The sun dipped below the mountains as the warrior emerged, casting long shadows across the sand. Rarely did she stray far from the cool waters of the Oasis, Tumbleweed in the back of her mind always while she patrolled the borders. Though it was as much her duty to him keeping her here as it was the sanctuary that water brought, for she was not accustomed well enough to the desert to journey far from its life-giving embrace.
Cocking her leg, she left her mark before following the trail of a cottontail into the brush. The normalcy of the hunt set her mind at ease to wonder - she thought of the spider, of the sand man's vulture who circled like a flag of death in the sky. And she thought of the gemstones that these wolves were drawn to. Like beggars to a coin, it was intriguing, if not amusing, to consider what value a shiny rock could have to someone. Though it did not interest her personally as such, the sand-man was greedy for them, and for him she would hunt them as she did any rabbit.
The wind carried whispers throughout the oasis; ones of which the Widower had not so easily missed.
A new arrival. One that did not wish to pass through, nor had they paid a wealthy price for their stay. But that would come with hearty work, and the shadow intended to ensure they were worked until they could no longer stand. The oasis was not home to just anyone, but only the most deserving.
From afar, Widower creeps, no acknowledgement made of the approach. She simply strides from behind, eyes full of scorn for this individual that she knew nothing of. You mark this land as though you belong here. Do you?
She ponders aloud, gaze steady and inquisitive.
A rustle in the brush brought her to a pause; she was being followed. Hackles raised instinctively, she turns to see a woman not unlike the spider approaching brazenly. What they shared in appearance was not shared in temperament, it seemed. Sweet Arachne, this coyote's presence commanded attention, but the warrior would not give it to her yet.
"For time, yes" she spoke bluntly, continuing her hunt. If the woman would follow or not, Xiao couldn't care less. She must've been one of Tumbleweed's underlings - while the warrior was loyal to him, she had no thread of connection to the others.
An answer, then an intent of departure. But the Widower wasn't finished yet.
Teeth clicking together like symbols, the shadow caught up to the woman and wove around her front, blocking her path. I did not say you could leave yet.
She growled, tail swaying behind her.
Perhaps you have gotten yourself a pass from Tumbleweed, but you have not gotten one from me. Do not presume to assume that he and I are the same in the amount of trust we give.
For Widower gave so little, especially for someone so estranged as this.