Rosewater Oasis the rattler

a scent. one familiar to racharra. at first there was a haste in her steps. could it be? another had survived?
but as she came closer — protected by the foliage and casted shadows, the smell was not of akashingo or muatriya. it was a stench of iron. of blood.
had they followed her trail? what more could they want?

through the greenery she stole glimpses of the trespasser. he was smaller, and he was alone.

she could kill him. tusks bare themselves. she could kill him right here, right now. let carrion feast on his rotten meat, or offer him to the gods. if the red palace been slaughtered for failing to eliminate their enemies, then the blood of this fool would amend that failure.

but the curl of her lips, readied to strike, soften as she thinks for a moment. no. killing him would only alert them of his absence. he could be swallowed by the desert, or the rest could find the sanctuary. it would be playing games with the lives of vahanet. her people.

racharra stood still, waiting carefully before she hid away. his call for war was answered with the white flag of retreat.

oh poop i just noticed the read only UHHHH CAMEO ASSUME SHES FAR AWAY