Chapter 4 - Declaration of War

Sar'tara groaned as she rolled onto her back. She had a splitting headache. Her feet were sore, her throat parched and her memory of the night before, much like the rest of her sisters, was hazy. She sat upright and ran a hand through her hair. She squinted, slowly adjusting to the light spilling through lidless windows in the small hut. A few of her sisters lay around her, some groaning and some still asleep. She often woke up in such a condition after a night of celebration.

She pulled herself to her feet and looked around. Her bone trophies lay scattered about, mixed with those of others. Her sisters would have a hard time distinguishing between their own necklaces and bracelets. For Sar'tara, finding her trophies did not take too long. Hers contained the largest bones after all.

She made her way outside, stretching to loosen stiff joints. Some of her older sisters —those that had refrained from heavy drinking— were breaking down pieces of charred wood from the night before. The ashes would make an excellent fertilizer. The Selharr maintained a small garden wherein year round root vegetables along with medicinal plants and flowers were grown.

Sar'tara yawned on her way to the gardens to pick up a few jasmine flowers. Kiali was among the women spreading ash dust, her hair still pulled back and bound in one long tail. She was the tallest of the Selharr, standing a half inch above Sar'tara. Even in her kneeling position, her height showed. "It's your turn to hunt next, is it not, Sister?" Sar'tara asked, approaching from behind.

"Yes. I aim to bring three wolves home by the end," the older huntress replied, not turning around.

Sar'tara raised an eyebrow. Bringing a single wolf was hard enough.

"One for each day," Kiali continued. Her tone didn't suggest a joke. "I must thank you, Tara. The leftovers of the Tricora you brought, along with the dried meat we have stored will last the village nine days at least. Maybe even a full Vega lunar cycle. Sister Stel'Na will not reprimand me for bringing home non edibles as she so often does."

"I believe wolves to be very useful," said Sar'tara. "This time of year especially. The warmth of their pelts are second to only bears and the knives carved from their bones are of the highest quality."

Kiali sniffed. "I'm glad someone sees it from my perspective. The cold of evernight can be rather bothersome." She turned around. "How is your arm, Tara?"

"Better." She caressed the bruise and grimaced at the memory —at her failure. "I was on my way to the pond for a bath," she replied quickly, blinking back tears and bending over to pluck a few flowers, their sweet scent hypnotizing.

"Jasmine… Look at you, preparing as if you're about to meet our Mother. Save some for me, your highness. For I will surely be granted an audience with Mother four days from now."

Sar'tara giggled. "Is it a sin to enjoy a blissful scent? Hmm. Your highness…? Is that not how plains dwellers address what is called a king or a queen?" she asked, digging through her memory. Ny'Danis would often tell stories of the outside from an ancient time thousands of years back. Of her old friends and great rulers of men. Sar'tara wondered if such things as kings and queens still existed in the outside.

Kiali shrugged. "I think so. You'd remember Mother's stories about the outside better than I, I suppose."

"We're only four years apart, Sister. Quit being so dramatic."

The older huntress rose from her kneeling position and stretched out. "Four years is enough time to forget things. Don't you miss it, Tara? Sitting in our Mother's lap while she told stories of thousands of years past? Stories of the Ashen Haired Boy who did betray. Of Lilith Lilac and her peerless beauty, whom Mother claimed outstripped her own. Of the War of Ashes and Mother's struggle against the Tortured Throne with her allies, the Flame Bearers." Kiali picked at the ash dust stuck beneath her nails. She frowned when they wouldn't come out. "Alright, I admit I was being a little dramatic. I do remember. How can I forget our Mother's beautiful voice while she sung us stories to sleep?"

"To think Kiali the Cruel has a soft side. They say you never cried when Mother sent you here." Kiali's eyes narrowed. Her frown deepened. A sly smile grew on Sar'tara's lips. "They also say you'd wake up in the morning, red eyed and black lines beneath."

"At least I didn't wail under the sun like Sorry Sar'tara! I'm more concerned about which sister labelled me cruel," Kiali said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

Sar'tara turned away, trying to mask her guilt. Not hunting edible animals was not the only reason for Kiali's reprimanding by Stel'Na. She often brought back wolves with more knife wounds than necessary. As a result, the wolf pelts were not always in desirable condition. It gave rise to strange rumors amongst the Selharri. Rumors questioning whether she hunted to prove herself, or hunted merely for sport. Hunting was the core of a Vashiri's life. Killing was not. Many knife wounds suggested Kiali either limited her use of the bow —the main chosen weapon of the Selharr by Ny'Danis— or she mutilated those she did hunt for unknown reasons.

"I do miss Mother dearly," Sar'tara said, changing topics. "I would also like to see the outside. See the great cities Ny'Danis would speak of. The never ending blue of the sea. The golden deserts. High mountain peaks and giant rock eating birds. The open plains as well. I've always had this fantasy of riding a war beast on an open plain. Imagine riding a horse. I do wonder what it would feel like to have the wind flowing past my face then!" Sar'tara realized she was making exaggerated movements near akin to dancing.

Kiali snorted. "Open plains are one place I'd rather not be. The plains are home to Silver Tail wolves which Mother said are much bigger than bears. Besides, it'd take many lifetimes to explore the outside. It's no place to wander alone. Even a Guardian shouldn't stray too far from the forest."

Sar'tara looked down. Her imaginations were only a fantasy. The outside was dangerous. There were people seeking to desecrate the forest and steal from Ny'Danis. That was why she needed Guardians. That was why she needed her daughters.

Kiali sighed as she looked to the sky. "This time for certain. This time, I'll bring back three wolves and earn the right to see Mother again."

Sar'tara smiled, gaining confidence from Kiali's own. "What is a daughter if she cannot please her Mother? I'm sure Mother Ny'Danis misses us as well."

Something pinched Sar'tara's side. She jumped. "Those are harsh words," Freya said, frowning at the other two women, arms crossed. Her dark hair flowed freely. "Am I a bad daughter for having left the path of Guardianship?"

"That was not my intent, Sister Freya," Sar'tara quickly said, shaking her head. "Forgive me if I have offended you."

"Not at all. Confidence is a good trait. But do remember, confidence will help build your path, while caution will light the way forward. Go now, if you're going to bathe, Tara. Before our siblings wake and the spring gets crowded."

Sar'tara nodded and left. There was a small spring north of the Selharr village. It was both the village's water source as well as a place for the sisters to cleanse themselves. Naiads frequented the spring often.

Dark feathered song birds cried out from atop the branches of elm trees surrounding the village. Leaves were beginning to change color. Fading greens mixed with slight yellows and oranges and reds. The beginning of the fading period just before evernight; a time when all trees have shed their leaves and cold winds whisper through a barren woodland canopy. Also mating season for the birds.

Sar'tara whistled along, mimicking the songs to the best of her ability. The winged creatures, fooled by her song, still approached her and fluttered around her head before disappearing. A small bee buzzed around her enclosed fist which held the jasmine flowers. She opened it and let it take what it had come for, its tiny legs tickling the center of her palm.

Sar'tara arrived before the spring. She hung her clothes on the branches of a young oak already missing a quarter of its leaves. A few scrubbing stones had been left at the side of the spring. Rough edged stones that helped with scrubbing grime and dirt off of the body. She set aside the scented flowers before grabbing a stone and stepping into the cool water.

Something suddenly grabbed hold of her leg and pulled her under. It was a naiad. The nymph smiled at her before pushing both of them to the surface. "Good mor-ning."

Sar'tara coughed and spat. Her insides hurt with each breath. They had yet to heal. "Not a good morning anymore."

The naiad looked genuinely shocked. "Oh no! Why not?"

"Forget it."

"Aww. But I was curious. Here for a bath? Is Sar'tara here to wash? I can wash your back! Can I wash your back?"

The huntress sighed. "Please be gentle." There was no harm in entertaining the nymph's whims. Her pale blue skin sparkled under the sun. Her dark eyes and hair length were all the same as the naiad from the night of the hunt. Even the body proportions seemed identical. Another reason Sar'tara tended to avoid the creatures. A Vashiri would never know if they were talking to a nymph that they'd already met. It often made for jarring and awkward conversations.

The naiad nodded eagerly. She slowly scrubbed Sar'tara's back while humming a tune. Something about the way she moved her hands was very relaxing. She moved to the front. Then gently scrubbed the limbs. Sar'tara didn’t complain, closing her eyes and letting the naiad do all of the work for her. It was as if the coarseness of the scrubbing stone didn't exist at all.

"Oh!" the naiad said, surprised. "Oh dear. Your arm is black. And blue too. Just like me. It should not be so. Have you hurt it?"

"Yes."

"How so? I really want to know!"

"It happened during my hunt not two nights past." Sar'tara looked down at her arm. The bruise was smaller and the dark colors had faded somewhat. Did Mother not say once that we Vashiri heal faster than normal humans, she thought. She couldn't quite recall. Not that she would know, having never stepped outside of the forest.

The naiad frowned. "But how? I didn't ask when… How! Tell. Me. Now!"

Sar'tara raised an eyebrow. Was this naiad the same one from the final night of her hunt? "One of the Kreiva Vashiri hit me."

"One of your sisters did!? One of our sisters? One of Mother's daughters? But that's so mean! Maybe they didn't mean to? Was it an accident? I saw some of them this morning. A little north of here. Maybe they come to apologize to Sar'tara?"

Sar'tara's brows furrowed. The Kreiva were within Selharr vicinity? It wasn't odd for a hunter to roam near a different Vashiri settlement. But the nymph said she saw some. Vashiri seldom left the vicinity of their own tribes unless hunting. She pushed herself away from the naiad, vaguely recalling Stel'Na's troubled words from the night before. "How long ago did you see them?"

"Early this mor-ning, three of them, two slee-ping. One awake, two drea-ming!"

Sar'tara didn't have time to think. Are they here to retaliate? But the kill was rightfully mine… She jumped out of the spring and began rinsing away the water as best she could with her hands alone. The naiad watched her curiously. She slowly moved to the edge of the spring and picked up the jasmine flowers. "These smell lovely."

"You can have them if you want them. I do not have time to use them," Sar'tara said as she dressed.

The nymph squealed with joy. "How did you know I wanted them?"

Sar'tara ignored the question. She double checked that her knives were still attached to the leather band before binding it to her thigh. The sun had been up for some time. The Kreiva, if they were going to the Selharr, would likely be arriving at the village soon. Sar'tara raced back home, struggling to do so. Extreme movements were still painful. Her vision blurred around the edges. It didn’t help that strands of her wet hair swung about wildly, whipping her back and occasionally getting stuck upon her face before the eyes.

Most of her sisters were still asleep by the time she arrived at the village. Freya was grinding medicinal herbs to a pulp while Kiali filled the bottom of her quiver with numbing poison. They briefly glanced Sar'tara's way as she burst into the clearing, jumping over a waist high fence of wooden stakes and rope, regretting it immediately as her landing sent needles through her insides. Then they looked past her.

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Kiali stood up, bow in hand and arrow nocked. Sar'tara spun around to see three Kreivan women not a few dozen feet from the village fence. All three had their dark hair tied in a bun. Circular bone ornaments hung from their pierced ears and nose. Sar'tara opened her mouth to speak but could only gasp for air instead, each breath a stabbing splinter in her lungs.

"What purpose is there in your coming to our village," Kiali demanded.

"Call your council, Selharri. We have come seeking settlement for a conflict. One that your tribe has started," the woman in the middle said. All of them were of similar height, but the middle one had the thickest arms and legs by far. Her hands were clenched in a fist. The outline of her bulging veins and flexed forearm muscles were made clear by the light of the sun shining against her smooth skin. And her abdomen shone like four polished blocks of clay stacked in two rows.

Sar'tara took a half step back, fearing a sudden attack. The Kreivan woman smirked at the signs of fear, causing Sar'tara to scowl and step up.

"You come here making demands without the appropriate greetings of respect?" Kiali asked. Her ash wood bow creaked as she slowly drew the bowstring back, though not raising to aim.

"Respect should only be expected when it is given. We have been disrespected by one from your tribe. Now call your council!"

"Settle down," Freya interjected, trying to mediate the situation. "We are all daughters of the Forest Mother here. She has created the tribes in equal. If you claim injustice has been done upon you, then we shall call a council. We ask for your patience. Our sisters are barely waking. We had held a celebration last night for a successful hunt."

"Stolen hunt, you mean," the middle Kreivan said. Sar'tara clenched her fists, though kept silent, not yet revealing herself as the huntress in question. "You say your elders are drunk on celebration? When your hunt had succeeded two nights past? Do you mean to tell me that your huntress had been incapacitated upon return? Was the damage done to their arm that overwhelming? And you. You are Sister Freya," the woman said, recognizing Freya's smaller form compared to the two other Selharr present, looking her up and down as a predator examines its prey. The word 'sister' seemed said with much disdain.

"You are Freya the Dishonorable," the Kreivan went on. "Your words mean nothing to us. You who has left the path the great Forest Mother hath ordained for us. The path of the Guardians. You are a shame upon the Selharr! Nay! A shame upon all Vashiri! It brings me immense disgust to know that I share blood with such a weak woman. You are no daughter of Ny'Danis. Hmph. Perhaps the Selharr shouldn't exist at all. Years without a single Guardian. It is no small wonder that your tribe has borne such a frail person!"

Sar'tara found her fingers wrapped around the hilt of a knife. There was pride, but this woman had exceeded the limits. She looked to Freya, seeking approval to defend the elder sister's honor. Freya's expression remained soft, not bearing even the slightest hint of disdain or resentment, leaving Sar'tara slightly confused.

"Enough!" Kiali cried. She fired a warning shot that grazed the Kreivan's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Sar'tara wondered if it'd been coated in poison. "We will endure claims of disrespect, but we will not endure insults to the tribe. Or any of its members. Sister Freya has the wisdom to recognize her own weakness. Can you Kreivan women claim the same? You may have the highest number of serving Guardians, but you also have the highest number of failures that have died during our Great Mother's Trials. Mother Ny'Danis bears in her womb whom she wills. She gives birth to whom she wills. You are her own daughters. Our sisters. To insult your own is to insult the Mother herself. Do you dare to sully the name of Ny'Danis by claiming Sister Freya has weak blood? Do you dare to sully our Mother's womb with your words? Do you dare blaspheme the deity of the Papillion Forest?"

Sar'tara bent her knees, preparing to jump if need be. The Kreivan woman twitched. One of her compatriots placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. The woman in the center wiped away the blood on her cheek with a thumb before licking it for a taste. She spat it out immediately, as if recognizing a foul taste mixed within. "It seems that I over spoke," she said, slurring over her words slightly. The numbing poison was affecting the movements of her face. "We shall wait for your council to prepare."

The Kreivan women sat near the village entrance with crossed legs and folded arms. Sar'tara sat next to Kiali, observing the three women as the Selharr village was slowly roused awake. The young girls of the Selharr stayed a long distance away from the women of the other tribe. All daughters of Ny'Danis were tall. But the Kreiva were a cut above the rest. Their height packed with their muscular form was enough to drive fear into the girls. They were seeing their rivals for the first time. Women against whom they would compete with for the forest's limited resources.

The same fourteen elder sisters sat cross legged in a circle, with the Kreivan women and Sar'tara participating. The former cringed to see Freya being a part of the council and glared at Sar'tara once realizing that she was their wanted thief. She glared back. Stel'Na looked to be annoyed to have woken up so early after a hangover. She had bags under her eyes and disheveled hair.

"State your names, daughters of the forest," Stel'Na said, half mumbling.

"Sar'tara Vashiri, daughter of Ny'Danis, huntress of the Selharr."

"I am Midrala Vashiri, daughter of Ny'Danis, huntress of the Kreiva. These are Ken'Via Vashiri, and Rea Vashiri, my elder siblings, and your sisters as well," the left most Kreivan woman said. The woman in the center, Ken'Via, had her entire mouth paralyzed and so they'd opted to have a single person introduce all three. The numbing poison would last the vast majority of the day before wearing off.

"You come with a claim of dishonor. A grave claim that I would hope your own council has discussed in length and sanctioned. You state that huntress Sar'tara has stolen a kill from one of the Kreiva Vashiri. Please explain yourselves. Sar'tara, you may present your defense afterwards."

Sar'tara nodded towards Stel'Na and turned to the Kreivans, wondering just what manner of absurdity they would conjure.

"It is as you say," Midrala began. "We have discussed this at great length, on the day of our huntress' return —who returned late in the evening, limping with an arrow in her knee. We waited until evening of the following day to set out of our village and come to yours, expecting that you would be tired from your inevitable celebrations. We did not expect that it'd be delayed by a day…"

It was an indirect insult. Sar'tara scowled but said nothing.

"Our huntress claims that her kill was stolen," Midrala said. "She claims rights to the Tricora Boar's death. She says that Huntress Sar'tara here ambushed her from within the trees and took the boar for herself. She also claims that she managed to put up a valiant fight before the effects of your… poison… took hold and she was immobilized." Midrala cracked her knuckles, mouthing the word 'poison' with twisted lips. To the Kreiva, weapons were a coward's tools. Poisons, even more so. "Her claims are made evident by the damaged left arm of huntress Sar'tara. These matters are not to be taken lightly. The killer maintains the rights of the kill. To steal… It would mean forfeiting one's rights to participate in Mother's Trials."

"What!?" Sar'tara exclaimed. Her heartrate increased with her rising temper. They were trying to deny her. Deny all the Selharr. Sar'tara's slaying of a great bear eight years prior had earned her a reputation amongst the sibling tribes. They knew her to have Ny'Danis' favor. They knew that she was one of the best chances the Selharr had in breaking the long running streak of failure.

The Kreiva didn't know that the council had already ruled against sending Sar'tara to the Trials. To the Kreiva, pride mattered more than wanting to see their Mother's will through. Pride mattered more than having the honor of serving their Mother. Competition existed to encourage a huntress' growth and create stronger Guardians. It didn't exist to create enmity.

Stel'Na raised an eyebrow at the accusations. "Sister Sar'tara, present your case and the council shall decide on the course of action."

Sar'tara exhaled, calming herself. There was no reason to pull any punches. "I'm afraid you've been lied to. The kill was rightfully mine. I brought down your huntress before finishing the boar off with a knife," she said, head held high, venom spewing from her glare.

Midrala narrowed her eyes. "You're telling me that you, managed to not only immobilize a Kreiva Vashiri huntress, but also hold back the boar at the same time? Was the boar injured? How did you have strength enough to finish it off, and how did you bring it back to your tribe alone? Your celebrations were delayed due to your obvious incapacitation. Explain this to us, huntress Sar'tara!"

"Indeed. It seems your huntress was not as capable as you deemed her to be," Sar'tara mocked. "Unlike Kreiva, the other Vashiri hunt more rationally. We use the tools the Forest Mother has provided us with to their utmost. I'd already poisoned your huntress before she was aware of me. That undoubtedly slowed her. Still though, as you said, she put up a valiant effort. She managed to run into me while I had an arrow nocked. She brought me down and managed a blow to my arm. But she'd also managed to stab herself with my arrow. Had she thought with her head rather than with her muscles, perhaps she'd have prevailed. But with a poisoned arrow lodged into her thigh, I managed to come out on top."

Sar'tara flexed her fists and continued. "As for my incapacitation, that was no result of your huntress, but rather a fault of my own," she said, looking away to feign disinterest. "I was high on the effects of a kresip flower. It left me at death's door by the time I made it back to the village. As I said, we Selharr use everything at our disposal. Even the very limits of our life," she declared through closed teeth, turning back to now see the Kreivan reactions. "That is how far we would go to please our Mother."

Rea maintained a neutral expression while Ken'Via and Midrala glared, the folds in their skin deepening as if Sar'tara had just admitted to cheating in some capacity. Rea seemed to be the only one considering both sides of the argument.

Sar'tara folded her arms and closed her eyes as the Selharr council muttered amongst themselves. All the facts were laid before them. There was no reason to glare back at them. The Selharr council would not vote against her. Even if they did, she had already been denied a meeting with Ny'Danis. The Kreiva would think that they'd won and leave without further incident.

"It seems we are at an impasse," Stel'Na said. "There is no way for us to know whom amongst you speaks the truth. Huntress Sar'tara bears the wound of being struck by one of the Kreiva Vashiri. Proof enough of a conflict. The boar, as I recall, bore no wounds of blunt trauma. Nor was its neck broken. It had two arrows lodged within. One on the head and the other through its windpipe. I saw no evidence that it'd been slain by the bare hands of one of your huntresses, Sister Midrala. Huntress Sar'tara also arrived at our village with blood rolling down her eyes and mouth. Evidence enough for the usage of kresip. This council would rule in favor of Sar'tara. But surely you would not travel to our village to conjure lies and spread falsehoods. Do you have any further evidence against our huntress' words?"

"…No," Midrala hissed through her teeth.

Sar'tara couldn't help but allow a satisfied smirk to appear.

"Very well. All who believe Sar'tara to have rightfully slain the boar?" Stel'Na asked, going about concluding the hearing formally.

Thirteen hands went up.

Kiali kept her hand down, shrugging as the council looked to her with questioning eyes. Sar'tara saw hints of mischief on her twitching lips. She was offering the Kreiva a disgraced consolation prize by voting in their favor.

"There you have it then," Stel'Na said. "Claims of disrespecting the forest's laws are not to be taken lightly. We are pleased that you've come to discuss your grievances, but we unfortunately cannot do much further for you. There were no biases in our decision today. Evidence overwhelmingly supports our own huntress. I say this on my honor as a former Guardian of the forest. You are free to share a meal with us before I must ask you to leave."

Midrala stood up in a fit of rage. "This decision is unacceptable! It strips the Kreiva of their honor! Your council would imply that our own huntress is a liar? That a daughter of Ny'Danis would dare to lie?"

Stel'Na slowly stood up as well. Her former glory and fighting spirit bled from her confident stance. Her unruly hair made her seem all the more intimidating. Though she stood more than a half head below Midrala, the glare of her golden eyes sent shivers down Sar'tara's spine. "We make no implication here. Your reaction is unwarranted. We say as we've seen. Evidence states that your huntress has lied. To rule otherwise would make not only our own huntress a liar, but our entire council as well. Honor demands you respect the decision of our council!"

"Honor is dead! We respect nothing when you've spat upon the Kreiva Vashiri name. This decision reeks with bias."

Sar'tara slowly stood as well, mimicking Stel'Na's confident stance. "Do you wish to deny me that much!? Is your ego so great that you'd stomp on others?"

"All fourteen of you have voted against us," Midrala claimed, ignoring Kiali's silent insult. "We will let the Mother decide our fate. On my honor as a daughter of Ny'Danis, I hereby make a declaration of war against the Selharr. Surely the victors of this war will be the ones with whom truth stands. The ones with whom the Great Mother stands!"

The other members of the council gasped. Sar'tara's lips parted. She never imagined the Kreiva would go so low. No… They didn't come here to deny me. They should have at least suspected that the council would take my side. It had always been their intent to start a war. A war that started with the mere slaying of a boar. Their goal was the annihilation of the Selharr. Sar'tara swallowed. Were her rivalling sisters truly willing to go to such a length?

"You'd make such a heavy decision without the permission of your own council?" Stel'Na demanded, fists clenched.

"Honor is indeed dead," Kiali said, finally breaking her silence. "Theirs, that is. They never planned to respect our council's decision."

"We came here with the permission of our own council," Rea said, standing up as well. Her voice was softer than one would expect and her full lips were curled opposite a smile. Ken'Via also stood up, though with shaky legs. The paralysis was spreading through her body. "We have been given full authority to represent all Kreiva Vashiri," Rea continued. "I stand with Sister Midrala. If she has declared war, then we are now at war."

"Pray to Mother Ny'Danis, Selharri," Midrala sneered. "Pray for forgiveness. But it is too late to turn back now. The days of your tribe are numbered. If the Selharr have abandoned their honor, then we, as daughters of the Forest Deity, will take it upon ourselves to destroy you. The Mother's blessings will surely be with us, the truthful."

"Excuses," Sar'tara said. "You don't need to justify your declaration. Your intentions are clear."

"We'll see with whom Mother's blessings truly lie," Kiali spat. "I'd stick all three of you with arrows right this moment but I still have honor and self-respect. Get out of our village!"

The Kreivan women stormed off. Other members of the Selharr village stared in wonder. Things had taken a turn for the worst. "It seems your opportunity to meet the Mother has come faster than anticipated, Sar'tara," Stel'Na said, shaking her head. "A war is also a proving ground for us Vashiri. An opportunity for us to send multiple sisters to take the Guardian Trials."

"But, we're all sisters, are we not? Why must we kill one another? Surely Mother can mediate between us?" Sar'tara asked. She was infuriated. She wanted an opportunity to prove herself. But she didn't want it like this. "No matter how low they stoop, blood daughters should not kill each other."

"Alas, this is what I feared," Stel'Na said. "Battles have happened before. All of them instigated by the Kreiva. Once when I was eight, before any of you were born. Not twenty years later, they started a conflict with the Mäkhain Vashiri as well. Freya will have remembered this one." Stel'Na closed her eyes. "Bloody conflicts, both of them. The Kreiva are always looking to prove their superiority. If Ny'Danis was against this, then we would have known. I'm afraid Mother approves of conflict. Promotes the creation of stronger Guardians, I suppose."

"But… All for a boar…" All her life Sar'tara had been trained to hunt. Hunt animals that is. She didn't hesitate to fire at another huntress. But that was because she knew that the woman wouldn't die. But you left her paralyzed within the Papillion. Where wolves and bears roam at night. Is that not the same as a death sentence? The same as killing her yourself?

But the woman hadn't died. She'd returned and lied. A lie that would lead to the deaths of many siblings. Sar'tara closed a fist at her chest. She would kill her own siblings to also protect her own siblings. A seemingly pointless conflict. One that she was forced to face.

But huntresses could not afford half measures. Her end goal was still attaining her Mother's acknowledgement. Attaining the seat of a Guardian. She steeled her resolve. She would see her goal through or die trying.