The nights remained uneasy for Mara and soon the days turned to the same. The more of the tribes gathered the more furious eyes followed her. All filled with ancient anger, and inherited hatred. Some of them were fueled by battles against the riders from years prior, others merely by stories about the so called slaves of the dragon. None of them saw a shaman, they all saw a darkling. A monster that was there to bring doom upon them and whose mere presence was a disgrace to this holy meeting ground.

For once they had entered she started to understand that the mesa was much more than a common ground. It was full of life and colour. The tribes had painted the high cliffs and decorated it with trophies of their greatest hunts. From pelts, to horns, to skulls, they all hung high between the cliffs. Similar to how the oak was decorated, the ropes made a spider’s net and the trophies were caught in them. The huts and tents all were made from the most different of leathers so even them coloured the shadowy cliffs inside. Like the walls, hands were painted on them, sometimes stories too. Pictures of long accomplished hunts, and memories of the highest ancestors.

Their party had made camp near the end of the cliffs between the Mesas, one of the few where the sun could touch the ground, and where the campfires could heat the egg in the sky. Mara knew her eyes were the only that made light of their own, so at night she felt the greenskins glares even more. Kazzok, Rika and Branak were always around her, making sure no one would dare to harm her. Even Chieftain Scale-Eye made sure none would dare, all though she knew his reasons were less of friendship, and more of pride.

One night a few children, roughly around little Kara’s age, came to their campfire. Kazzok turned to them. “Off to trouble?!” He asked with a dooming voice but a grand smile.

One of the boys starret at Mara and pointed at her. “Can it..can it speak?”

“I do.” She answered with a smile and made the children chuckle in awe.

“Ha! See?! I told you she can!” a girl yelled at the boys. She was truly Kara’s age.

Before more could be said the children ran away again. Mara sighed and closed her eyes. She had started to understand that she would always carry the scar her niece's death had left, and no matter what happened it would always remain a part of her.

Rika touched her arm and made her open her eyes again. “Everything alright?” she asked.

Mara forced a smile and nodded. “Just tired..” she said and felt ill. It didn’t seem fair to lie to them. Both of them had seen her cry. Both had been there for her when she did. But how much more effort could she take off them? When would it be enough? She didn’t deserve any aid and here she was still hoping for more. She hated herself. Hated the Khan and by now even her brother.

“Soon the last tribes will be gathered.” Kazzok started and took her burning eyes off the fire and to him instead. “Are you ready, shaman?”

He asked her in a serious tone and she took a deep breath. “I am.”

Rika still had care in her eyes. “What will you tell them?”

“The same that I told you, right?” She asked and looked over to her and back to Kazzok. “That’s why we are here.”

He nodded with a grunt and threw more wood into the fire. “It is.” His own ember eyes reflected the fire as he glared into it. “But was that truly all you knew?”

Her eyes remained locked with his before she looked into Rika’s next to her. She sighed and nodded. “I didn’t trust you fully when we met…so there might be more.”

She feared their reaction, felt a sting in her heart as she had to admit such, yet was relieved when Kazzok barked out laughter. “AHAHAH! Oh trust me, Shaman, we didn’t trust you either!”

Rika smiled. “When your girl came to our campfire we saw her as prey” “Or a trap!” Kazzok added. “Or a trap!” Rika repeated and smiled before she saw how the mention of Kara was robbing her aunt of her smile. She looked at Kazzok for aid. He shook his head with worry, then she took Mara’s hand into the one she had left. “Sorry.”

Mara just shook her head. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry again, wouldn’t take their kindness anymore.

After a long moment only filled by the crackling campfire she spoke, huffing away her tears as she did. “I should have never taken her along..” Her voice was cracking and she felt the losing battle over her eyes. She shook her head and stood up, ready to leave for solitude. It did not matter where, just somewhere hidden and alone. Just after she freed her hand from Rika's, it was grabbed again. She turned around to see Kazzok. “Sit down.” he said, his voice a combination of a command and an offer.

She huffed and closed her eyes where the battle was lost and tears ran down. It was tiring. How many nights of tears could she force on them? How often would she feel the guilt for doing such? Night after night, until she would be old and wrinkled and her eyes drenched and empty.

She sat down once more and felt Rika’s arm around her shoulders and soon big wolf Branak’s head on her legs. In the distance of her mind she even heard her words and smiled at them yet it was all far away. She told them before, but it was never often enough. “Thank you.” She stated and looked at Kazzok first before she smiled at Rika next to her. It took the longest second before her eyes could free them from Rika’s and she looked down at Branak. She ruffled his ears, forcing the big wolf to make pleased deep sounds of relaxation.

The way they were estranged by her sudden words at first must have meant she had cut them short of theirs, but they smiled. It was fine.

Soon their talk went back to simpler tasks. To old hunts that made Kazzok laugh and to fights that made Rika echo his laughter in with a loud voice and bright smile. Slowly Mara laughed and smiled with them and once the night was over she checked Rika’s wound together with Kazzok again.

Her sleep remained uneasy. Part of her thought it might had been because of the dragon, another part because of Kara, but she knew there was something else. Something in the wind that felt strange. Wrong in some ways while it blew from the west. It gave her a headache yet she moved on.

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The next day she rode out with Rika and Branak, for the warrior started to train and throw spears once more. Over the weeks Mara had her eyes on her. To be there when aid was needed. In the morning she aided her to knot her leathers properly, until her aid was needed less and less. One day she woke up and saw Rika try it again and again, until she huffed with the tightest knot that had ever been made, a grand grin of victory on her face.

Now she was throwing spears at a tree just outside the mesa. She huffed a few times, threw it with all her might and almost fell, not used to the lack of weight her big missing arm had left. Mara held her in place and made sure her big friend wouldn’t fall. It still almost wasn’t enough, for the muscled one armed warrior carried quite the weight.

“Maybe try it with less force at first.” She advised, which gave Rika a face of anger for the first time since she saw her battle. “Just to train your balance, first.” She continued with the voice of a shaman and made Rika nod a few times. Branak looked with a wagging tail before he quickly settled down in the warm grass of the savannah.

“Think you can’t catch me after a long day?” Rika asked with a wide grin.

Mara smiled, “You are quite heavy.”

Rika never had a big laugh like Kazzok, at least when he wasn’t around. Instead she huffed through her nose and hinted at a chuckle with a wide grin. “Imagine how much harder it would have been when there were two of these!” She replied and flexed her one arm.

Mara rolled her burning eyes but smiled warmly and continued to stand ready with her.

The next throw was softer but indeed made Rika fall less. She tried a lot over the day. How to settle her feed properly. How to still put as much force as possible into the throw, and finally how to aim. It was all far from doing well, yet Mara was impressed.

“Let me try without aid.” Rika said after a while.

Mara’s eyes looked with hers. “Are you sure?”

“Even if I fall, some dirt won’t kill me.” She answered with a mix of pride and determination.

Mara nodded. For the first few throws she remained close and offered Rika a hand when she fell. “No.” Rika said and stood up alone. Even that seemed like a struggle at first.

After half the day Mara was sitting on the warm ground of the Savannah while Rika continued. She had her eyes closed and tried to meditate. Something she did not dare for a long time. Too much a storm was in her mind, yet Rika’s presence gave her some ease, so did Branak who quickly laid down next to her. She felt the warm sun of the dry glades. Heard the distant sound of beasts she never knew, and from time to time Rika throwing and cursing. She couldn’t help but smile at the curses and the way her feet stomped away to gather the spears again. Yet soon she once more felt a different song in the wind. Something that echoed far from the west. It felt like the wind itself was in pain, fleeing in agony.

It felt wrong, so incredibly wrong.

Just as she felt Rika’s footsteps return she realised another pair of feet approached from the Mesa.

Branak raised his head and barked once. She stood up and turned together with Rika to see Thickskin walk at them. His eyes glared at Mara from below the Rhino on his head. Rika glared at him, and Branak stood up and growled. Looking at the two, he decided to ignore the Darkling for now and looked at Rika.

“How long?” He nodded at the missing arm.

“Few weeks.” Rika answered and readied a spear again.

He remained motionless but spoke with the same deep booming voice that he used to greet them. “Impressive.” He said and watched her throw the next spear, his eye glancing at Mara from time to time. “I have seen many warriors before that would lose their will to fight once they had lost theirs.”

Mara raised a brow. “You make it sound like there have been plenty.”

He glared at her and only stopped when Rika glared at him huffing. Then he answered, “He has been greedy over the years.”

Rika was about to throw a spear again but looked at him with a question on her face as well. “But not anymore.” She stated and glanced at him with a warrior's demand for answers. “Right?”

He shook his head. “I never saw reason in paying something with our blood so it could fight our battles.” His gaze became a warriors as well. “Let us bleed ourselves.”

Rika smiled with a hint of respect while Mara remained uneasy. “What is..he?” she finally asked plainly, granting her the look of both warriors.

Thickskin made a look of disgust “no wonder a darkling doesn’t underst~” “Shut it.” Rika barked at him with both her voice and eyes before she returned her gaze to Mara’s, struggling for words.

The western winds rose over the Savannah from the west, before she found any. “The voice of the wild, the druids called him.” “The master of the hunt.” Thickskin continued only to be cut by Rika again. “A thief!” she roared. “He took our blood and our warriors to be send at your home, with the promise of a good summer and an easy winter.”

Branak whimpered and sat down, granting him Rika’s eyes and pats.

“But winter still became hard.” Thickskin continued. “Even here.”

Rika nodded and looked at him with agreement. “A cold wind that came from the west, seasons ago. For a while it seemed as if the west and east wind were fighting over control, and if he truly was master of the warmth and the east, he lost. And finally more and more of our tribes stopped to pay him.”

“Only the oldest pact needed to be upheld, or he would take it by himself.” Thickskin ended their story, which made Rika huff in anger.

“Greedy bastard!" she roared, grabbed a spear again and threw it with all the might and anger she could offer. It flew far and wide, and couldn’t even be stopped by the wind before it planted itself deep into the tree. She nodded with a wide grin and shook her sore hand.

Mara’s concerned stare at their story was stopped by the spear hitting its goal. She smiled at Rika and her success before Thickskin spoke again. “Shame for the spear.” He said with a teasing grin. “You will never get it out in one piece.”

Rika just took the next spear and readied herself once more. “Bah! Take that tree and make plenty more.” “Trees aren’t as common here as they are in your home, Bloodspine.” he answered and made Mara’s brow raise once more, though this time with a smile. “Bloodspine?” she asked Rika. The huntress rolled her eyes and Thickskin looked in angry disbelief “You gave her your true name?!” After she threw another spear, this time missing, she glared back at him. “The names were only a tradition by him and his hunt. I won’t be held by him.”

Thickskin shook his head. “I thought Gruntheart was a man of tradition..”

“Oh you don’t know him well enough then.” Rika replied with a wide wicked grin that ended once she realised the growing wind.

Mara noticed the wind too, as wrong as it felt before. “We should get back.”

Rika saw the concern in Mara’s burning eyes and brought her hand to her arm. “What is it?” She asked plainly.

Thickskin raised a brow before Mara could answer, distantly. “Something feels wrong…”

When Thickskin readied himself to speak Rika was ready to cut him off, yet his words for once were not doubting the Darkling. “Some of the druids felt it too…” He uttered as he watched a few distant trees and the dry grass of the Savannah twist in the growing cold breeze.

Both Mara and Rika glanced at him with unease. “With the morrow we will hear your words, Darkling. I am tired of waiting for the last tribes.” He said and was about to walk back to the Mesa as Rika asked. “Who is still missing?”

“The coast tribes.” He answered as he continued to walk back. “Of the west…”