Carry Me Back (Chijana)

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The massive stretch of desert that overwhelms Eyktol. Here, a man's water is worth more than his life, and the burying sands are the unfortunate's mute undertaker.

Carry Me Back (Chijana)

Postby Najawe on September 4th, 2011, 6:44 am

Season of Fall, Day 15, 511 AV

The sands stretched out beneath the blazing sun. Time dragged itself sluggishly along, heedless of the band of copper-skinned hunters that baked in those timeless rays. A crow soaring above the dunes would have spied a lone figure several paces ahead of its companions, a spear carried low at its side.

That figure was Najawe, of the Kalanue. Of all the assembled hunters, his shadow was the longest. A familiar voice, or the sensation of a voice, filled his mind and spurred him on. Lead! Lead the pack! He shook his head, the loose dark curtain of hair rising and falling. His feet slapped the ground harder, propelling him further, faster. Leaving the voice behind, he pretended. Matching the rhythm of his heart beat. Drowning out her words.

All thought he tried to erase. Tendrils of remembered shadow licked at his heels, reminded him how tired he was. Sweat cut trails through the dust on his face, the black paint smeared like charcoal across his eyes. He closed them, squinting against the pain of fatigue. Terrible visions flooded the darkness. He snapped them back open.

Behind, Chijana ran with the others. She would be watching, watching when he made the kill. Again, he closed his eyes. Again, snapped them back open. A kill would bring peace. It always did. But it also brought guilt.

A prickling in his fingertips brought his mind into focus. A quick scan, filtering the sand and scant rock. There, almost invisible against the grain. A golden wolf. Injured. Separated from its pack. It hesitated, standing on three legs. Najawe hesitated within, his two legs carried him forward.

Even injured, the wolf was fast. A short sprint brought Najawe over the lip of a dune, down the other side. He raised his spear. There was pain in the wolf's eyes, pain in the hunter's heart. He allowed himself to hesitate, just long enough. The wolf sprinted, was yards away as Najawe sank to his knees. The dreams would come, then. For his mercy, he would suffer. And if he had to suffer, he would embrace it. For a time.

Najawe rolled onto his side as the hunters crested the dune, held his leg in pain. The shadows lashed out at him as he squeezed his black eyes shut. Her voice, another stinging lash. He failed her. How could he do this. She knows that he pretends. She is furious.

"Carry me back."
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Najawe
Haunted dreams make for sleepless nights.
 
Posts: 4
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Joined roleplay: August 16th, 2011, 2:39 pm
Location: The Burning Lands
Race: Chaktawe
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