Qeya River thorn blood

consider this an exit

traitor to who! usurper to what! how could she have no say in any of it when this was meant to be her home too? the woman treated her as if she was worse than the lone raider.

senka did not fight back.

where was ksura? where was the man?

she was being herded by violence, treated as less than for defending this place. for doing what she had promised to do. why? why?

she did not fight back and each puncture against her skin was a stone against her heart. the woman was quick and small, warrior or no. she was looking for men, she was looking for ksura.

something in a hind leg was giving beneath teeth. something deep and searing in a way her adrenaline would not let her feel fully yet. perhaps the man had placed it there and now the woman accelerated it. maybe the woman had put it there all herself.

it was clear she was wished as dead as the man.

she did not understand it. she did not strike retaliation. in this way she thought she might show her intent, that she had no ill will. even when one who was supposed to be trusted turned against those who remained.

the leg was faltering. she felt no better than an old doe, limping in her run now. weakening with each blow. she meant now to follow the river down into the stream beyond their claim. she could not go far, she refused, but she knew she must be out of reach of this woman’s teeth.

she should have defended herself, but that would not be defending the river.

again, where was ksura? where was the man? lost in her bloodied view as if they had never been there at all.

she wondered if she’d ever know.