"Alana, now what?" Irema said, tears flowing down her reddened face. Her green eyes twitched. "My mother is still in the village. How can I rejoin her now? What can we do? You've led us this far, away from her and all the ones we love. Now what?"

Alana shook her head, holding Irema's hand. But she pulled her hand away and turned her face to the side, wiping her nose with her palm.

"Irema," Alana murmured, leaning in. "We've been through much worse. You can't let this defeat you. I am doing everything I can, believe me, there's nothing more important in this world for me. Just be patient, we will find a way to get back and free them."

Irema panted. "I have lost everything," she said, wiping her eyes. "Now, the only thing that's left is my hope of seeing my mother again. Don't take that away from me."

Alana sighed. "Irema, you know me, you know my only concern here is for us to reach our goal. To see our loved ones again and retake our land. It's not my fault that they don't want to help us, but we'll find a way."

"But how long? How?"

"Irema. Are you losing your faith in me?"

"I just want to know."

"I wish I knew, just give me some time."

Irema looked down. "I will go back myself, it doesn't matter if they kill me," Irema said, wiping her tears for one last time.

"Just trust me, Irema," Alana said, extending her hand, but her best friend turned away and walked out of the tent.

The curtain opened, Raxana walked through, wearing a long tunic and trousers, but Alana's mind remained fixed on her friend. That hurt. Seeing Irema like that felt like a boulder hanging from her neck. And it was all up to her.

She was confident that there was a way to fight and win, but it was damn hard to know how. Maybe gather the few who did want to help her and ride with them, even if they were five or six.

"Alana, someone wants to see you," said Raxana.

Alana clenched her teeth, thinking again that a villager would scold her or call her father a traitor. She was fed up with that. They didn't know anything about him. How could they decide if he was a traitor or not? She wished she could prove the entire world wrong. They didn't understand. They had not gone through what she had, and not even she could decide whether she could judge her father. All she knew was that he died with a sword in hand.

Alana rolled her eyes, but nodded at Raxana and followed her out. The sky was purple, the sun setting in the plains, becoming smaller and orange like an egg yolk. Venus could already be seen on top, and below, among the yurts, Alana recognized the black-haired woman who had smiled at her. She was wearing a purple coat, dotted, with fur trimmings at the edges, and hemp trousers with vertical beads on each side.

Alana lowered her head.

"Alana? Alana, daughter of Alan?" the woman asked, with wide blue eyes and a silly smile.

"At your service, ma'am."The woman chuckled, her freckled cheeks revealing small dimples. "It couldn't have been more obvious. Would you come visit me at my home?"

"Your home?" Alana raised an eyebrow and glanced at Raxana, who stood with her arms crossed and a suspicious smile on her face.

Alana cleared her throat. "I am afraid I don't know you. Who are you?"

"My name is Ira," she said, widening her smile even further.

"Ira?" Alana narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

"I knew your parents," she announced with a slight nod.

"Ah, good."

"So, please."

"Thank you," Alana said, eyeing Raxana, who nodded at her.

Ira and Alana wandered through the camp. Ira bobbed her upper body a bit as she walked, and her legs were arched, like those of an experienced rider.

Ira lived in a wide yurt surrounded by a movable fence. A white horse pastured freely behind the wooden beams, and a long rope hung from one side of the fence to the yurt, where half a dozen hemp jackets and trousers hung to dry.

"Come on in," she said with a smile, opening the fence. "It's simple, not like the houses your people built, but it's home."

"It's wonderful," Alana said, following her.

"I'd like to introduce you to my friend Tistriya," Ira said, prancing through the yard, and the white horse reacted immediately upon hearing his name, approaching her with its ears forward.

"Hello, boy." Ira presented her hand. Alana caught a glimpse of a small cube in her palm, perhaps hardened honey or some kind of candy. The horse licked it off her hand. Ira then petted his forehead with one hand. "He used to be the fastest, now he's a bit out of shape."

"The fastest? I guess you were in the war."

"I was, but I was not a soldier. I was a messenger. Chieftain's messenger."

"Chieftain?" Alana asked, opening her eyes wide. "The great Skapasis?"

Ira giggled.

"Great? Is that how your father called him?"

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"Eh, my father... My father did not talk much about him, but my uncle did."

"And I wonder why..."

"So you know him, and my mother?"

"I did," she said, without removing her gaze from the horse. She petted him again.

"What was my mother like?"

Ira turned slowly toward her.

"A great leader, a brave woman, and a cunning warrior."

Alana smiled.

"You look just like her," Ira continued. "Just your head is shaped like your father's. You're an exact mixture of both, in a way."

"Okay, thank you, I guess."

"So, come on in, I've got a lot to show you," Ira said, guiding Alana into the yurt. Alana heard an animal noise and peeked through the side before entering. She noticed two smaller horses and a goat behind the yurt.Ira's yurt was neat and organized. Light entered through the wide curtains, and the air flowed through the entrance, freshening it. Layers of colorful carpeting covered the floor, except for the area around the iron chimney, which stood in the center, clean of any debris or coal. Alana noticed glass vases sealed with hemp. Some held milk or yogurt, while others contained serum and cheese. They were piled against the edge and shielded in a wooden box. More boxes and chests were piled on one side of the yurt, and a beautiful bow of bone and sinew hung from one end of the walls.

"Take a seat," Ira said. Alana looked around but did not find a place to sit. "On the floor, silly," Ira muttered.

"Oh, right," Alana said, pulling the skirt of her robe to sit.

"Why are you dressed like that? Are you riding a horse around in those? You're wearing rags!"

"Oh, it's fine, don't worry about it," Alana said.

"Give me a second." Ira turned her back to her and walked toward a wooden chest in the far corner. She opened it, revealing many folded robes and trousers. "Try this on." Ira pulled out a pair of red riding trousers, wiped them, and offered them folded to Alana.

"This?" Alana asked, surprised, and received the gift solemnly. "Thank you, but I don't think I need it."

"Come on, it's for you, try it on."

"No, please, I'm okay."

"How can you ride to battle like that?"

Alana blinked and glanced at them again. They were of excellent quality. She felt shy about accepting such a gift at that time, but it would really come in handy.

"Fine," Alana said, offering Ira a shy smile.

"Please make yourself comfortable. I'm really glad to finally meet you, you've got no idea."

"Finally?" Alana raised an eyebrow.

Ira turned her back again and walked to the other side, where the glass vases were.

"Wait!" she said. "This is a great moment. We've got to celebrate it."

"So, you met my parents, right?" Alana said. She liked Ira. It had made her a bit uncomfortable with the sudden welcoming and kindness, but after running away and being called a traitor by half the town, it felt like heaven now.

Ira came back with a tray, a woven basket lined with a hemp cloth, and an assortment of cheese inside, as well as two clay vases full of fresh mare's milk on top. She carefully placed it on the floor.

"Have some," Ira said with a big smile.

"Thanks," Alana muttered. Cheese was a delicacy. She grabbed a big, soft piece of goat cheese and instantly felt refreshed by the salty, musky flavor.

"Try the blue one," Ira said proudly. "Wait, swallow this one first. Yes, savor it."

"Nice," Alana said, grabbing the vase next to her and swallowing a mouthful of milk. It was mare's milk, a delicacy she missed from the village. "It's only been three months, and this feels like coming back home after a long journey."

"I'm glad you like it," Ira said. "Now, if you excuse me." She grabbed a piece of cheese and chewed on it slowly. She shut her eyes and inhaled. "It's amazing, I love cheese so much," she said, with her mouth full, and small crumbs showing on her teeth.

After there was no more cheese left.

"Please don't ask for more, yet," Ira said. "I may finish it."

Alana sighed.

"That was wonderful. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I'm glad you enjoyed it. So, I was telling you. Fifteen years ago, we were so worried about your mother. She sent me with an urgent message. She had to talk to your father. We didn't know why. I found him, then I rode with him the entire way from beyond the Danabius river to the White Mountains. He was dead worried about your mother, and it turns out she was expecting you and did not want our Chieftain to know."

"Me?"

"Yes! I was so happy to know. Of course, we lost your mother. That was sad, but you were his only joy in the world."

"I see," Alana said, lowering her face. She wished with all her heart to know her mother.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your father. And your mother too. I wish I could help you in any way."

"Well, you're helping, but . . . It's . . ."

Alana had to tell her what she felt. Maybe she wouldn't believe her, but if only she could help her.

"You heard me up there, the only thing I need now is an army. Many have died, and the people you know and love. We must liberate them."

Ira took a slow, deep breath. For an instant, Alana thought she would make the situation uncomfortable. She got ready to get scolded again.

"I see," Ira muttered, not moving her blue eyes away from her.

What did that reaction mean? Was she just being polite? Alana went for it.

"Miss Ira, I need to raise an army. I do not know where I can get it, but I would do anything to find it."

"That's all? Well . . . Listen, I am a member of the Tribal Council. Let me be honest. Varalkas doesn't want to help. Actually, not a single one of the leaders wants to. And there's a reason why. The plague, you know. And there's another reason, but don't tell anyone."

"What?"

"The pest started two months ago, after a single event." Ira took a deep breath. "Varalkas told the council not to let anyone know. He said he himself wasn't sure."

"But what caused it?"

"It started when an Itruschian delegation brought a charity offer, bringing biscuits and blankets."

Alana raised an eyebrow.

"So, was the food poisoned with plague?"

"Either the food or the blankets. The people started finding lice in it. It is known that winter lice causes terrible illnesses. Anyway, Varalkas wanted to suppress this idea. He said he was protecting our people."

"So, they did . . . What? They wanted to wipe this camp off?"

"And they're doing it well. Cases have receded, but it's still going on. And lice passes from people to people. Old people have dealt with this in war and found ways to reduce it."

"What can we do?"

"The damage is done. We must take care of our people, making sure they wash and boil the robes where they sleep. But it's hard to change old habits."

Ira stood up.

"Anyway, they won't help you, but I have another proposal for you."