Flashback Loathing that Bleeds

[Nalahessarajor]

The 55th Day of Spring, 511 AV The earth felt good under Nala’s feet as she trod down the sparely decorated street. It was late, late enough that the sun now only showed half its face from its throne on the horizon, burning the clouds above in the orange-red glow. She should have been at home, as it was her duty to make sure the slaves were secure in their places before going to bed herself. She had, but she had done so early, and had no intention of going to bed. She was newly a woman, and this was the longest time she’d spent on two legs. They were wobbly and unstable, much different than the long, thick tail she was used to, but her mother had said that if she was to attend parties like her aunt and one day become the face of the Rajor family, she must do what was right and proper to maintain the family’s reputation. Though she agreed that she must do what was best for the family, she had heard what others had said about her family. Slaves talked, and an ear to the ground was all one needed to know any number of the goings on in town. Her family was despised, and as such it was her duty to forge a positive reputation for them, brick by brick… …or, in her case, step by step. She wasn’t quite so sure what was so good about walking. Though it did not hurt of feel unnatural to her, it did feel poorly balanced and less connected to the earth. However, this did not stop her this night. Beyond simply practicing to walk, Nala had a few other goals for the evening. She had dressed herself in silks and colors she did not usually wear, shrouding her face so those that looked upon her would have to approach her before recognizing her, and even then they wouldn't know she was Dhani unless she spoke. She doubted many in town knew who she was, as she only rarely interacted with the common rabble, and never on two legs. Secondly, her journey was inspired by the urge to explore. She had arrived in Kenash with her family, only a hatchling, and remembered very little of the time before her family had established their claim over the land they now owned. Nearly all her life had been spent on the plantation or on the plantations of other families when accompanying her aunt during business deals. Once or twice she had been into town in so many years, and even then it was only on Dry Island and the East Bank, under the watchful eye of her aunt. This is what brought her to the West Bank as the sun set behind the swamp trees on a balmy Spring evening.