Nytahl trudged along in the rain, avoiding slipping over in the mud or getting her clothes even more dirty than they already were.
Up ahead Shalius stopped and looked out toward the Far East. Nytahl stopped beside him and followed his gaze.
"We're getting close." He said softly. Nytahl nodded and slowly started to move forward again. As she walked along she blocked out the sounds of the others, letting her mind wonder and think about her home, and what her people were doing and how they were coping without her there to guide them in the right direction.
She realised then how much she truly missed her home. The sounds of children’s laughter and the scents of freshly baked bread, she missed it all with a passion she only barely contained.
She sighed and pushed the thought away and focused on where she was going.
As she walked along, a feint smell wafted past. She frowned and tilted her head sideways. She knew that smell.
“Death.” She whispered. Shalius stopped and looked at her strangely.
“Death?” He asked her. She nodded and started to walk off the path, following the stench.
“I can smell death.” She said softly. Nytahl walked forward slowly, keeping her senses open.
She stopped suddenly when she came to a clearing. Her hands started to shake as
she looked around. Upon every square inch of the clearing were freshly dug graves, the mounds of dirt looked muddied and covered with footprints.
She slowly walked forward and eyed the graves. She could tell that they were human but the powerful and putrid stench that poisoned the air. Nytahl stopped beside a grave that had a small golden bracelet buried into the soil.
She picked it up and memories flooded her mind.
Ten months ago…
“Clara! Slow down!” Nytahl shouted from behind the sprinting girl.
Clara stopped and turned to face Nytahl with an annoyed pout. “Why must I?” She asked snootily.
Nytahl sighed and finally caught up to young girl. She kneelt in front of her and looked her in the eyes intently.
“There are things in this forest that lurk in shallow shadows and behind the branches of the trees, things that could kill you without breaking a sweat.” Nytahl told her honestly. Clara’s bottom lip wobbled as tears shone in her clear green eyes.
“Why would they want to eat me? I could be their friend.” She said. Nytahl
smiled and shook her head.
“Monsters are not things to be-friend Clara. They are unpredictable and extremely dangerous. They are like the God’s things that we are to be wary of and stay away from.” Nytahl told her seriously.
Clara shook her head.
“But what if I want to be their friend? Or what if they want to be mine?” Nytahl sighed again.
“Clara I just said, that they’re not things to be friends with.” She told her firmly.
“Then if we cannot be friends with them, what do we do?” She asked Nytahl.
Nytahl grinned. “We hunt them.” She said. Clara’s eyes widened.
“But that is killing something innocent!” She protested. Nytahl clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“It is the cycle of life, we hunt them or they hunt us. It’s either kill or be killed.” Clara looked down at her feet in defeat.
“Then I guess I choose kill.” Clara muttered. Nytahl grinned.
“Good choice.” She said as she pulled out her bow and placed in an arrow.
Nytahl closed her hand around the bracelet and closed her eyes as tears fell down her cheeks.
“Clara.” She whispered her voice raw with fresh sorrow. She opened her eyes and
looked down at the grave. She then looked to one next to it and saw another object she knew. Nytahl walked from grave to grave, identifying objects that lay on the ground next to the graves.
She stopped at the last one and could feel the powerful rage that slammed into her.
These were her people, the people that she had worked so hard to care for and teach. Ones she had grown to love and respect, but now they were gone, all buried in unmarked graves, to be forgotten about and never spoken of again.
Treated like mere stains that needed to be cleaned off of the face of this earth.
She clenched her hands into fists and bowed her hand back and screamed her rage at the sky, letting the God’s know that they were responsible. Nytahl wanted revenge; she wanted to spill the blood of those that spilt the blood of her people.
Power sang through her, cocooning her and fuelling her anger even more. As her rage grew with each heartbeat, the thunder from Kalton’s god exploded in the sky.
She smiled a cold and vicious smile.
She knew how to get her revenge, and she knew that no one could do a thing to stop her.