Sancha: A Spirit Animals Story

New Land

Sancha ended up reaching a shoreline eventually, though didn't know where in the world she'd ended up. Only later did she discover she was in Nilo. 

The first people she met following her arrival in this new place were a pair of Niloan fisherman. They seemed to try speaking to her, but Sancha knew nothing of their language and, fearing trouble or attack, quickly ran for cover. She hid in some underbrush for a while until she was discovered by another stranger. This time, she could understand what was being said to her, as the man who found her appeared to speak the common language, albeit with an accent. 

"Are you lost, girl?" the man asked. Sancha didn't answer. She feared she might give herself away somehow. Though she understood what he said, it mattered little. 

What do I do? she wondered to herself. 

Doubtless if she gave any indication of her identity or origins, she'd be killed, or worse, taken as a prisoner. 

"Well?" the man asked. Silence.

"Do you speak?" he asked. Reluctantly, Sancha nodded slowly. 

"Where did you come from then?"

She shook her head, and before she could stop, tears began to fall don her cheeks. The man, taken aback by her reaction, pushed her no further with questions. Seeing her bedraggled, mildly sunburned, and rather thin, he decided the girl was ill. The nearest village wasn't far, and there was a healer who could help her get her strength back. 

"Alright, don't cry. Look, you don't look well. Let me take to Ola. She's a healer. She can fix you up a bit."

Sancha wasn't keen at first, and was inclined to run off again, but she decided she'd raise more alarm and questions if she did run away. So, reluctantly, she allowed the stranger to lead her to this, Ola.

Ola turned out to a gentle woman, middle aged and graying, her hair cut short, not passing her ears. She lived in a small hut near the shore, old, cracks in the wall serving for windows, and covers by palm leaf curtains that waves in the salty breeze. The roof was riddled with cracks too, but as rain barely came any more in Nilo, it seemed no one bothered to tend to the openings. It was lit by a pair of small oil lamps that gave off a strong odor that Sancha found neither disgusting nor pleasant. 

Ola rubbed an ointment on Sancha's skin for the sunburn, but mostly gave her water from a clay bowl and some nuts to chew on to help her adjust to normal amounts of food. Sancha silently did everything the woman told her to do. After a day or so, the woman finally broached the subject of where she'd come from. When Sancha remained as silent as she had when she'd arrived, Ola, surprisingly perceptive, lead her out to a spot covered in sand and handed her a stick. 

"I'll ask you a question, and if you don't want to speak, than write here." Sancha was comfortable with this.

"Where are you from?" Ola asked.

Sancha scratched out the words "far away" in the sand with the pointed stick. 

"How old are you, girl?"

Sancha erased the previous response with her foot, and then wrote the number '11' in the sand. 

"You've had your nectar, then?" Ola asked.

Sancha paused. Nectar. The word almost made her cringe. The magic elixer that the Greencloaks hoarded, denied her homeland for so many centuries. The nectar could have saved her parents. Her mother had been killed by the bonding sickness, and her father sister were plagued by it without end. 

She wondered if she were to say no, whether or not Ola would suspect her of being from the Devourer's lands. Or maybe she wouldn't. How much did ordinary people even know of her home? It would hardly surprise her if Stetriol had been wiped from existence in the eyes of the rest of Erdas. It would be a simple and effective means of further isolating them. 

Before she could settle on what to say, Ola responded, clearly taking her hesitation as an answer.

"No, then." Sancha kept a blank look.

"If you had, then you wouldn't have hesitated," Ola said. "Do not worry child. It's not too late. There's a greencloak here who can give it to you. I'll have her come tomorrow morning." Ola sighed. "It's a good thing we found you. Another few years and you might have been too far gone to save."

Sancha decided to accept this. She might as well get over with it. If she was to spend a long time here, she might as well not have to deal with the bonding sickness. She would drink the nectar and then leave immedietely before the Greencloaks had any chance to question her further. It was a labor to be borne. She would allow it. Yet she would hate every second of it.

Hi everybody. I hope you enjoy this fic so far. I haven't written any fanfics in a long time, but this an idea I've had in my head for a while. Please give your feedback and thoughts on what I've done so far. It's always appreciated. And forgive my grammar and punctuation mistakes. Once I've gotten a significant way into the story, I'll revisit earlier chapters and make edits.