Welcome to Gaia! ::

Breath of Winter
ORP
210 words

Red loved her homeland, she really did, but finding all those other people – city people, no less – drawn to it had been merely proof of its superiority among all the lands of Magesc. Its towering spires and blasting winds were unbeatable, and its beasts were grander than any creature of the desert or the tundra. Even those stupid brainless 'civilized' folks could see that.

And Red, obviously, was the greatest creature of all. She looked on her new vildean scratches with pride, delighted at how fierce the welts looked on her skin. They wouldn't scar, unfortunately, but someday she would be covered in scars and trophies and other such things to prove her greatness to the world, so that all would know it at a glance.

She did a few morning stretches, her joints cracking as she limbered herself up for the day ahead – a day full of exploring with her new friends. Civilized they may be, but she thought she could turn them – especially that Rainer. Maybe Shenra – she hoped Shenra. The girl was cute.

Either way, she was excited to try! She turned with a whoop and raced to where they waited, gleeful: adventure! Excitement! Exporation! What a day she would have!

Rebel
RP Hunt: Zamanavyi and Xenosa
128 Words

Red soon forgot about the pretty older Orderite wandering the ice wastes. It wasn't her business what a lady like that was doing there, and Red didn't care. Red was still hunting, still making her mark on the tundra, and damn was she having fun doing it.

After a day of dragon killing (one dragon), ice spire clawing (as fun as a scratching post), meat hunting (delicious) and an attempt at fishing with her magic through a breathing hole in the ice (unsuccessful), She finally turned towards the Wild tribe village and, for now, home, eager to show her friend just how awesome she was.

She was bringing so much meat home... Rangion would have to be impressed.

In all, not a bad way to end the day.

Set to a Task
Orb Turn-in, Leader RP
597 Words

After learning the Darvithri's name – Yirhho – Red had realized something: Beasts were not just beasts. She would not have liked them so much if they were. Over the next few days, her confidence in herself had metamorphosed into something else, something more solid than arrogance and belligerence. It had taken nearly dying to make her realize her limits, that she had them, that she could die if she wasn't careful. But living had taught her that she should not be too careful. If she hadn't trusted the Darvithri, if she hadn't fought him, she would be dead. Dead, and without what could be the best friend she had ever made. The Darv had been mere beasts to her before. They were vicious, she had been taught, beasts that walked on two legs. But, gleaming in the Darv's eyes, she had seen a person she could respect. Sure, one day one would kill the other, but until that day, she knew that she had a friend that would never leave her, never betray her, never lie to her. She'd been lucky in her friendships thus far – no major betrayals, no major enmities – but it was nice to know that she had this beast in the wild as her friend.

Something about it gave her the last thing she needed to put together a bag of dragon orbs, carry it to the Chief's hut, and walk bravely across the threshold. “Hey. You. Chief.” she said, thrusting the bag at him. It was full of shimmering green Ysali orbs – four of them – and one chilly orb of the Aiskalan tundra thrown in for good measure. “This is for you.”

Chief Lira looked up from stitching together some Arrical leather. “Oh?” she said snidely, taking the bag delicately and looking inside, “A gift! How nice.” she put it aside and continued stitching, a move that infuriated the young dovaa.

“They're dragon orbs.” said Red, as if it wasn't obvious, “I'm giving ya dragon orbs.”

“Yes, I see that.” said Lira, “And? Your point?”

“Well, see, they mean that I'm strong, right? Strong enough t' kill the dragons. And I did kill 'em. I'm strong enough, I'm old enough, and I'm ready, so... so...” Red crossed her arms nervously, “So yer gonna let me join the Wild tribe.”

The Chief looked up at last from her work, levelling a serious gaze at the girl before her. She was quiet for a moment. “All right, fine.” she said, “You want to join the Tribe, you'll get your chance. You want your tasks? You'll get them. But it ain't going to be a walk in the park, you understand? I won't give you something easy just because you were born and raised here. Are we clear, brat?”

Red glared at her. “I never asked for it t' be easy. And...” she bared her teeth, “I ain't no brat.”

“So long as we're clear on that.” said Chief Lira, “Fine. Come in tomorrow morning. Bring your mother and Rangion with you. They'll be your witnesses during your task. Hopefully, if they feel like it, they'll keep you from dying.”

“Why can't you just give me the tasks now, so I can do them already?!” grumbled Red, annoyed. She'd gone to a lot of trouble to get here, today.

“'Cause I won't have the tasks for you until then, icebrain.” the Orderite chieftain teased. She turned back to her leathercrafting, making a dismissive motion with her hand. “Now, off with you...” she smirked, “Brat.”

The Tasks of the Wild Tribe
Wild Tribe Joining Solo
5031 words

Red bit her lip so hard that she was surprised that it didn't start bleeding as she tried to glare straight ahead and ignore her annoyance. A generation of wild tribesmen had carved this labyrinth and several generations of plants, animals, and wild tribesmen had roughened it into something as wild as it was artificial. It was something meant for Ayran natives to run on, to skip from rough patch to rough patch without fear and to lose their pursuers in the twisting paths. But her gait was stiff as she walked over the once-smoothed ground, and her back was tense and bent with exasperation.

“You call that walking, Red?” She struggled to ignore the loud and obnoxiously mocking voice of the man who walked behind her, the pain in her lip growing exponentially, “You look like a gods-damned bird. Straighten up, pick up your feet, and walk.” Rangion Mellithirri was a hybrid she had known since she was a baby, and usually she considered him her oldest and dearest friend and would have trusted him with anything. Right now, though, he was being distinctly unhelpful and distracting. She wanted to punch him. “Also you're slow.” he added, “So very slow. I told you hours ago how slow you were, and now you're extra slow.” he made an audible, exaggerated yawn, “So boring. My old pureblood Orderite grandmother – who is well on her first century now and feeling every year of it – could make it through this maze faster than you... Ha!” he laughed, the sound echoing through the labyrinth. Red tried to ignore him as she strode forward, but his voice was grating. “She probably could have made it through before lunch!”

Red's stomach rumbled and she glared at Rangion. He didn't need to remind her that she hadn't eaten today, or that it was afternoon now, or that this was her eighth try on this task, or that she was so lost that she wasn't sure if she could get out without his help. She was supposed to navigate through the entire labyrinth without interruption or speech, and usually she would have no problem with it, having grown up running between its walls. She knew it – she should know it – like the backs of her hands. But with Rangion's incessant taunting and mocking, she had been forced to restart time and time again. Each time, he would blindfold and spin her and move her a short ways and it was exasperating, not to mention nauseating. She wanted number eight to be the last time. She bit down on her tongue, trying to still it from spitting a comment (and maybe saliva) at his face, even though several choice words burned in her mind.

“Actually, though, you're so dumb, Red...” Rangion said slyly, smirking, “I bet you couldn't find your way out of an ordinary, unsealed crate.”

“Shut up, Rangi.” she snarled, the angry words boiling out of her before she could stop them.

“Well, you just failed the task! Again!” he said merrily, “Time to restart!”

Red made an incoherent sound of rage and frustration. “Are you enjoying this?!” she snarled.

“Well it's not my fault.” he said, shrugging, “You just have to ignore me – that shouldn't be this hard... Ninth time, Red, this is the ninth time. Are you trying to fail your tasks or something? Are you doing this on purpose? Seriously, Red - shut up and keep walking. It's not that hard.”

“Screw the tasks.” she snarled, summoning forth her ice claws, “I'm gonna beat your a**!” she leapt at him, and he easily dodged, leaving her to scrabble at the labyrinth wall to keep from colliding face-first into it.

“That won't help you.” he said, tut-tutting, “Come on, Red, lets do this again. And remember – shut up and keep walking. That's how real warriors do it, you know.”

“I hate you.” she mumbled, as he put the blindfold over her eyes, “I hate you so much.”

~~~~~

“So, Zami. You're finally ready to join the tribe, eh?” The chieftain of the Ayran wild tribe looked her over and smirked. “Well, you look ready, even if you are a little short.”

Red bristled, but she – admirably – held her tongue. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for for her entire life. She would do her tasks and be a part of the Wild Tribe. At last. She was ready – she felt ready – and she was not going to give Chieftain Lira a reason to deny her the rite of passage.

“Your first task will be to fetch me a dragon's egg from a nest. Intact. Without killing the dragon, if you can help it.”

“Why can't I kill the dragon?” Red asked, regretting the question the moment the Chief's mischievously wild eyes turned on her, “I mean... normally the point is to, uh, kill the dragon...”

“Don't question me” the Chieftain said, snickering, “I've got my reasons.” She looked Red over, “You know, I'm tempted to make being silent for a whole day a task, just to really mess with you.” the Chieftain drawled, “But that would be boring. So. You have to be silent and navigate through the stone labryinth, from one end to the other. You have to do this without talking, and I'll bet bet you ten gold coins and a parcel of feathers that Rangion won't make it easy for you.” she winked at Rangion.

“The third task will be to cause trouble – there’s a Guardian encampment to the south, near the coast, and they need to loosen up a little. Screw with them however you want, but cause some chaos.”

The Chieftain nodded. “Well, there. Those are your tasks. Don't be fooled by first, second, third, whatever – you can do them in any order you want so long as you do them.” She turned, giving Rangion a brisk wave, “So go do them, and try not to die.”

Red watched her leave them, already seething. The Chieftain annoyed her, but Red also respected her highly. It was a complicated emotion. “All right.” she said, “I'm ready to go... Lets do the labyrinth first, 'cause that leads to the other things.”

“It's also going to be the hardest. Good call.” said Rangion, nodding.

“Pff. Nonsense. I've been runnin' that labyrinth all my life.” Red scoffed, “I know it so well, I could do it in my sleep!”

“We'll see.” Rangion said, an almost cruelly mischievous smile dancing across his face, “We'll see.”

~~~~~

“AUUUGH!” Red shrieked, her voice echoing through the carved stone walls of the labyrinth. “Will you stop with the godsdamned noises?! You are so annoying! Can't you just shut the ******** up an' let me focus?!”

The chewing sounds of Rangion's loud eating faded into laughter, and he crossed his arms, amused. “Can't you shut up?” he mocked, “You just failed. Again. I've stopped counting by the way.” he shook her head, “Really, it's too easy to get you riled up. You've gotta have control.”

“Shut up.” Red said, “Just shut up.”

“Nope.” he said, smugly, walking over to reapply her blindfold. <******** off.” she slapped his hand away, glaring, “If you spin me around again, I'll throw up on you.”

“Then you'll just be hungry.” he said, shrugging, “Frankly, this armor has seen worse. Did I tell you about the time when... Well, I'll tell you that later.” he grinned impishly and, with a fast movement grabbed her.
“Let me go!” she protested as he blindfolded her and began to march her to a good starting point.
“No.” he said, “Because we're going to keep doing this until you make your way out.”

“I'm not joking.” Red warned, as Rangion began to spin her around, “I'll puke! I promise I will!”

“I'm not joking either.” said Rangion, mildly.

~~~~~

Yirho went to look for his Dovaa friend, friend being the best way that the Darvithri could describe her. He knew where her village was, though he dared not go too close, and so he hung around the rocks and spires nearby.

Ever since he was a pup, he had been exploring his home, and so he knew of the strange rock construction in the valley. His Abba, his granddam and shamanic teacher, had told him that it had been built by the fire god Immebt, as a show of his/her artistry and to test his/her creations as they passed into the eternal haze. The spirits of dead Darv from Ayr, Abba said, had to pass through the labyrinth before they could join him/her in the Beneath.

Yirho, however, was sure that wasn't entirely true. First, it wasn't made entirely of volcanic rock – the burnt black basalt and stone that was sacred to Immebt and bled from his/her wounds. Second, it was made of cut stone, obviously constructed. Yirho was sure it was made by Magescian magic. Of course, he said nothing to his Abba, as that was blasphemous and not something a future shaman could say.

It didn't change, however, that the interlocking walls were fun to run on. Yirho's ears twitched at the echos of footsteps in the corridors, and he peered down into one to see, to his great tail-swishing delight, his friend.

Yirho pounced down in front of her, squeaking a greeting as she swerved to keep from colliding with him.

“Yirho?! What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed, glancing behind her at a clanking sound that came from just around one of the coiling corners. “Hang on, come with me.” she grabbed Yirho's furred hand before he could react and began to drag him along.

He did not resist, chittering a question as he let himself be pulled away, and she shook her head. “I can't let him hear me talking.” she turned a corner quickly, almost swinging Yirho into a wall in the process. “I gotta run this thing all quiet like, and it keeps not happening.”

Yirho had no idea what she was saying, but he understood that she didn't want the clanking noise to catch her. He chittered a reassurance at her and clambered up to the top of the wall.

“What?” Red said, “Are you going to help?”

Yirho was going to help her.

~~~~~

A dead end.

Red stared at it blankly, then up at Yirho, who seemed very pleased with himself. She'd followed his pointed directions, running at full tilt and concentrating on not colliding with the walls. She'd thought they were working well as a team, her and her Darvithri friend, and that she'd be out of this ******** maze in no time... but apparently not.

“You idiot!” she shouted up at him, “This is a dead end! We need to get out – did you hear me, out!” but of course he couldn't understand anything she said. Yelling wouldn't change that. But she was just so frustrated that she just had to yell.

“Whoops.” Rangion clanked behind her, catching up easily. “Looks like another loss, eh, Red?” His glowing sockets widened as he looked up at Yirho, perched on the wall. “What the hell is that? Wait, is that a Darv? Are you following a ******** Darv?” his hand went to his blade...

Yirho hissed, and reached for his own sword, sharp teeth bared at the apparent threat to his friend.

“Whoa, whoa.” Red waved her hands placatingly, “Yirho's my friend, Rangi. Yirho, this is Rangion. Rangion, this is Yirho. If you kill each other, that would be pretty piss awful,” Even if Rangion deserved to get stabbed right now, “So don't. Okay?”

Yirho gave her a quizzical look, but he trusted her. Rangion... not so much.

“It's a darv, Red.” he said, incredulous.

“He's my friend, Rangi. An' he was trying to help me. Failed at it, but he was trying.”

“Well, you're not allowed to have help, but...” reluctantly, he took his hand from his blade, “If he's going to be this helpful...” he gestured to the dead end, “I think we can allow it, eh?” he held out the blindfold. “Time to start over again.”

Red groaned. Would this ever end?

~~~~~

Red flung her hand over the next handhold, brow creased in concentration as she scaled the incredibly tall and steep spire. In a niche at the top was a dragon's nest – Ayralan obviously, because no other dragon would be crazy enough to nest there – and Red had to get an egg from it and bring it back with her. The parent dragons were away – both of them – and Red had the perfect opportunity for theft... if she moved fast.

Yirho climbed beside her, churring encouragement. He held onto a basket and a rope for her, objects she'd need to get the egg safely down. She was glad he had come along with her. Rangion, however, was still an annoyance He flew nearby, showing off his gorgeous wings as he hovered effortlessly nearby. He was spotting for her, but he was showing off while doing so, and Red was not happy. She wanted wings. She wanted them so badly. How could she not be a little envious of them when they made so much sense in the spired lands of Ayr? But for now, she had to climb with just her arms and legs alone. “Almost there.” she said to Yirho, “Just a little more, and we've got the nest.”

He chittered again – more encouragement. Red was glad for it.

Finally, her hand met, slipped, and then caught on the wiry straw of the dragon's nest. She pushed herself into the nest, shoving her way into it's cluttered, smelly depths. Yirho soon caught up to her, and handed her the basket. “Thanks.” she said. She selected an egg and loaded it into the basket. “Okay, you can start to lower it.” The egg was too big to carry on her back, not on such a steep climb, so they were going to lower it in intervals. First, Yirho would lower it as she climbed down. Then, she would take the basket and he would lower it. It was risky, it was dangerous, and it was the only way that Rangion would allow Yirho to help. “Lets get to that first ledge, and then rest a little.” she said, pointing.

Yirho nodded, and began to lower it as Red shimmied down the cliff.

~~~~~

They made it halfway down with their combined teamwork before trouble lurked over them. A cloudbank started to come in, ringing the tops of the spires with halos of clouds. Yirho looked up, his ears twitching as he reached for the basket. He took it in hand, preparing to lower it. “Am'ghar.” he called to Red.

Red nodded. She knew that word, or she thought she did. “Dragons.” she said back.

“Dur'gon.” he said, agreeing. He was glad when they understood each other – it made things easier. “Dur'gon... Ahir?”

“Ayrala? You think it's the parents.”

Yirho had no idea, but if she meant the residents of the nest. “Kikkshi...” he said, lowering the basket faster.

“To the ledge.” she said, pointing with a free hand, “It's covered – maybe we can hide there.”

Yirho nodded.

Red took the basket from the bottom of the rope and moved, cautiously, to the ledge, dropping onto it as Yirho followed suit. It was a covered ledge, with a niche perfect for hiding, at least for a short time. She tucked the basket into it, and huddled with it as the Darvithri joined her.

A dragon's roar arched through the sky like thunder, terrible and defiant, and a silver shape sped by their hiding spot.

“Yirho...” she whispered, patting his red hide, “I'm glad you're here.”

~~~~~

“Yirho!” The young Darvithri looked up at the elder as his name was called, trying to look serious despite the pride he felt at being called. Nevermind that the elder was his Abba, his granddam, she never noticed anyone – not even direct blood kin – without good reason. She stood over him, her confidence perfectly expressed in her posture and bearing. “For your efforts in the great ghargon hunt, I present to you your first mark of rank.” she held out a smoothed fragment of ghargon horn, painted with sacred symbols and fashioned, already, to be strung onto string. He accepted it numbly, staring at the sacred symbols in surprise – he hadn't expected a marked symbol, not for his first mark of rank. Such things were usually reserved for great feats of heroism or magic, or in commemoration of his coming-of-age fast, which would not be for another winter yet. But, then, he had been heroic, hadn't he, and he'd called magic to do it. Using the levitation spell on the falling Darv'nhyg – his tribe mate - had been difficult, and he knew his control had been shaky, but it had saved the warrior's life, holding them just long enough to save themselves from a terrible fall.

Yirho smiled surreptitiously as he stared at the mark, then watched as other young kits, much like himself, were recognized for their efforts in the hunt. But his, he noticed, was the only one marked with the sacred symbols of fire and heat, of Immebt the Flame Beneath.

Finally, the elder turned to the assembled Darvithri. “The hunt separated the weak from the strong, the clever from the stupid. The hunt has made us stronger, and has provided food to sustain us through the great winds of the chill months.” She looked down at them all from her standing spot, her expression unreadably stern. “But it has also revealed those who will grow further than the rest, those worthy of the best teachers, who will themselves be the best of the tribe, fit to sear the blood of our sworn enemies, and able to carry the message of the Flame onwards. I have chosen my apprentices, who shall learn the secrets of Flame, the young ones who showed the most promise in their blooding...” Yirho tensed like a bowstring, but he knew it was a lot to hope for, to be chosen. Only very few Darvithri were chosen by the elders, fewer still by the elders who were shamans. Abba or not, Yirho was fairly sure that he wasn't the best or the brightest.

“Amgahir, Sissuani, Yirho...” He nearly jumped, startled, at his own name, “Approach.” he did, giving the other two a stunned glance as they made their way to the elder. He could smell their nervousness, and he knew he was too. His heart beat rapidly, like a trapped bouken kicking at its restraints. “As the most promising of the kits, I have chosen the three of you as my apprentices.” She brought forth a rough earthenware jar of yellow water, stinking of the sulfur of volcanos and the salts of the windswept, dry lands, sacred materials of Immebt. “Kneel, and accept the blessing of flame.”

As the reeking mineral water washed over the fur of his face, Yirho felt affirmed. He was worth something. He was valued. And he had been recognized.

~~~~~

“You disgusting disgrace!” howled the elder, his Abba, his teacher. Yirho flinched, managing to just barely avoid a small, tallow-filled pot before it shattered on the stones, “You fought one of the dragonblooded usurpers. You fought them not once, not twice, but three times, and you failed! You failed three times, Yirho, three!” another pot, another dodge – his ears pressed themselves flat against his head – her scolding hurt, in the worst of ways. “And yet you have the cowardice to return alive?!” She threw another pot, and this time Yirho did not dodge. It blazed with her magic, exploding into burning fragments. He ignored the pain – it was no worse than the shame he felt. “They came here from their haven, stole our land, our lives, our very being! Between them and their dragon minions, we were driven from the sacred land of Immebt! To visit the heart of his-her power, to see the fire that bleeds from Beneath, we must embark on a dangerous pilgrimage, an impossible pilgrimage...” She picked up her obsidian dagger – passed down through generations of shamans and warriors, a relic, so it was told, from the first Darv to come to Ayr, fleeing their firey homeland in the wake of the god's favored two-leggers. She glared at him. “And you would show them mercy?! You would save their life?!”

He hadn't been the one to show mercy – Redh, the Dovaa, had, in not killing him those other times. That, he was ashamed of – he should not have taken her mercy. But, with the Ordon, he had saved her, and – he realized – he wasn't ashamed about that. No matter how he thought about it, it seemed the right thing to do.

Even so, the scolding hit home, and he shrunk from her as she approached. “Go.” she snarled, “Go. Leave the tribe grounds. Do not return, unless you bring the severed horns of the dragonblood who disgraced you.” she turned, bitter disgust rolling off her thinning fur. “Go, before I gut you like the failure that you are.”

Yirho left quickly, feeling every taunt and jeer from his tribe, his Darv'nhyg, like the sharpened edges of blades.
“Dragon-lover”
“Weakling!”
“Runt!”
They trailed him, taunting, until they grew bored. Finally, the last Davithri left him alone. And then, only then, did he weep.

~~~~~

He encountered Redh again not too long after he had found a crag to shelter in. He could have attacked and killed her then, taken her crystalline horns and gone home... but when she greeted him as a friend and offered him food from her own meal, he knew he could not do it. They ate and hunted and explored together and Yirho understood something important: For all her icy claws and dragon blood, Yirho had seen Redh's true nature when they had fought. He knew that they were kin in a sense deeper than blood or kind, and he knew he could trust her. He also knew, in both a moral and physical way, that he could not kill her, certainly not yet.

And so, with a grief that threatened to consume him in Ayr's dark, lonely nights, he mentally said goodbye to his tribe. He would not be coming home.

~~~~~

There were Ordon in the area – Yirho could see their massive footprints denting the silt of the riverbed. Yirho smirked, gripping his spear tightly. He was not hunting for them, but he hated the stone lizards – the Or'don'ki. If he was clever, he could take down one of them. He could show it off to Redh and she would be pleased and excited, as would he. He could take its horns and scales and maybe its meat (though Ordon were far from tasty). And there would be one less Ordon in the world.

Yirho tracked it along the river. It didn't seem to be alone, in fact it traveled in a group, but that just meant that Yirho would have to try his stealth and patience, and lure it off alone, and then kill it. He would become stronger for it.

Soon, though, he became uncertain. The tracks were leading to a familiar part of the riverbank, to where he himself had played and splashed and thrown stones as a kit. Why did they lead here, to his tribe's homeland – the place he was no longer welcome? Twin desires – a longing to glimpse home again, and a terror of what he would find, drove him forward.

There it was – his home village – but it was not as he remembered it. Blood – fresh and only just beginning to clot - flowed sullenly into the river from the bodies of Darvithri and Odon alike, the earth cracked and scorched where magical battles had been fought. Every hut and tent in the village had been destroyed, their tattered canvas flapping forlornly in the wind. Yirho stalked out into the village warily. He did not flinch at the corpses of Darv he had known his entire life – that was not the Darvithri way... not until he came upon a sign that marked, very clearly, who had won the battle. Three Darvithri, mostly intact, freshly dead, and of a high rank stood at the village's firepit. They had been impaled, the stakes through their bodies posing them in a mockery of life... and a symbol of Ordon victory.

Yirho felt the air around him heat with his rage, and then cool with the realization that there was nothing he could do here. And so, for a second time, he left his home for good. But now, there was nothing to come back to...

~~~~~

Red had been looking forward to this task. She was to cause chaos in a Guardian encampment, and she had decided to steal their fancy city-dweller food so that the tribe could feast and laugh at their misfortune. The Guardians had it coming – they always did. They thought they were better than everyone else and often, they were the people that threw Wild Tribesmen in jail. It would serve them right to mess up their feathers and scales.

Red started by setting things on fire. She threw a bottle of smelly booze, a flame dancing on the wick sticking out of its neck, and it became a fireball on a suitably flammable roof. The camp exploded into action like a disturbed insect nest, and Red ran in, laughing gleefully. She dodged the attacks of the distracted defenders, throwing a few more bottled fireballs to keep them busy as she darted, quick as a silx, into their supply tent. She grabbed as much as she could carry and then ran out into the chaos, dodging into the shadows as the flames were controlled and put out. She could hear the Guardians searching for her nearby, but she didn't feel she needed to worry – this was her home, and she was small enough to hide in any nook and cranny. Finally, she reached her meeting point.

“Red, you were told to raid the camp, not set it on fire.” Rangion said, stepping out to take some of the food.

“Well, did anybody die?”

“Nah, a couple of injuries, but mostly just singed egos...” he snickered, “Next time, fewer explosions, all right?”

“Sure.” Red picked up what would have been a Guardian's packed lunch and took a big bite of it. “So, did I pass?”

~~~~~~

Red held her tongue, but she wanted to scream her frustration to the ever present Ayr winds. It felt like she had been wandering around the maze her whole life, that there had been nothing more than the walls, the winding corridors, and Yirho's pleasant (if unhelpful) company. She was avoiding Rangion now, forcing her aching legs to move as fast as she could to lose the hybrid, though of course he reacted by flying overhead and taunting her there. So, she ignored him as best she could – and her jaw ached for it from gritting her teeth, and she wanted to scream at him and throw a few icicles at him...

Except she couldn't.

She was so done with the maze, so done with getting lost, with starting over, with all the frustrations that Rangion had put her through. If not icicles, he at least deserved something gross and slimy in his shoe... or underwear... or armor... or all of the above. But not yet. Not until she was done.

Suddenly, it loomed before her – a gap that was not a passage or a dead end or a turn. She put on a burst of speed and zoomed towards it, tearing herself free of the maze with a victorious whoop.

“Oh look.” said Rangion sarcastically, alighting on the wall near the exit, “You did it. Before I grew old and died, you did it.”

Red wanted to kiss the ground. “Shut up.” she mumbled basking in the relative openness at the end of the maze.

Yirho offered his own congratulations, churring appreciatively though he wasn't sure what the test was, entirely.

“You shut up too.” she said, with less ire.

“Well,” said Rangion, eating some bread, “I guess you passed that.”

~~~~~

“Huh.” Chief Lira gave Red an amused look as she returned, victorious, to the tribal village. “I guess you did pass your tasks after all. I'd wondered.”

Rangion smirked. “She had some trouble with the maze, but she's persistent. She got through just fine.”

“And the other two?”

“Well she set that Guardian camp abuzz...”

“And in flames if I hear correctly...” the chief smirked, “Good, always good to let them know who's really in charge out here in the wilds...”

“And I got the dragon's egg!” Red said, handing the precious oblong object to Lira.

“Good... good...” The chief stroked the smooth shell, almost greedily. Neither Rangion nor Red mentioned the Darvithri that had helped them out. Yirho had left for his shelter before they returned home, and Red felt that he might not want to be so known. Plus, Rangion didn't think that it was relevant. “So, I guess you passed.” said the Chief, “Congrats, Zamanavyi, you're one of us properly now.” She tossed Red a bronze and bone emblem, “Here's your sigil, so all will know that you're one of us. Live the wild life, embrace freedom, and show others the unfettered joy of chaos... and such.” The chieftain gave Red a shooing motion, “Now go do that. Have fun.”

Red beamed. She was Wild Tribe, now. If only her brother was here to see it...

Desert Dinner Bell

They arrived in Tukyere, an odd pair amidst odd pairs. Red knew it was a city, albeit one of hybrids (not that that meant much to her), but she hadn't expected it to be so... big. For a moment, she had an impression that anything could be found in such a place – anything at all. It scared her, a little bit.

And then she laughed it off. “C'mon, Yirho!” she said, dragging the reluctant Darvithri in behind her, “Let's go find 'im!”

Desert The End of the Journey
Red, Vetertov, and Raemos

Vetertov owed Red an explanation, and she got it... albeit through the bars of her cell that night. Vetertov had fought alongside Guardian forces and had fallen in love with their ideals – loyalty and honor. So, he had joined them. And once he had, he hadn't wanted to come back. He explained this coolly and casually, as if he hadn't ripped her heart out on a platter, as if he hadn't abandoned her and her family. Red was not a selfless woman by any means, but she riled at her brother's callous selfishness... and gave him a piece of her mind. She shouted at him until he left, and a little bit after, too.

And then she curled up in a corner and cried. Yirho, having stayed to the back of the cell, away from the arguing Magescians, moved to sit next to her, curling an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, weeping into his fur. “He... he wasn't dead, Yirho. I was right.” she sobbed, “But he might as well be... he might as well be dead, for all he cared.” Yirho didn't understand, but he was there for her.

They were kept in the brig for three days before they were released, and Red and Yirho stalked away into the city, without a word or look at the brother she had been chasing for all those years. Her journey was over. At its end had been disappointment and despair, but at least it had been resolved... finally.

As she left her rage and grief behind, she felt as though the world was open to her. She could do whatever she wanted in this place – after all, she was wild tribe. She thoroughly intended to do just that.