The Essence of Balencia

The Mirage in The Desert

The rain on Lalzari's soul companions grave site should've been a cliche, but somehow, it wasn't. It fell softly over the newly-turned soil, patting it down with gentle hands. A flutter startled Lalzari and turned into a whippoorwill, it's tiny claws scratching at the stone. Lalzari breathed the smell of dirt, rain and grass.

"Husayrah would've liked this place" Lalzari muttered.

"You were right princess. Without Husayrah, The Sirs have turned into the dunes of a desert. Our crops don't grow, our families are in shambles and our fights are complied with losses. One by one everyone is being killed. I should've appreciated Husayrah when she was alive but I was neglectful. I haven't been a man too her." Zunaid confessed. Lalzari was in a loss for words of what she was hearing from the stubborn warrior. Perhaps it was time to lay their difference behind them.

"Husayrah was the backbone of The Sirs but with her gone you have to be the new one. You have to work hard for the kids, for your wife, for your family and to honour Husayrah. She wouldn't want The Sirs to fall apart. Don't let her death be in vain. And I'll help you wherever I can" Lalzari bespoke whilst the rain added background blues to the conversation between the two.

"You've done more than enough. Fillard isn't very present after what happened to Hidayam so Ahmali has to fend for herself. But... You've healed that child and protected her and made her stronger. I can see it. Thank you" Lalzari once again became speechless as she wasn't use to this friendly version of Zunaid. Perhaps the death of Husayrah really had taken a harsh hold on the tribe's leader.

"No need to thank me, I love her dearly. Just work hard for your tribe. I will need your support when I take down Laham" Lalzari explained.

"Oh I have greatly misunderstood you. I'm at your service" Zunaid exclaimed as he bent his knee to the wet ground resting his hand on it in submission to his new leader.

"Zunaid I... I'm sorry too. You was right, I didn't know your side of the story I misunderstood you too" Lalzari exclaimed back as she too went on both of her knees raising his rank as equals to her.

"I'm going to be your most loyal soldier from now on!" Zunaid roared so loud that the deceased probably heard it.

"I'm going to rely on you!" Lalzari answered back as the two had made a pack of alliance.

"I forgot your name princess"

"Call me Balencia" Lalzari said proudly knowing she had honoured Husayrah's life by naming herself, and the first time she announced her name out loud was in the presence of the weeping willow herself.

They headed back to the tents as Zunaid had requested a feast and for the re-named warrior to speak with Fillard and possibly advice him before going to her next mission. And in all fairness the exhausted vixen hadn't had a proper meal ever since she met the twins and even though it wouldn't be for long a little rest was needed for her to recharge.

Lalzari sat in Ahmali's room with layers of duvets provided by the loving Sirs that wanted her to feel welcomed and warm. She had indulged in a big meal and afterwards handed a pot of herb infused tea. The tent was decorated with glass lanterns lit up with a burning flame, and string lights giving a golden glow during the night. Ahmali was quiet but a sadness had overtaken her.

"Ahmali, what's wrong?" Rehamal asked as she and Lalzari had shared stares both aware that something was troubling the little warrior.

"I don't like being back home... I asked Baba to come read me a bedtime story and sleep next to me but he..." The little maiden didn't need to say more for Rehamal and Lalzari to know what she might have been feeling. Fillard was an interesting character. He was loving and warm to most of the people he interacted with yet so distant with his own daughter. It was a shame to see such an easygoing child being neglected by her father.

"I don't know what to do" Ahmali expressed to Lalzari who sat with her shoulders slouched down in despair from her tone. There was nothing she could say that would ever make the little maiden feel any better. She knew how it would all end for things always end the same. She just stood with her eyes pierced on the floor trying her best to not be present.

"Baba once said he likes it when I take care of myself... He said he likes it when I'm myself and Ahmali wants her Baba regardless of his mood so I shall go out and seek him" she punchered with such pain in her voice it made her words shake like crystals under pressure. Lalzari nodded knowing that there was no words she could utter that would change anything.

Ahmali walked over to her dresser as she poured potent argan oil over her hands and drowned her face in it leaving it in a silky glow. She then opened the drawer and took out red clay, wet it to activate the colour and covered her lips in a bright deep magenta. She added some to her cheeks too. Lastly, she took out her roll on musk and applied the scent to her neck and wrists dabbing a bit over her clothes for a lingering scent. "Perhaps now he'll notice me because I look like mama..." The sweet child muttered. She had hoped that the uncovered hints of memory would be enough to remind him of their good times as a family.

Ahmali poured the sweetest smile over her face as she walked out to the common room. Lalzari followed her just enough to see it all but not be seen. She had seen this kind of feminine behaviour before. A female trying her best to adhere to a man be that her lover or father and please him to only be let down. The weeping willow had enough tales for this kind of thing.

Lalzari watched as Ahmali walked in and approached him as he sat on the floor legs crossed emerged into a book. "Feeling any better, Baba?" She asked as she caressed his hair like a cat stroking itself against its owner and sat down next to him.

"I said I was better" he replied back starring her deep into her eyes without a single hint of a smile. His expression cut parts of Ahmali that she would never be able to get back. She had done it again, the one thing she promised she would never do... She once again, was humiliated for her fathers love.

"I'm not coming to read for you" Fillard said sharply as he shot her a fake smile and got up before disappearing into another room. She sat there on the ground like a deserted flower starved by the sun's heat.

"As soon as you give too much of yourself they lose a little bit of love" she muttered as her lips quivered holding back tears of despair. She looked up at Lalzari, her eyes calling and longing for something that would never be hers. She then turned her head to Rehamal who stood in the background. Normally Rehamal was known to be fiesty but today she stood silent.

Ahmali got up slowly with a body that shook as she tried to calm herself. With her head down she escaped into the room once more closing the door behind her. Then at last, the tears of one who tried and got rejected could be heard. Weeping louder than the weeping willow and gasping harder than the unknown maidens. Ahamli had become one of them all.

"When a flower blooms for you, you should never let it wither in your presence" Lalzari boasted as she looked at Fillard that could be seen with his back turned against the bunch.

"Fillard? Why do you always hurt her?" Rehamal asked but he didn't reply nor turn back to acknowledge the question.

"One day Fillard... One day that flower will no longer bloom for you" Lalzari said as she hoped the father would feel some sense of love or longing for Ahmali. He turned his head slightly towards his shoulder and that in itself was enough for Lalzari to know he had listened.

"If you nurture the flower you'll be the one to enjoy the fruits. If you neglect it she will find nurture in that which doesn't bring her pain" Lalzari contuined now knowing the stubborn Sirs was listening.

"Don't let your time run out. For once it does, you'll never be able to reset" Lalzari concluded as she threw her shawl around her. Before she headed out she muttered under her breath loud enough for him to hear.

"Don't create another Husayrah Bint Zunaid and don't let time slip away like with Hidayam" And nothing could have been more direct than that. As she was leaving she could hear Ahmali's weeping cries and could only pray her lord heals her. Her cries were that of a dying rose. Which once was protected by thorns and soil had exposed itself in the risk of fatherly love.