Marika cut her way through the heavy cloth that served as a doorway in the cutlery shop she had been crouching in as she dashed through the market towards freedom. The former Quester, and now former revolutionary was straining her aura to it's limits as she fled her crumbling seat of power. Her aura shuttered, she could feel it breaking, with each breath she postponed it's shattering.
She needed to escape. Once she was free of the city she could begin rebuilding herself, rebuilding her power.
Climbing a nearby building with her bare hands the woman who would be Chief of all she saw scanned ahead. The clans enforcers were hunting throughout the city, but they were few compared to the city's ever expanding bulk. She had a clear path to the gardens, for now.
A shiver went over her, and she checked her belt.
The talisman, a carved wooden eye, snapped in her palm, the pieces falling away. Marika shivered, both in flesh and aura. The clans had found her bastion, silenced her Mages. There was no going back now.
Why didn't they listen? she seethed. Twelve days and we could have finished the preparations. But no, one little council meeting and everyone cowers like a herd of rotspawn is bearing down on us. I should never have let those fools talk me into this.
While lamenting her lost empire Marika dashed for the edge of the city. Homes fell away, blood soaked processing building, and shabby farming storerooms replacing them.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a pod of women racing inwards. She held her breath, deciding whether to hide or flee. The pod made the decision for her, changing directions to charge directly towards her hiding spot.
She cursed the Mages, who couldn't even hold the spell masking her presence until she was out of the city, then burst back into a sprint.
The pod was closing. With Hunter's among their number it was a matter of time before Marika would be caught. Her only hope was that she could create some distance in shadow of the crops and make it to the untamed Green. They wouldn't follow her after that, chases were far too noisy. Besides, unless someone in her burgeoning clan had learned far too much, and been captured as well they wouldn't know she was the Chief of this new age. As far as her pursuers were concerned she was just another assassin fleeing into the night.
Or midday anyway.
Her gamble paid off once she reached the shaded pathways. A few faked turns and clever uses of her rapidly degrading aura and she was as good as invisible. The silence came naturally to the former Quester, and after a long stretch spent hidden under a pile of compost the pod gave up, returning to their patrol.
Freedom came at a cost. Hiding from a single pod under a pile of rotting plant matter and bones shattered the last of her aura violently. It was all Marika could do not to scream from the pain.
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Images of her newfound clan danced in her mind as she wavered near unconsciousness. It had all gone so well since she had changed her Quest to something more ambitious. She gathered women to her new clan, most of whom were laborers what had seen only the shadow of a true Hunter's strength, and spoken boldly of the old ways. The glorious duels, the constant struggle. When the women of the city were free in the way of their nomadic kin. Where a leader had to be strong and fearless, not cowering behind politics and champions. A time when every woman had to fight for herself, or her household if she was being generous.
It was a time of proper power, where all women were Hunters, or belonged to those who were. There was no need for street sweepers, or rubbish collectors. No place for merchants, or lesser craftspeople. Where the forges produced steel in abundance, but not for farming tools, weapons flowed like water in their place.
Certainly some of the weaker willed women would fall to the side, or be used as the basis for stronger households, but was it not worth it for the chance to be a champion? In her new city, under Marika's tender gaze, a woman, any woman could rise, dueling and hunting until she could claim all that she was owed.
So many women passed over, rejected when they tried to join the Hunters, or even the Scavengers. Sent back before they could test themselves in the true gauntlet of the Green.
Marika knew the truth. A woman didn't truly know herself until that first night alone in the dark. Away from the campgrounds, separated from any ally. That's when a woman learned who she was. If she could survive in this world, or if she even deserved to.
It was why the city was an affront to who they were, why so many women, safe in their lowly duties, came to her, their hearts burning even as their auras wilted. In time, when she returned and set this weak city ablaze, she would send every woman who remained into the Green. The survivors would form a new city, superior to this rotting hive.
Yes, that was my mistake. Marika thought with bile rising in her throat. I led a band of stumbling weaklings. Once the fools return to their safety and warmth I'll gather a new set, no more skulking in the dark and stabbing farmers, I'll take them into the Green, and we'll forge a proper clan. It will take some convincing. Their minds have been poisoned, they fear death. But that's fine. I only need a few competent women anyway. Once the council bleeds out the rest will fall in line.
The cracked and broken remains of the woman's aura twisted and sparked. A new flame rose from the shattered remnants, dark and swirling as it bloomed with thoughts of conquest.
I'll forge a throne of steel, quenched in the blood of my enemies. The woman mused. And have their bonds dance for my amusement. It's only fair after my belittlement. If they wanted a different outcome they should have sought me out for a duel, as is proper. Still, I'm no beast, I'll let their daughters take my new trials the same as the rest. Perhaps with their hands bound behind their back, just to make it fair for those who didn't benefit from so much training.
As the woman's thoughts slipped into darker and darker fantasies she dug her way free of the compost pile. She slipped between the ripening fruits lining the path with a snort of derision. True women gathered their fruits from the wild Green if they were too weak to hunt meat. Or they left it to their bonds or servants for variety if it amused them. Still, Marika was feeling a touch of hunger after her escape. She began to pluck the juiciest fruit she passed, taking a single bite before tossing it behind her.
The former Quester, now failed revolutionary, and perhaps something more, hummed as she worked her way to the edge of the city's claimed land. Her aura was returning, feeling even stronger than it had, and she delighted in her newfound power.
Who else could have her aura shattered and reformed in so short a time? she marveled. I was born to rule. To stand above all others, and rise to crush all challengers. I am a Chief, and no one will ever deny me again. I shall save this city from itself, and claim my due reward. Even if it takes a river of blood for the rest of these rot born fools to realize the truth of my claim.
Marika stepped onto a root, creeping into the underbrush of the Green, grand plans of her return already set.
Chief RazorRiver wouldn't learn of her escape for three days.