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It was another week before she saw her first Duskwright.
She had begun traveling in the day, now that the city lay nearly twenty malms behind her and the threat was lessened. The mountains of Xephotal were rugged and harsh, the Ixal a constant threat, and many of the caves shallow and empty.
She had been trying to recall where her Clan had established their home by keeping an eye on the Velodyna, but since she'd left as a child, and her drifting toward Ala Mhigo vague until encountering Petyr's Survey team, she had yet to find any landmarks.
But the hunter might know.
Or if not he, his Clan...
She hung back, watching him. Trying to place him, wondering if she had once known him...
He disappeared into the side of a rock and she darted forward to catch up- which ran her directly into a trap that caught her foot in a fine rope loop. She caught herself a moment before her face met the ground, the pack on her back shifting and knocking her center of gravity off-kilter. She let out a soft curse as she flipped over and began working the knot.
"Only an idiot would try to follow a Duskwright into a cave."
The tone was dry, rather annoyed and sarcastic. "What do you want?"
She looked up at him, shoving the cloak's hood back as she matched him tone for tone. "To speak to your Elders."
She got a brief flurry of amused satisfaction as he saw her face, recognizing her as a fellow Duskwright. "And I am no idiot."
He flushed, looking away for a moment, then back at her. "Why?"
"I am seeking information," she began as she resumed picking at the knot. He dropped down to assist her, his face clearly curious, urging her to continue.
"About Clan N'Ardenté."
He looked at her quickly, his gaze even more curious.
"The N'Ardenté?"
She nodded, slipping her ankle out as the knot loosened, her eyes on him. "You know of them?"
He frowned, nodding once. "Further West. Keep the mountains to right and then straight ahead..." He hesitated, looking over her dark, but well made, and distinctly un-Elezen attire, then continued. "Why do you want to find them?"
 "It's personal."
He paused, a look of wariness stealing over his angular features.
She sighed, angling her head to the side. "They are allies."
She smiled a bit, considering him. "Blood is thicker than gil or water, hm?"
He eased a bit, nodding once as he considered her. "Nymeria watch over you then."
Chiané nodded, knowing full well that before she had reached her Clan tunnels, a runner would have already reached them.
She readjusted her pack as she rose, then moved to head west, but halted when the male caught her arm. She looked back at him curiously.
"I... Are you the one... that went missing?"
A tremor ran up her spine, then settled in her belly. "Missing?"
He nodded, still studying her face. "A young female of the N'Ardenté disappeared several years ago. Several hunters followed her tracks to what had obviously been a Garlean spy camp- but her body was never found."
She flushed, looking away, unexpectedly pleased and reassured that they had sought her and tried to bring her back. That she had not been written off as Rodrick had.
"Yes," she said quietly, then gave him a faint smile. "Thank you."
His face shifted to one of suspicion, his hand tightening on her upper arm. "So... you are?"
She gazed at him, casually turning her arm out from his grip. "I am not a Garlean spy. I am N'Ardenté. I have always been N'Ardenté."
His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion churning within.
She paused, considering if she wished to speak further, then simply smiled and moved away, holding her hand up, palm out in farewell.
"Nymeria watch over you and your Clan."
Within half a malm, the landscape began shifting into shades of familiarity. The trees, slightly bigger, but recognizable. The rock face, slightly eroded, but still gave her a sense of 'home.' She found secret entrance in the Mouth easily and slipped inside. Heading down the twisting tunnel, the smells and sounds of her childhood began to rush back.
Chiané stopped, resting back against the cave wall, her eyes pressed closed. For a moment, she was a child again and everything that had happened... was just a dark dream.
The sound of movement ahead of her caused her eyes to spring open and her body to instinctively melt back into the shadows. She watched with wide eyes as an elderly Elezen walked past- and she belatedly realized he was her grandfather. He still wore the robes of the Tutélaire, but they were hanging heavily now on his frail frame.
"Gran'papá?"
He halted, blinking myopically in her direction. She could see now that his eyes were almost entirely whited out. "Chiané?" his wavering voice was uncertain, wary.
"Oui, Papiere."
He reached unerringly toward her, his long fingers touching her face, then began tracing her features. She watched as his dim eyes began to shine with tears. "Mo'chere..."
She pressed his softly wrinkled hand against her cheek, smiling up at him. "Where is Papá?"
"Gone."
She stiffened, staring up at him. "Gone?"
His rheumy eyes looked sad. "He set out to find you, but never returned."
A cold chill ran down her back, her breath catching. "H-he's been gone since I-"
"Non... he returned frequently early on, with hopes you would have returned. But... he has not returned for a year now."
She frowned, her gut clenching and her hands shaking. "Gran'papá... what does the Dreamer say?"
He was silent a long moment then sighed. "She said you lived. It is because of her, your father never stopped looking."
"And of him?"
He frowned. "I do not know."
Her grandfather sighed, still tracing her features lightly, a faint smile on his lips. "You look like your mother, Chiané. She was a good woman. Strong. Like you."
She frowned, uncertain about the change in subject. "I wish I had known her."
The smile grew a bit more. "Your reflection speaks true. Come, hm?"
He gave her cheek a parting pat, then gestured for her to follow.
She did so, her brow creased with confusion and curiosity.
Once in his private chambers, he took a seat and gestured for her to follow suit. She sat before him, still uncertain.
"Your mother Tatania was a strong woman. A true wife to Gerárd in every way. She was killed when you were a bebé during the Massacre." He gazed at her. "Your papá was targeted too- but he managed to rejoin the Clan." He paused, gazing at her with his disconcerting eyes. "Though he was true to the Clan, your family lived among the surface-dwellers."
She frowned. "We did? But-"
He held up a hand. "Your father is a true Guerriére, Chiané. He sought the training of the Monks, so that he could train the Clan. He believed that one could never have enough martial training- but that some types were more suited to our lifestyle than others."
She nodded mutely, simply listening as she thought back to her own training. Of the countless hours spent with staff, bare knuckles and feet, and fisticuffs.
"But... When the soldiers came and began slaughtering and capturing the worshipers of Rhalgr, your father slipped away. He and Tatiana tried to make it to the Clan caves- but she was struck down by an arrow. It was by Nymenia's grace, Gerárd was carrying you in his arms when the archer found her." His brow creased in sadness. "We could not even make a cairn for her."
He paused, then took in a deep breath, his voice growing a bit stronger.
"We all elected to move north, deeper into the caves here, as many knew of your father- and that his Clan was somewhere nearby." He gave a tight smile.
"The Ixal flocks nearby discourage the curious."
His hand reached out, resting immediately on her knee. "But, he has been gone before. He will return..."
She shook her head once. "If he went east, anywhere near Ala Mhigo, he will not return."
Her grandfather blinked, then frowned. "Why do you say this?"
"There is something happening. A great moon is approaching and the Garlean military is forming to head south. If Papá traveled east, he will be found."
He paused. "How do you know this, Chiané?"
She tossed her head once, looking away. "I have been a... Hm. I was taken to Ala Mhigo and kept there. I... was trained in some of their tech..."
His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping slightly. "You assisted those that seek to obliterate us? Not merely surface-dwellers, but Garleans?!"
"No!" She stiffened, grabbing his hand before he could pull it away. "I never worked on military equipment. I was merely an assistant to a Magitek engineer that focused on microtechnologies. I-"
He pulled his hand away, his face dark. "Did... you... not hear what they have cost us, Chiané Arielle N'Ardenté?! Our blood... our home...?!"
"I didn't know- and even if I had, I didn't have a choice, Gran'papá!" She leaned forward, her voice urgent. "Please... I did not betray us. I did not tell them who I was. I would die before I would put the Clan at risk."
"But you chose them over us." His tone was deadly.
She shook her head rapidly. "I did not. I chose to not be made an example of in death. To live and to learn a useful skill that could serve the Clan later. Just like Papá. You have to believe me. I am N'Ardenté."
She paused, "But I was also a scared little girl who could not escape. I tried. Believe me... but their Magitek..."
His face slackened, his eyes grew distant as he sighed.
"I know of their Magitek, Chiané..." he whispered. "I have seen it with my own eyes- and though I am blind, I see it still. The blood, the carnage, the destruction it brought upon all that it touched..."
She swallowed, gazing at him for a long moment, then whispered. "I have not betrayed us. If I had, do you think they would not have already come?" She hesitated, then reached out, taking his hand in hers. "Gran'papá... Is it not right to sacrifice Self before Clan, and value Blood before Water? To place one's Honor before Self and Life?" She squeezed his lax hand, her voice soft.
"I did that to the best of my ability. T-Tell me what I must do to... to be forgiven?"
His eyes slowly turned to her, his voice remaining soft.
"Why did you leave?"
She quickly dug into her pack, pulling out the slightly tarnished case holding the sundial. "I had to fix Papá's sundial."
She placed it in the Elder's hand. He held it a moment, then let it drop to the ground with a dull clang that echoed throughout the small room.
She jerked, as if to catch it, but his held her hand hard.
"You sacrificed yourself... my son... for a trinket?"
She frowned. "It was his most prized possession! I broke it and I was honor-bound to fix-"
His grip was brutal. "Non. You were his most prized possession. He would gladly lose a hundred of relics of Rhalgr for one of you."
She shuddered, but his grip did not abate. She tried to not wince or let her voice change, but she felt it go a bit higher, her breathing a bit more pained as she spoke again. "I... was... young and... foolish..." She leaned over her hand, grimacing as the bones of her hand ground against eachother.
"I'm sorry, Gran'papá..." she managed, her voice nearly non-existent. "I... "
He suddenly released her hand, his voice pained. "Be silent."
She ducked her head, cradling her throbbing hand against her chest, slowly rocking back and forth.
He did not make a sound for what seemed like hours, save his breathing. She felt his blind eyes on her, but didn't dare look up. He would hear and know it. And she couldn't bear to face him.
"Mo'chere..." he began, and she let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Oui, Gran'Papá?"
"... you were not much younger than Rodrick..."
Her head shot up. "But he left because he disagreed-"
"Be silent."
She swallowed, ducking her head again.
"You were not much younger than Rodrick when he left us." He lifted her chin with his fingertips. "But you have cost us much more. A daughter, a son, a skilled protector of the Clan- and another just as promising... "
He smiled faintly. "Rodrick only cost us a blade and the hope of a child from you."
She blinked, shaking her head slightly in confusion. "What?"
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, his tone matching.
"You were to be married. His father and yours were... good friends. And he sought a seat on the Tutélaire. Such a union would bring both families together and gain him a bit more rank."
She frowned, then shook her head. "I- did he know?"
"The boy? No. It wasn't relevant to either of you at the time." He paused. "And now it is even less relevant."
Chiané sucked in a deep breath. "You have not lost me. The Clan has not lost me, Gran'papá. A-And I will find Papá-"
"No." He tightened his hand around the back of her neck. "No. You will not seek your father. If what you say is true, then... he will either return to us, or he will not. But... we will not lose you again."
She bit back a small cry of relief. "S-so I am not to be sent away?"
He paused, then sighed.
"I cannot fault you for being a frightened child, mo'chere. But the Consiel du Tutélaire will still want to hear of it. And your travels... and of this moon that is falling upon us." He paused.
"Then... we will convene and weigh your case."
She closed her eyes, ducking her head. "Yes, Gran'papá."
