Lion Head Mesa Home

A band of women traveled towards the mesa. Of the three, Nazli the youngest and yet the most feeble. To her right was a hale four-year-old with a warrior's build, and while the group paused often for Nazli to rest, it was this rugged woman who was there to be support. Further back was an elderly wolf with a warm, ruddy pelt and obvious graying to her face; she looked somehow shrewd and kind, conflicting, but clearly some sort of matriarch. Each carried bundles: herbs, medicines, or food for the journey.

As they crossed beneath the apex of a red stone arch, Nazli made them stop a final time. She knew to go further would be rude, or that the mazoi might find fault in the trio. The elder woman looked nonplussed and began to build camp.

The warrior alongside Nazli quietly urged her with whispers and a concerned expression to keep going, to which Nazli could be seen shaking her head and even arguing insistently with them.

Come off it! We do as the girl instructs. These are not our lands or our people. The elder healer interjects, snapping crooked teeth at the warrior's haunch. A glower is the only response, but things quiet as they each get to work assembling a quick resting place.

Whether they are found out here, or advance to Akashingo proper in the morning, was up to fate.