Bowls and sticks and other odds and ends required by the tribe's shaman clattered within the tent as K'piru scrambled within it, her tail twitching uncontrollably behind her and occasionally knocking items to the ground. A string of bone beads and dried wood quivered between her fingers, the thin digits shaking in her field of vision as they sifted through this salve, that powder, this water skin, that warding fetish. Items gathered on a skin spread out in the middle of the room, rough rope woven into its edges that would serve to draw it shut around its intended contents.
No one who had gone looking for her daughter had returned with anything more than apology and empty air and the weariness of hours spent under Azeyma's glare. And though news had reached her only reluctantly, she was wholly aware of her tribe's present need to move on. K'thalen had spoke as much to her, the night before when they both lay awake together in the shadows of the tent, hidden from the tribe, though not hidden from worry.
K'piru, however, was not prepared to move on. Not yet. Not ever.
A small sound caught in her throat as a few fetishes slipped from her hands, their angular, knotted forms scattering in the sand at her feet, and she knelt immediately to retrieve them. K'aijeen was playing a cruel game, she thought. A heartless and painful one, but like all games it would come to an end. And K'piru would be there for her return.
No one who had gone looking for her daughter had returned with anything more than apology and empty air and the weariness of hours spent under Azeyma's glare. And though news had reached her only reluctantly, she was wholly aware of her tribe's present need to move on. K'thalen had spoke as much to her, the night before when they both lay awake together in the shadows of the tent, hidden from the tribe, though not hidden from worry.
K'piru, however, was not prepared to move on. Not yet. Not ever.
A small sound caught in her throat as a few fetishes slipped from her hands, their angular, knotted forms scattering in the sand at her feet, and she knelt immediately to retrieve them. K'aijeen was playing a cruel game, she thought. A heartless and painful one, but like all games it would come to an end. And K'piru would be there for her return.
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"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki
