Qeya River I know the pieces fit

both men had called.

both men answered.

ksura spoke of death and the unknown raider (raider no longer, winner in his place) promised it. she wished he had just left. she wished ksura had take the chance to flee instead of finding those who remained. he could have been free, he could have found his children or the women that were displaced from a home they had made.

she did not think that the other woman should have died. that had not been her wish in the slightest. yet the iron taste in her mouth becomes something darkly humored. usurper — the cry had not left her mind, it bashed around her skull like the throbbing headache. yet here was the true usurper, reigning supreme and having delivered her end.

it was all bitter and vile in her throat.

her condition was obvious, the way she could not lean upon that hind leg. if she retreated now she imagined the man very well could kill her. if they somehow made it free, she would only weigh down ksura. why must she decided?

let him go if he wishes, the power was not balanced in her favor. if the man did mean death, it could be delivered again for this act of rebellion against his fresh leadership. she had to hope there was some smartness in this brute. what would be to claim if he killed everyone left? i will stay. she could not look to ksura now. she could not try to search his features for understanding of what she meant to do in this bartering.

she could look at no one but the hulking man. anxiety that made vision tunnel into a pinprick that ended in one glacial eye. it may as well have been just the two of them in that moment. her exhausted, pained mind could not handle the thought of anyone else. possible continued violence was welcomed in place of witnessing disappointment.