Cursed: Traitor's Trail

Chapter 3 part 1

The tangles of the sagebrush felt reassuring, hovering protectively over the encampment. The branches keeping the Monthoda from the sight of airborne predators. One of its leaves fell in her path, the tip of the drying mass rising above her knee. She skirted it, keeping her footsteps silent.

Curls of dust danced, trailing their way from her door, through the mess of tents, and out to the barrens, happily leaving a gritty film on anything in their way.

She moved toward the woven basket that served as a portable reservoir for the clan. First, she would see to the water, the tent's supply and that needed to make the morning tea. She hooked the little scoop within between her fingers. After she had filled the skin, she lifted it to her lips and drank deeply.

Soft noises began to filter through the air. Other clan members were waking now. Soon morning fires would blaze within the tents. But she had only been outside for a few moments, Grandmother wouldn't be impressed should she return so soon. She scanned the camp, and her attention landed on the herd. Trepidation stole the moisture from her mouth. Any relief she had just achieved with her drink now gone. Since the tragedy several days before, she found herself balking at tending the mice, avoiding it. The clan taught that fear should never control one's actions. They valued bravery, honor, and obedience, not cowardice.

She fingered the dagger. She was no coward...at least she didn't want to be. Resolutely, she worked her way to the enclosure.

Her heart skipped as she approached. It is a different camp, a new day, but it was as though her mind relayed the events of the demon attack.Every shadow hung dark and threatening. She took a deep breath and gathered her courage.

The mice milled calmly, scratching at the earth and she focused on that and slowing her racing heart. Only one mouse was lost during the demon attack, an older animal belonging to the head elder, Toldon.

Thankfully, Grandmother's lead mice, Fey and Haim, both survived. Not that she wasn't grateful for the other mice. It was just that those two she had trained herself from mouslings, they were hard working animals and valuable breeders. She forced her mind to the day, three years ago grandmother had given her the newborn pups to raise. It distracted her from her fear and she climbed over the enclosure rail. Haim came to her eagerly, recognizing her scent, nosing within her robe for the treats she often brought him. She murmured whispers to him as he greeted her, stroking his soft ears. Fey soon joined them, Aya treated the doe with the same favors. Then she led them to one of the bone water basins and filled it with water for their twitching noses. As he drank she checked Haim's side; the wound was clean, and closed neatly, with no seeping. If they were careful, and did not place a saddle on him, he should be fit for travel.

The raising of a voice, a familiar, grating voice, carried from the tents.

Aya tried not to cringe. The corner of her mouth twitched down. A strange affliction she seemed to be developing around Hassra. If the great God has mercy, the woman will go back to her tent. Aya didn't want to deal with her.

She peered up over Haim's back, wondering vaguely if an interaction could be avoided.

Nope. Not a chance. In fact, Hassra's eyes locked on to her, as though she had been searching for her, specifically. And she seemed to be in a foul mood, too.

Aya wrestled with rising frustration. It had been nearly a year of such tension, and she missed the days when she went about her business without the woman harassing her.

Weary from her night of broken sleep, Aya fought the urge to escape. She rested her forehead against Haim. Since when am I so easily intimidated?