shifted about his small room, he considered the fact that he would be leaving Taloba the next day. A long term scouting assignment, so far away in Sylira. He would leave behind his family... that was not so horrible all in all. The Shadow Hand would be fine without him. He was the eldest son of the Matriarch, true, but all in all unimportant. Mostly, he would miss his sisters... one had been stolen from him already, and he would be leaving his other alone. A non Myrian may find it odd that a grown man with ink framing a skull upon his face would sit in his room and reminisce, but Gunto was just as normal as anyone else. He loved, he feared, and he mourned. Today, his mind wandered to a time so long ago... his first adventure, shared with his sister. Fall of 494 AV "Naama! Wake up!" Gunto hissed, shaking his younger sister by the shoulders. His thin frame was devoid of bulky muscle, composed of the bare minimum physique of a thin thirteen year old boy. He loomed over his sister's resting place, apparently ready for some sort of travel. he wore a pair of leather trousers cut off just at his calves, and a belt with a large pouch hung around his waist. "Theres some slavers wandering around out in the jungle! Look!" Gunto said, shoving a shiny metallic object in Naama's newly awakened face. It was a small knife, not even a dagger, but clearly foreign. "I found it out earlier this morning, but I didn't tell momma... I just said there were heavy tracks. She went out with a search party already! Come on, get up! We gotta go help! I know where they want... I think." Gunto's thick black hair was shaved into a mohawk on his head, but his body was devoid of any other aesthetic alteration. Neither he or his sister had the fabled mark of the Shadow Hand. They were but children... and they liked to play. It just so happened that Myrian children at times played a little harder than others. "Get your stuff and lets go! I can keep us safe... with this!" Gunto hissed again, trying not to alert anyone else to his plan. He delved into the heavy pouch at his side and pulled free a simply massive knife. Well, it looked massive in his thin hands. It was a kukri knife forged of bone, honed to a razor's edge. "Momma gave it to me for telling them about the slavers! It's really sharp." he said, nodding firmly as if to make sure she knew that he had a grown up's weapon. "Hurry up, I can't wait anymore!" With that, Gunto jogged from Naama's room. When she gathered her things and went out to meet him, she would most likely see his distant form disappearing into the thick foliage of the jungle. She'd have to catch up.

[Naama]

Naama woke with a start at Gunto's uninhibited shaking. She bit back a yelp and sat up with groggy eyes, rubbing them for good measure to blink away the layer of blurriness that came about such a startled waking. "What'd you do that for!" She barked, but with a lack of enthusiasm that seemed to etch itself on her rather irate expression.

She had half the mind to nestle herself back in her pallet when Gunto thrust a foreign knife in her face. She blinked her unusual onyx eyes and shoved his arm away. "You woke me up to follow slavers? You're crazy!" She spouted, but her interest had been piqued, and the girl no older than 9 sat up and stretched with a stifled yawn. Niobe was asleep beside her, but the girl managed to sleep through even the loudest noises. Mainly the ones Naama made when she accidentally knocked down a rack of weapons nearby due to her constant sleep-kicking.

Where Gunto wore a child's mohawk, Naama's was tightened also in the style of a mohawk but with braided sides that left the top portion falling in a tangle of beads and feathers just below her mid back. She stood and grabbed her one hook sword gifted to her by their mother, and fastened a belt around her breechcloth. The tiny fluffball Riamm had been roused from sleep, however, and trailed after Naama with a soft growl. "You can't even cut a chicken open let alone protect us!" The halfbreed chided, but she followed with increased enthusiasm after Gunto, who had darted away with a speed that left Naama bewildered.

"Gunto?" She called quietly, but moved her way toward where she last saw him and quickly vanished behind the foliage that had shielded her older brother. The riamm followed her dutifully, as she pushed aside large leaves and hanging vines and swiped at obstacles that hindered her path. "Gunto!" She hissed, "Where are you!" On more than one occasion she nearly fell flat on her face, but managed with a growl to watch where she put her feet and to keep on the exposed roots of the large trees beside her. Black eyes scouted the floor, in search of the fresh tracks left behind by a vigorous young boy.

[Gunto]

"Haha!" Gunto yelled, seemingly crashing from the heavens and tackling his sister to the ground. He ignored any fuss she made as he scrambled to his feet, firmly placing his hands on his hips as he spoke. "You should always be prepared for an ambush Naama." He lectured, nodding his head as he had before. It was ridiculous in nature for him to act as though he were a seasoned warrior and tracker, but Gunto was full of vigor and blind to the danger of what they were about to do. "You see these tracks?" Gunto beckoned, motioning Naama to follow him to an area of the path a bit farther down. He knelt down, waving his hand just over the top of the tracks just as he had seen the real Myrian warriors do. "They're heading that way." He said, pointing a skinny finger into the wild growth of the jungle. Gunto was no tracker, and his sister was likely just as blind to the truth that these tracks held. He couldn't understand that the muddy cluster of footprints was not just a few men, but more likely at least two dozen. He could not understand that the heavy imprints meant they were likely large men, or at least wearing considerable armor. He also could not understand that the fact that they had made it this far into the jungle meant they were extremely dangerous. "Come on, we're gonna find them before momma does, you just wait." Gunto voice chimed, literally quivering with excitement. He didn't wait for his sister, perpetually running off in front of her as if he were a brave Myrian commander. Nevermind that way he was a male, and would never hold such a title. This realization had not yet set into the young warrior's mind. His body flailed and tore through the jungle, tripping and stumbling over roots and constantly smacked in the face by wide leafy vegetation. "Naama, come on!" He yelled, his breath coming quickly now as he ran. It was close to ten chimes before Gunto was forced to stop. He stooped over, his hands on his knees and gasping for breath. Once his sister caught up to him, he would allow her some rest as well before they trudged on. "Look! It's some kind of weapon." He whispered, pointing to an axe that lay casually a few feet away in the thick mud. It was splattered with dried blood, and worn with time. A sturdy weapon, most likely thrown at some point. Gunto knew far too little about such things to have known that the blood was only recently dried, or that the leather wrapping around the wooden handle was still ripe with fresh sweat. All he knew was that they were getting close. Far too close for their own good. Gunto took another step forward, but his footing failed him. With a shriek of horror and surprise, Gunto fell face first into blackness. It had been a trap of sorts, thick leaves and netting caked in dirt concealing a large pit. It was only about ten feet in depth, but Gunto's body disappeared fully inside. Naama would hear the thud of his impact on the wet soil below, and his ensuing groaning. Naama would be torn between the plight of her brother, and another much more terrifying event. In the chaos ensuing Gunto's fall, the sound of hurried breath would fill her ears. It was only a few seconds before a massive man burst through the foliage, gripping his bloodied shoulder with one hand and wielding an axe identical to the one on the ground in the other. His eyes were wild, twitching in some form of madness that could only have been brought about by fear. "Petching kids!" He yelled, fresh blood gathering around his fingers. He had been shot with a barbed arrow, and upon ripping it out he had caused a tremendous wound in his own arm. Naama would notice that there was a similar wound in his right leg, as well as massive indention in the chestplate he wore that could have been caused by a club. He had been in a battle, and was worse for the wear. Yet, to a child he was still an imposing threat. "... Yeah, c'mere... little jungle bitch, you're my ticket outta' here." He growled, shuffling forward and wildly slashing his handaxe at Naama without warning. Gunto was still inside the hole, the breath knocked free from his lungs. He had heared the exchange, and had started screaming for his sister. He clawed at the wet dirt, but his climb was repeatedly stymied by the muck that encased his fingers and tore away from the walls of the ditch. For the moment, Gunto could not climb out. Naama was on her own.

[Naama]

Naama bit back a shriek as Gunto tackled the small girl to the ground. “You-- You, deyhan!” The swear left her lips before she could seal them. A loaded insult that Naama was oblivious of. She only heard Myrians speak of deyhans throughout her time spent training and chores, and most of the people it was directed towards reacted offensively. But he was off of her in another second, motioning towards tracks then dashing off as if he was some experienced fighter. The girl rolled her eyes but squatted to inspect the tracks herself. As a child, she could hardly deduce anything from them, but it was worth looking. Not a moment too late and Naama was off behind her brother, racing past tall ferns several heads higher than her and hanging vines that whipped her arms and shoulders as she ran. Twice she nearly tripped over exposed roots, but following Gunto was the least of her worries. She knew the dangers of the wilds, and the important advice often instilled in her to “never go alone.” When she finally caught up to him there was a nagging stitch in her side, and the young halfbreed was forced to bend over and breathe heavily. “You’re…. gonna… get us… killed…” She huffed, then, at the mention of a weapon she immediately glanced up, intrigued. It was most definitely foreign; not Myrian made. And the blood hinted of a hunter, at least in Naama’s mind. But as Gunto walked forward and abruptly collapsed inside a large pit, the girl’s heart jumped to her throat. “Gunto!” She cried, kneeling over the hole dug deep into the ground where her brother had fallen, “Hold on I’ll--” Then came the man. Bursting into their location like a raging boar. Naama scrambled up and away from the pit as the man approached her, gripping her hooked sword in both hands with trembling fingers. “Come on!” She shrieked, hardly comprehending his foreign words, “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!” And then he swung. Naama, eyes wide, leaped out of the way of the sweeping handaxe, barely nicking on her arm. He was hurt, this much the girl could see. The leg. What had mother told them? The bigger they are, aim for the legs. She glanced at his wound and clenched her teeth. Screaming a death cry in her wake as she ran behind her assailant, swung her hook sword and attached it to the injured leg of the foreign man. And she tugged. Tugged as hard as she could, with what strength her small body held, to force him to collapse.

[Gunto]

Gunto's breath hastened as he launched himself towards the wall, his knees and elbows digging into the mug while feet and hands acted as though they were claws. At last, he managed to get some semblance of a hold. He had to fight every instinct in his body to roar upwards at the fastest pace possible, but he knew his hand and footholds would slip unless he was careful. Naama...

Being a child, she must have viewed him as swinging down his blade with all the wrath of a thousand Myrians. In truth, he was swinging his axe at a quarter speed and with the flat blunt edge on the back no less. Her feeble attack would indeed strike true, but her strength only succeeded in shifting his heavy leg a few inches. Despite, he stumbled forward and past her while spatting out curses at the tiny girl. It was then that Gunto's head peeked over the edge of the pit, and he shouldered his way over the top while swinging his legs to clear it.

"Naama!" He shouted, pushing himself up from his knees. He fumbled at his waist, awkwardly drawing the curved blade from it's rough sheath. Earlier in the day, he had felt powerful holding it. Now, it's weight seemed to weigh him down and the hilt seemed twice as thick as a comfortable weapon should. The wild man turned to face him, and let out a curse that seemed to mock his feeble stance and weapon.

"Naama, run!" Gunto yelled in his native tongue, waving his blade in front of him. His sister was stubborn though, but he hoped she understood the gravity of the situation. Even together, there was little hope they could bring this man down, wounded as he was. To confirm Gunto's mindset, he lunged forward as if to strike. Gunto instinctively thrust his blade forward, but his mind simply could not comprehend the speed in which his agressor slapped his blade away and took him by the wrist. Gunto's kukri fell to the muck below, forgotten. He stared at the man wide eyed.

Then he was on the ground, the left side of his face on fire. He'd been struck, but his eyes could gather nothing but the brown and green mishmash of color the jungle grounds contained, and his body felt the damp earth clinging to it. A shadow loomed over him, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him onto his back. Naama was forgotten. Gunto did not know if it was because she truly had ran when he commanded her too, or if this intruder had decided she was of no consequence. Either way, Gunto had little hope. He was at this man's mercy.