Night had fallen. It was the perfect time of evening to begin the journey. K'ile lifted himself, ears standing tall over his head, blue eyes catching the moonlight, to look back towards the tribe. He couldn't see anything; no fires had been lit, as they normally would, and all was awash with shadow. What K'ile's eyes could not see, however, came to him in complicated scents. Stirred up by the felling of tanned leather tents, the rolling of mats and the sealing of bags and urns, the smell of the tribe blew across the dunes to him. He could make out the scent of dried meat, a more salty smell than anything that would lure animals to the tribe, but it smelled like food to him. If that was being packed now, then it was almost time to leave. He could imagine the tents bundled and slung to chocobos alongside sacks containing the meager possessions of the entire tribe.
Sagolii nomads, when told to do so, could migrate a hundred malms in two days and have the camp completely erect before the second day is over.
The Tia turned and made his way down the dune he'd been standing upon, his back to the tribe, moving outward. The 'trail' that they'd told him to cover was almost invisible to scent, much less to sight. He thought it more likely that the Amal'jaa had followed the scent of one of the outsider's chocobo than any physical trail left behind. Another scent that K'ile could pick among the sand was the putrid, coppery stink of the Nunh's blood. K'ile was able to follow this trail much better, though this he collected. He would put the bloodied sand to fire when he got the chance, lest it attract insects that bare ill omens, or lead predators to the tribe.
In the darkness ahead, K'ile smelled something dry and putrid. not a Miqo'te, nor any beast that a Miqo'te would hunt. K'ile pulled his spearfrom where it was fastened on his back and leveled it in front of him, growling into the dark. "You aren't supposed to be this far south."
The Amal'jaa rose like a boulder unfurling, one scout alone in all the night. K'ile would have smelled if there were more of them, and though this one carried the stink of several individuals, all were old except for its own individual scent. The thing's dark caught the moonlight like an insect's chitin, eyes like black beads stuck in the side of its head. It coughed at the Tia, and then its jaw opened and exhaled slow, languid, oozing syllables. "Your tribe attacked our party without provoaction. Without cause."
It wasn't often one head the beast tribes speak in the languages of mankind. K'ile didn't like it, and his spear rose threateningly in response. "Their cause was that they saw you, and that was all they needed. Like I said, you're too far south, and now you've been seen again. So I guess that means..." He shook his spear.
The stony beast grated out what might have been a chuckle, and its own spear glinted in the night.
K'ile hummed, smiled so that his teeth shone. He lifted his spear over the head and threw it aside. "Our Nunh is soft. If I can't beat you in a fair fight..." He lifted his hands in front of him, fingers open like claws. He bent his knees in a ready stance. "... Then beating him would be meaningless. Our tribe would have no Nunh."
In response, the Amal'jaa stood very still for a moment. It then huffed, its massive shoulders raising and falling, and threw its own spear off to one side. The weapon buried itself point-down in the side of a Dune, swaying against the night sky like a monolith. When it dropped its own stance, opened the claws of its hands, the air around it became heavy with danger. It swept its great tail back and forth across the sand, waiting for the Tia to attack so it could pull his innards out swiftly.
Before K'ile could challenge it, though, a new scent rushed into the shadow: a miqo'te who smelled of spices, alchemy, and ash. The suddeness of this new scent was caused not only by its incredible pungency, but by the fact that it had been perfectly concealed before, so that not even K'ile's long-trained senses had detected it. K'ile snapped his gaze towards the source of the scent and saw an impossibly thin figure crouching close to the sand, surrounded by unnatural orange light. Four glowing stones circled a wrist so thin it was almost invisible.
An instant later, the orange light shot forward along the ground, burning the sand black and stinging K'ile's nose with the hard scent of burnt minerals. Then the light caught, brightened, and shook behind him, with a kind of roar that he'd never heard accompany fire before. He knew the smell of cooking meat, though, and turned to watch the Amal'jaa he'd been about to fight. Its black scales were blackening further, its muscles shriveling inward, its polished eyes gone as it burned. The Amal'jaa burned alive, screaming out an earthy roar that shook inside K'ile's bones and he was sure could be heard all the way back to the tribe.
K'ile put his hand against the bottom of his nose, sheltering his nostril from the rush of unpleasant scents. He backed away from the Amal'jaa as it fell on the ground and curled up like a dried-out plant, turning away from it to set his eyes on the thin woman behind him.
"You are an unparalleled fool of a Tia." K'takka pointed at him, her one shivering, blackened finger extending thin and grotesque from her dark fist. Her body was so swaddled in thick furs of purples, golds and blues, that the mutilated digit was her only distinguishing feature. "At this rate we'll declare you unworthy to challenge the Nunh and I'll put you in your place instead."
Eyes wide, K'ile wavered for a moment before simply ducking his head, his ears pitching back along his scalp. "Elder! I didn't mean-"
"I do not wish to hear you speak. Your voice gives me a head ache. Go back to the tribe immediately. If you are left behind this time, don't expect there to be a place made for you at our destination." K'takka pressed her thin hand against the ground, and the stones -- the Firedancing stones that she had taken from him -- lit up around her wrist.
Distant light caught K'iles eyes, and he lifted he gaze to it. No, not distant. Small. And impossibly small fire just meters distant. The scent of burning blood reached his nose even over the carcass of the now-dead Amal'jaa, and as K'ile watched, more of those tiny fires lit along the path he had been following. Along the path that K'yohko had walked back to the tribe. He watched as, one by one, the little dots of blood burned in the sand where they had stained it. There were so many small fires stretching through the night, like campsites around which tiny people gathered, it reminded him of the armies gathering at Cartenau.
Looking back to K'takka, he saw only the old woman's back as she shuffled back towards the tribe, managing surprising speed for someone her age. But then, he'd never seen her outside of the elders' tent before, so how would he even know?
With the sigh of a man who'd been caught doing something stupid, knowing it was stupid, K'ile gave one last glance at the Amal'jaa's smoldering corpse before turning to walk back towards the camp. He was sure, if the Elders were helping with the preparations, that meant they would be leaving presently. Before the hour was out, they would have begun the trek to leave the Sagolii behind.
Sagolii nomads, when told to do so, could migrate a hundred malms in two days and have the camp completely erect before the second day is over.
The Tia turned and made his way down the dune he'd been standing upon, his back to the tribe, moving outward. The 'trail' that they'd told him to cover was almost invisible to scent, much less to sight. He thought it more likely that the Amal'jaa had followed the scent of one of the outsider's chocobo than any physical trail left behind. Another scent that K'ile could pick among the sand was the putrid, coppery stink of the Nunh's blood. K'ile was able to follow this trail much better, though this he collected. He would put the bloodied sand to fire when he got the chance, lest it attract insects that bare ill omens, or lead predators to the tribe.
In the darkness ahead, K'ile smelled something dry and putrid. not a Miqo'te, nor any beast that a Miqo'te would hunt. K'ile pulled his spearfrom where it was fastened on his back and leveled it in front of him, growling into the dark. "You aren't supposed to be this far south."
The Amal'jaa rose like a boulder unfurling, one scout alone in all the night. K'ile would have smelled if there were more of them, and though this one carried the stink of several individuals, all were old except for its own individual scent. The thing's dark caught the moonlight like an insect's chitin, eyes like black beads stuck in the side of its head. It coughed at the Tia, and then its jaw opened and exhaled slow, languid, oozing syllables. "Your tribe attacked our party without provoaction. Without cause."
It wasn't often one head the beast tribes speak in the languages of mankind. K'ile didn't like it, and his spear rose threateningly in response. "Their cause was that they saw you, and that was all they needed. Like I said, you're too far south, and now you've been seen again. So I guess that means..." He shook his spear.
The stony beast grated out what might have been a chuckle, and its own spear glinted in the night.
K'ile hummed, smiled so that his teeth shone. He lifted his spear over the head and threw it aside. "Our Nunh is soft. If I can't beat you in a fair fight..." He lifted his hands in front of him, fingers open like claws. He bent his knees in a ready stance. "... Then beating him would be meaningless. Our tribe would have no Nunh."
In response, the Amal'jaa stood very still for a moment. It then huffed, its massive shoulders raising and falling, and threw its own spear off to one side. The weapon buried itself point-down in the side of a Dune, swaying against the night sky like a monolith. When it dropped its own stance, opened the claws of its hands, the air around it became heavy with danger. It swept its great tail back and forth across the sand, waiting for the Tia to attack so it could pull his innards out swiftly.
Before K'ile could challenge it, though, a new scent rushed into the shadow: a miqo'te who smelled of spices, alchemy, and ash. The suddeness of this new scent was caused not only by its incredible pungency, but by the fact that it had been perfectly concealed before, so that not even K'ile's long-trained senses had detected it. K'ile snapped his gaze towards the source of the scent and saw an impossibly thin figure crouching close to the sand, surrounded by unnatural orange light. Four glowing stones circled a wrist so thin it was almost invisible.
An instant later, the orange light shot forward along the ground, burning the sand black and stinging K'ile's nose with the hard scent of burnt minerals. Then the light caught, brightened, and shook behind him, with a kind of roar that he'd never heard accompany fire before. He knew the smell of cooking meat, though, and turned to watch the Amal'jaa he'd been about to fight. Its black scales were blackening further, its muscles shriveling inward, its polished eyes gone as it burned. The Amal'jaa burned alive, screaming out an earthy roar that shook inside K'ile's bones and he was sure could be heard all the way back to the tribe.
K'ile put his hand against the bottom of his nose, sheltering his nostril from the rush of unpleasant scents. He backed away from the Amal'jaa as it fell on the ground and curled up like a dried-out plant, turning away from it to set his eyes on the thin woman behind him.
"You are an unparalleled fool of a Tia." K'takka pointed at him, her one shivering, blackened finger extending thin and grotesque from her dark fist. Her body was so swaddled in thick furs of purples, golds and blues, that the mutilated digit was her only distinguishing feature. "At this rate we'll declare you unworthy to challenge the Nunh and I'll put you in your place instead."
Eyes wide, K'ile wavered for a moment before simply ducking his head, his ears pitching back along his scalp. "Elder! I didn't mean-"
"I do not wish to hear you speak. Your voice gives me a head ache. Go back to the tribe immediately. If you are left behind this time, don't expect there to be a place made for you at our destination." K'takka pressed her thin hand against the ground, and the stones -- the Firedancing stones that she had taken from him -- lit up around her wrist.
Distant light caught K'iles eyes, and he lifted he gaze to it. No, not distant. Small. And impossibly small fire just meters distant. The scent of burning blood reached his nose even over the carcass of the now-dead Amal'jaa, and as K'ile watched, more of those tiny fires lit along the path he had been following. Along the path that K'yohko had walked back to the tribe. He watched as, one by one, the little dots of blood burned in the sand where they had stained it. There were so many small fires stretching through the night, like campsites around which tiny people gathered, it reminded him of the armies gathering at Cartenau.
Looking back to K'takka, he saw only the old woman's back as she shuffled back towards the tribe, managing surprising speed for someone her age. But then, he'd never seen her outside of the elders' tent before, so how would he even know?
With the sigh of a man who'd been caught doing something stupid, knowing it was stupid, K'ile gave one last glance at the Amal'jaa's smoldering corpse before turning to walk back towards the camp. He was sure, if the Elders were helping with the preparations, that meant they would be leaving presently. Before the hour was out, they would have begun the trek to leave the Sagolii behind.
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