The Prophecy

By Victoria Larque

When the three gather again and the heavens darken, the jagged edge shall tear and bleed death upon the world.

Emotion equals death. This is the truth Nijsha grows up with. Imprisoned behind the jagged edge, her body and mind have been honed into a deadly weapon. Secretly, she learns about th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Butterdragons Publishing
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9789493287334

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A picture containing night sky Description automatically generated

Title: The Prophecy (The Twins of Blood and Sand Trilogy Book One)

Series: The Twins of Blood and Sand Trilogy

Author: Victoria Larque

Copyright © 2023 Butterdragons® Publishing

All Rights Reserved

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This includes, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise.

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Published by Butterdragons® Publishing

https://butterdragons.com

ISBN: 9789493287334 (ebook)

ISBN: 9789493287341 (paperback)

ISBN: 9789493287358 (audio book)

Cover Design by: Dazed Designs

Audio book narrated by MJ Webb and Joshua Schubart

For my grandmother.

You always believed, now here we are.

I miss you.

Feelings bring death

In harsh planes of endless sand

Truth is hidden

Her life is a lie

Truth is dangerous

It comes with a price

Her life is not her own

It belongs to a deadly foe

Escape to survive

Forget all she learned

Survive the strange new world

Save the one she left behind

It was prophesied long ago

She must succeed or all is lost

No matter how hard the challenge

Her determination carries her on

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by Helle Gade

Map Description automatically generated

Prologue

The desert lay silent. Two half-moons coated dunes and black, sharp-edged stones in ethereal, pale light, painting long shadows into soft sand. A blanket of frost lay over the sand and glittered in the moonlight. No sound, no movement. Silence. This desert seemed dead, a place long forsaken by life. Only myths and legends reigned here. Stories of things so gruesome and merciless, they were told only in hushed voices, by people far away, in safety. It was a dark and evil place, abandoned by the gods, always dangerous, always silent. Its beauty was undeniable though, the sand like water, smooth and cool. Shifting like an ocean of glistening diamonds. The fissured edges of the black stones broke through the sand like grotesque skeletons of huge beasts, which had ended here, like everything else. Black as coal and hard as steel. As beautiful and entrancing this place might be, there was always something disquieting, something akin to malice, even. Subtle, yet there. The feeling of an otherworldly presence, menacing, evil, cruel. It was everywhere, and it had been for as long as most could remember, trapped forever in this hopeless wasteland.

A heartbeat drummed at the silence, hard breathing tore at it, then a black figure approached, running, splitting the silence for good. Black cloth whipped in the wind, hugging the lean figure, whose breath froze white in the cold air. Slender feet plunged into the frosty sand. Fast as the wind, the figure ran.

Two black swords with crossed blades and a long black bow with quiver were strapped to their back. All was fastened tightly so it did not swing too much and made no sound.

A lone strand of raven-black hair had escaped the confines of the hood, and danced in the wind, softly bouncing on the figure’s shoulder.

The near-soundless sprint was neither fast, nor quiet enough. A line of identically dressed figures was closing in steadily. Still too far to land a hit with bow and arrow, but it was only a matter of minutes now.

But the mountains were near, the uncrossable border almost within reach. They would not follow, they never left the desert. He would not allow it. The Jagged Edge, it was called by the people hunting the figure, the end to all that was known to them. They would not follow. The mountains meant safety and quickly grew larger against the horizon. They were huge and the figure came to a sudden halt, craning their neck to look at them, having only ever seen their blue peaks from afar.

The sound of an arrow hitting the sand not far from the figure made them jump and start running again, all wonder for the mountains gone from their mind. More arrows followed as the pursuers gained ground, hitting the sand around the figure in an all too familiar song. Dashing left, right and ahead, the figure evaded them as if knowing where they would hit. But the rain of arrows grew thicker and avoiding them became harder.

Finally, the figure reached the mountains’ feet and began climbing swiftly, jumping from rock to rock. The steady arrow rain did not stop, only the followers did. No foot, other than those of the pursued, touched the mountain. Like an invisible wall, for them, the border was impenetrable.

The figure did not look back. But kept on climbing, just as their followers kept on shooting. And then, a hit, an arrow pierced the thigh of the figure, not hampering them in the slightest.

With huge lunges, the figure climbed further. Seeking shelter somewhere, anywhere. There, to the left, a cliff marked the entrance to a small cave. With another huge, desperate lunge the figure landed upon it, the wounded leg gave way this time and they slid into the cave, their body falling hard on the stone, knocking their head back as well. Darkness greeted the figure, welcoming them into unconsciousness.

At the foot of the mountain, the pursuers stood still, waiting. Their bodies and features covered by black cloth. Each one had a bow in his left hand, holding an arrow to it with the right. After hours had gone by and with still no sign of their prey, they turned around like one person, fell in a line and disappeared  the way they came, swiftly and without uttering a single word to each other.

Chapter One

The Jagged Edge

Nijsha

Nijsha’s lids opened and she blinked rapidly to bring the world into focus. Dazed, she looked around, surveying the cave she had landed in. It was tiny, her body barely fit into it. The walls were of the same black stone she knew from the desert and the cave smelled burnt. Slowly, she pushed herself up, until her head nearly hit the ceiling and she could see her wounded leg. The arrow had gone right through, reappearing on the other side of her thigh. Without flinching and without a sound, she broke the shaft and pulled the arrow from her flesh in a smooth movement.

She inspected the wounds, then took a small pouch from the bag at her side, from which she shook a bit of powder into her palm. She sprinkled it onto the holes in her thigh and rubbed the powder into the wounds. The bleeding stopped immediately. She tore a long piece of cloth from her cloak and bandaged her leg with it in swift, practiced movements.

After making sure the pouch of powder was secured in the bag again, Nijsha turned around and crawled toward the entrance of the cave. Her violet eyes narrowed as she glanced down, looking for signs of her pursuers. Seeing as they had gone, her full lips parted in a snarl, revealing her pointed and elongated incisors and canines for a second.

She swallowed hard, reminding herself of what she had to do, and climbed from the cave to continue her journey up the mountain that had saved her. Falling into a series of repeating movements, she resumed her climb.

*******

With every grab, pull, steady, and jump, the darkness of night faded, giving way to the morning sun. Hours passed, until the sun stood high in the sky, but still Nijsha climbed. Her hands got blisters from the hot black stones. They burst as the day wore on and made her palms slippery with blood. Yet she did not let up, or vary her pace, but kept on moving at a steady rhythm. On and on, until it became dark again. Only then did she slow down as her leg shook uncontrollably. She needed to sleep.

Reaching a large flat set of stones, she decided it was an acceptable resting place. Nijsha could see deep into the desert and the space was open enough so no one could come close without her noticing. Not that anyone would, but she could not afford to relax.

She sat down, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let her feet dangle off the edge of the cliff. Then she took her weapons from her back, undid her coat, and lay everything down next to her.

Under her black coat, she wore brown leather pants and a brown leather top, which was fastened in the nape of her neck. All fit to her toned body like a second skin, giving her room to move. The leather was as brown as the sand of the desert, only slightly lighter than her own skin. Perfect for blending in and hiding on a hunt.

A silver necklace with an intricate pendant hung from her neck. The pendant was made of silver lines and shapes, which enclosed a blue, shimmering stone. A soft bluish glow emanated from it. Pulsing like a heartbeat.

Nijsha took the small bag and emptied its contents on her coat. Three little pouches of different healing powder, a small pack of dried meat, an empty water bag and a jar of weapon grease fell onto it. She took a piece of dried meat, stuck it in the corner of her mouth and began chewing. With her now free hands, she examined her wounded leg. The wound edges looked good and the bleeding had stopped, so she left it open. Her bloodied hands were dried off quickly with the strip of cloth. Done with looking after her body, she started cleaning and greasing her weapons.

Always keep your weapons clean and functional, only then are they efficient. Your most important weapon is your body, tend to it, sharpen it, steel it, and keep it healthy, it keeps you alive.

The words of her trainer, her ashkahn, rang in her ears. Having heard the same phrases all her life, they had become part of her.

Once done with her weapons, she lay back on the stone still chewing on the meat, staring at the sky.

At rest for the first time in days, thoughts and emotions caught up to her, invading her mind like unwelcome guests. Running had kept the worse of it at bay, but now there was no hiding from any of it. Now, they howled through her with increasing strength. Building and festering. Pain, sadness and guilt. Sharp, heavy and bitter. The intensity was something new, as was the guilt.

Pain she knew, sadness she could control, but guilt was new. Not used to the feeling, she turned it over, surveying it, exploring it. The more she prodded, the more unbearable the guilt grew, until the pain that came along with it had her tasting tears at the back of her throat.

What have I done...what is this? she whispered to herself.

She sat up, swept her eyes with her hands and looked at her wet fingers. Shocked, she glimpsed around. Then realized that no one was there to see her tears. Nevertheless, she wiped them off her face with measured movements, not allowing them. But soon enough, the guilt and pain intertwined with longing, leaving her breathless and on the verge of tears.

Nijsha swallowed repeatedly, fighting the crushing waves of grief and guilt, the heaviness of which was new to her. Her mother...gone. And her brother, captured because he helped Nijsha escape.

Nijsha closed one fist around the pendant, evening her breathing for a moment. The only thing she had left of her mother. Sacred and hidden. It was a good thing she had thought to take it with her. Somehow, the soft thrumming coming from it calmed her. Nijsha lay back again and closed her eyes, continuing to fight what she felt for a long time. After what seemed like hours, she finally fell asleep.

*******

She stood in their clearing, the only place they had where they could be themselves.

Where their mother had taught them everything she and her brother knew, casting a spell that moved this place between the worlds. It was a clearing that faded out at the edges. Drenched in moonlight, a silver place. This was home. No one except the three of them knew it existed, let alone how to get there. Dreaming.

Ashak? Are you there? No answer. But Nijsha did not expect one, he was far away and probably unreachable to her. Not to mention, it could very well be that he was not asleep right now.

Suddenly, he walked out from a faded edge. I am here, sister.

Relief flooded her as she stepped closer to him. What have they done to you?

He swiftly stroked her cheek, barely touching her, and his grim face turned a bit softer. Nothing which they have not already done before. I shall endure. How far are you? Have you reached the mountains yet?

She nodded. They hit my leg before I was high enough up the mountain. It shall heal as I sleep, it always does. I will find the Danaii, Ashak. I will come for you.

He shook his head. No. We both know my life is forfeit. What you need to do is find them and tell of His misdeeds. That is more important than anything.

Anger at his words squirmed in Nijsha’s gut. How dare you place so little value in your life? You are my heart and mind. I will come for you.

Ashak only nodded once, his face void of any emotion. I know, and were it the other way around, I would feel the same as you do. But you have to promise me one thing: Find the Danaii. Nothing is more important than that.

Nijsha halted any and all frustration and fear from showing on her face. I promise to find them and then come for you. They will help.

Her brother just looked at her, conveying through his eyes what they both knew to be true. It was unlikely he would still be alive at that point.

Nijsha refused to take it as fact, I will kill them all, she whispered darkly.

Ashak did not answer. Where exactly are you now? he asked, indicating he was done with the former topic.

I am halfway up the mountains. Another day and I will be at the peak.

Her brother inclined his head once. Then this may be the last time we see each other here. When you have crossed the mountains, you may be too far away for us to connect here. There is no way of telling how the magic will reach and connect us.

I know. This may be the last time. It was quiet for a while, the silence wearing on her.

You should not have stayed behind; you should have let me fight at your side.

They had fled together after the death of their mother, but after three days, they had been nearly caught. Ashak had stayed to hold them off. She was still furious about that.

They would have taken us both, now, at least you are safe.

We should both be safe. All three of us should have left the desert together. She turned and walked through the clearing.

It was impossible and you know it. What is done is done. There is nothing we can change about it now. I wish it was different as much as you do. But it is not. We will just have to make the best with what we have now.

I could not save her, she blurted.

Ashak strode to her side and turned her toward him. Stop whimpering, that will not get you anywhere. It was not your fault, this guilt of yours does not make sense, surely, you know that.

It does make sense and it is my fault she is dead.

She died to save us and so you could leave. He shook his head. Just be careful, I am not with you to protect you.

I do not need you to. You know I can take care of myself. 

I do. He reached for her shoulder as if to squeeze it but let his hand fall down before touching her.

Let us talk of something different, Nijsha suggested. They sat on the ground and softly, she stretched out her mind and brushed it against his.

They had learned early on, how to do this. She could touch his mind, read his thoughts as he could hers. In a world where touch was forbidden and deadly, they had found another way to be close.

But it was so much more than that. They had never told their mother of it. In all her teachings, she had never mentioned a bond like this, but to the two of them, it felt natural. Nijsha doubted her mother would have reacted positively if they had told her, if she would have even believed them.

Nijsha knew her brother’s mind as well as her own. She stroked the spikes of sadness he felt, smoothing them, as he did for her. They sat together for the longest time, comforting each other without words.

She looked his way, studying his handsome profile. He had long black hair, like she did, the same skin tone and the same set of violet eyes. His face was breathtakingly beautiful, like all of their people were, defined and graceful, but with a small edge. His body was that of a warrior, like hers, strong, unyielding, and toned. He was her male counterpart, as they were twins, it was not surprising.

What are they doing now? Nijsha asked.

Preparing the rite. Adum is coming.

She shot to her feet and began walking around. Why? What do they want from him? It is the year of his rest. The only reason I was able to reach the mountains. He will be out for blood if they raise him too soon. You... He will hurt you. She paced back and forth.

Once she came past him again, his hand shot out and pulled her to his side once more. He pushed against her fear, infused her with the confidence he felt. She calmed quickly, although he could not completely take her fear away. 

They do not know how to act, so in their desperation, they have decided to call on him. His thoughts turned bitter. Do not worry, they cannot get to you, you are safe, that is all that counts.

Nijsha met his eyes, so similar to her own.. It is not me I am worried about. I cannot lose you.

The corners of Ashak’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, as if he tried to smile, but did not quite remember how, which was only natural given that his last smile was almost a decade ago. She knew, she had seen it.

My life is not important and you cannot let worry for me cloud your mission, our mother’s mission. Get it done. What happens until then, happens. It is out of our hands. He looked at the necklace. You will need that, do not lose it. It is the only thing by which the Danaii will recognize you. With that sentence, Ashak slowly drifted away, his body was waking, or being woken.

Nijsha knew what her brother had said to be true, still... Loneliness and fear for him laced through her as she watched his stoic face dissolve into nothingness.

*******

Waking from the dream, Nijsha sat up and looked around to make sure she was alone. She glanced over the wounds on her hands and leg, determined they had sealed themselves and only small scars still told of their existence. Within another night, they too would be gone.

After gathering her belongings, she stood and stared over the land she knew so well. She opened the long braid hanging down her back, combed her hair out with her fingers and rebraided it, trying hard not to think of what her brother had said. She kept the feeling of being in his presence close, holding onto it with all her might.

Done with her hair, she stood and started to climb again.

Chapter Two

Adum

Ashak

A kick to Ashak’s bound legs woke him, followed by the voice of his guard.. Awake, the rite begins.

He was in a very uncomfortable position, his hands bound over his head to an iron ring, stretching his body off the stone floor. His legs and backside hung inches above the ground, but he could not shift his legs under his body, to take the strain off his arms, because his ankles were fastened to a wooden peg which had been driven into the ground next to his feet. The fact he had been able to fall asleep like this spoke of the years of training to blend out pain. Even now, he looked around unfazed, to capture the scene before him.

He was in the gathering place, a circle of stone surrounding him. In the middle, a fire burned, around which everyone was standing, looking at him. He had known all of them his whole life, they were his people, his family. And he hated every single one of them, not that they could hate him in return however, they in fact did not hate, or love, or feel anything. They were Adar, cold and beautiful, lethal and gruesome, every single one of them, even the children, were killers. Born and bred to be such.

Their god had made them to be as they were, unable to feel any kind of emotion, with a high tolerance for physical pain, which they trained all their life, and great strength, speed, and the instinct to kill everything different from them. Everything carrying feelings, or sylvan, as they called them. They were the perfect warriors. The prime and only creation of their God. Soulless.

This had been a mistake at first, as it was the reason none of them had any emotions, but in retrospect, it played into their creators’ hands, who was going to be called through the rite. Nijsha was right about Him. Had it not been the year of His rest, they never would have had a chance of escape.

Ashak sighed, he was not confident about his own future, but at least he knew now that Nijsha had reached the mountains. She was safe. That thought would give him strength to endure everything Adum would throw at him. Even death.

He should have made Nijsha promise not to come back at all. She deserved a life away from all of this. Free from the pain, the training, and the nightly teachings. But he knew she would. Even if he was killed, she would come back. Because he would do the same for her. No matter the cost or consequences. They had only ever had each other. He did mourn his mother, but the shock he had felt when she had told them she loved them right before she had been killed, told much of their relationship.

The Adar around him turned to face him, ripping Ashak from his musings. Indifference shone from their faces, their eyes as empty as the desert around them. It was time.

All of them had a dagger in their left hand, which was part of the ritual, still as statues they stood until a movement caught Ashak’s eye. Someone came through the rows of people and he knew exactly who it was. He was taller than all of them, except for Ashak maybe, had a broad chest, black braids, and violet eyes. He was beautiful, as they all were and just as hollow as the rest, but there was a cruel intelligence in his eyes, both horrifying and entrancing at the same time.

Even though he was huge and muscular, it was the air around him, the way he carried himself and the look in his dead eyes making the guts of every sylvan being churn who had the misfortune of setting eyes on him. He was their leader and Ashak and Nijsha’s father. Bawar.

Just before Ashak, he came to a halt. Looking him in the eyes he said, It would be right to kill you. But this decision is not mine to make.

With that, he stretched out his left palm, upon which someone laid a dagger. His fingers closed around the hilt and, without hesitation, he drew it across his other palm, cutting through his skin. On cue, everyone around them did the same.

Bawar gave Ashak’s guard a sign at which he was untied and hauled up on his feet. With the dagger, he slashed Ashak’s hand open, as well. As blood ran down everybody in the gathering place, dripping to the ground, Bawar held out his arms to either side of his body and spoke,

From your blood and this earth, we come, with our blood drenching this earth, we call you.

The ground rumbled, wind gushed into the gathering place, carrying fine desert sand with it, which sprinkled over Ashak, each grain like the prick of a needle.

He closed his eyes and felt wave after wave of sand wash over him, making his skin burn. Then, Ashak felt Him, riding the last wave, He materialized from sand into his preferred form. Adum, the last God to walk the earth.

Ashak opened his eyes again and they fell onto Adum, as all eyes did. He drew them in, captured them, focusing all attention on Him. He always did. He resembled the Adar, but his tall body shifted, as sand wove through him, making him see-through at times and solid at others. He towered above all of them, twice as tall as Bawar. His face was handsome, his long black hair tangling in a wind no one else felt. He was dressed in sand, his eyes black and bottomless as a pit. He was a God, their God, their master, their creator, and their law. He smiled a little gruesome smile as his gaze landed on Ashak, his stare boring into Ashak’s eyes, making them water.

With the hiss of the wind He spoke, So, you are our little traitor. A pity, I had high hopes for you. Excelling at every training, strong and uncompromising. You would have made the next chief of your people. But now, he sighed, Now, I have even better plans for you.

He laughed, which made the hair on Ashak’s back stand. You, my dear one, will lead us to the traitors that have infested our midst. You will lead us to your sweet sister and she will bring with her something I have wanted for a long time. Apart from that, we will see who has been pulling the strings behind your little farce. Who dares to try and stop me from taking what is rightfully mine.

Ashak straitened. I will not, he simply said.

Adum raised a hand and immediately a bodiless power forced Ashak onto his knees. Ashak strained to look up, to get up, but he could not fight the power of a God.

You do not have to consent to anything and luckily, I do not care either way, Adum said in an almost conversational tone of voice. Your sister will come for you. No matter where you are, she will find you. All we have to do is wait.

Chapter Three

The Other World

Nijsha

Her climb was swift and now that her leg had healed, even faster. She jumped from rock to rock in huge lunges, her feet and hands on the stone as sure and steady as if she had done this a thousand times. Around her, the mountains were still pitch black, with razor sharp edges, and as if they were formed from one gigantic stone, no grain of sand could be found in its cracks.

Nijsha had never had a day without sand, and she felt a longing for something familiar nudging in the back of her head. She drove the thought aside. Pretty soon nothing familiar would be around her. On the other side of this mountain range, lay a whole different world. Her mother had told her and Ashak stories of this other world, after a while it seemed as though she drifted away in her stories, almost as if she was talking to herself, trying to make herself believe that world still existed.

Their mother had been born in this other world, native to a different culture than her children. Sent to the other side of the mountains to gather information, to gain knowledge, which no one else in her world had. For her people, who coveted knowledge, above all.

Nijsha would find them and save her brother, that was her plan, her mission. She would not fail. No matter how bleak his outlook on his own life was, she would come back for him.

Suddenly, pain exploded in her side. She had been in mid-jump and slipped, but her reflexes saved her and she grabbed onto a ledge with one hand and used the momentum of her fall to swing back up. She let go of the ledge and twisted in the air. Her feet hit stone and she righted herself. Then she gripped her side, shoving back fabric and leather. There was nothing, her skin as soft and smooth as ever.

Then the pain hit the other side, then her head. She stood still and breathed. Years of extensive training to block out pain gave her the ability to just stand and receive it. Waves of agony rolled over her, but she stood still. This was not her pain, it was her brother’s. They were torturing him.

She felt every blow as if it was done to her body. Nijsha had almost forgotten that this was part of their connection. They had trained to accept pain all their lives, as all Adar did. Ashak and Nijsha had also trained to block the pain they each felt from one another. Because feeling the pain of the other had been worse. But this was different. It was more than Ashak could resist, more than he could ignore, so she felt it as well. This was no simple torture, this was Adum playing with him. There was nothing else which could cause it to this degree.

Panting, she concentrated and as much as she detested it, blocked out every thought about her brother, dove into the pain until she could channel it, turn it around and use it.

She shot up, much faster and much higher than before and soon, she was only a blur, moving up the mountains at breath-taking speed. Pain was a catalyst and one could use it in different ways.

With this speed, she ate up the remaining distance between her and the peak. The higher she came, the harder it was to breathe. After hours, the pain ebbed away, shrinking to a continuous pounding. Small and bearable.

Nijsha slowed down, her chest heaving and her heart racing. Sweat ran down her body and she trembled from exhaustion. She refused to think about the state her brother had to be in now, her tolerance for pain had always been higher than his. Nijsha clung to the thought that if she could feel his pain, he was still alive. She had to. Losing him...no. She would find help, she would right her mistakes.

Nijsha pressed her forehead to the black stone and waited until her breath was normal again. She placed both her palms next to her head and pushed herself up with – by now – blood-slicked palms. With little to no grip, climbing became hard. When she slipped a second time she berated herself to be more careful.

But the pain had given her a huge boost and she reached the peak much faster than she had anticipated. As she gripped onto the highest rock, she peaked over and ducked right back behind it. This was different. Very. Different. She swallowed. Breathed. She tried again and stared.

The world was green. The world was blue. It was bright and dark, shadow and light. The world had colors she had only ever heard of. It was alive and crawling under her. She smelled odors she could not put a name to. Noise reached her ears. It was as if she had just woken from a dream. It was full. Unnaturally so. Chaotic.

Slowly, Nijsha pulled herself up, slowly, she climbed over the last rock. Staring. Wide-eyed, she took her first steps into this alien world, placing one foot in front of the other.

Although the mountain was high and the ground far away, she saw everything. Heard everything, smelled everything. It was nearly too much. Almost unbearable. Almost. Entranced, she looked around. A strange sound came from her right and she sniffed. Water.

She walked in the direction, unable to keep herself from investigating. Behind a rock, a crack in the stone spilled water, a lot of water. She sank behind the rock, sat down, and looked at the masses of water gushing forth in front of her. It twirled and gargled down, eating its way through the rocks. Nijsha reached out her hand and touched it, quickly pulling it back as the feeling was surprisingly peculiar. Like running her hands through the softest leather, but still different. Cautiously, she reached out again, letting the water run over her hand, cool, smooth, and clear. It stung where the blood washed away, revealing cuts and opened blisters. Once clean, Nijsha leaned in and drank from her palm. The water ran down her parched throat, delicious.

She drank her fill hand by hand and then took the water skin from her bag to fill it, too. Where she came from, water was scarce and, that which they had, was muddy and brown. She felt she could watch this clear, spilling water forever.

After a while, Nijsha stood and followed the water downward. As she descended, the air became thicker, and breathing got easier. Along the water, plants sprouted. She touched them, amazed at how alive they felt. More stones bled more water and soon a river, twice her size, accompanied her on her way. The water seemed to lead a life of its own, roaring, thundering down. She had never seen so much of it, so much life all around her, it was amazing, lavish, and terrifying, all at once.

At nightfall, Nijsha was almost halfway down. She sat on a flat stone, watching the sun set. The colors of the sky ranged from deep red to orange and faded out to light purple and then blue. A few clouds were lined with gold and threw off rays of light against the sky. She had never seen clouds and the sight struck her as beautiful.

Suddenly, her throat seemed to narrow, something seemed stuck in it. Pausing, she wondered what it might be. She swallowed a few times and after a while it faded. Strange. Next to her, the water formed a small pool before descending in a free fall, dropping onto a cliff, spraying water everywhere.

Nijsha shrugged from her coat, which she laid down next to her, then she looked at the pool and wondered what it would feel like to... But no, a silly thought. She knelt at the end of the pool, undid her clothes and washed herself. Done with that, she sat naked on her coat and let the cool evening wind dry her skin.

Nijsha looked over her supplies. Her dried meat was almost empty and she would have to hunt soon; other than that, everything was in order. Eating the rest of the meat, she lay back, watched the stars, and heard, smelled, and tasted her new surroundings.

The stories her mother had told, had not, in the least, prepared her for this. It was so different from what she had imagined and thinking about it brought back the tightness in her throat. Again, it left her wondering what the feeling was as she could not place it. It made her wary and took a long time until she blocked all thoughts from her mind to sink into a dreamless sleep.

*******

With a start, she woke. There were eyes upon her, she felt them. Nijsha sniffed the air, listened. Slowly she sat up, her eyes darting around. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and strained it on her bow. A soft crack sounded behind her. In one smooth movement, she whirled around and shot. A body fell to the ground. With a few paces she was at its side. It was an animal, with brown fur, as big as both her spread hands. It had soft, leathery paws and was kind of round. Nijsha smelled it, picked up a bit of its blood with her finger to taste it. This creature was edible.

Unsheathing her hunting knife, she turned the creature on its back and started skinning it. She did so carefully, but quick, paying attention not to harm either the fur, nor the muscle tissue. A habit acquired through the years. Done with the skinning, she gutted the creature, placing everything edible on one heap and the rest on another one. It was frustrating, that she could not put all of her kill to good use, but there was no time for it. She would only take the meat.

Nijsha cut the meat into strips and with her knife made small holes in each one. Done, she strung the meat up on a thread from her coat.

When she was finished, she went to the pool and washed her hands and knife. Then she put on her clothes and packed her things. She attached the string of meat to her bow, so the meat would dry as she walked. If she was attacked, she could still use her blades. She had trained with both as soon as she had been able to hold the weapons upright, but she had always been better with the blades.

The further she went down, the denser the life became. Soon, the plants turned into bushes, the bushes grew until they were trees, and the river she followed became twice its size. She touched the stem of a huge tree, running her fingers over the rough bark, marveling at its texture.  All this life was so unfamiliar.

Nijsha walked slowly now, moving carefully and silently. She could not see far and that was a problem. She was used to be able to see