Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Central Wakanda
Two days passed before Asha felt strong enough to leave the chambers, which she shared with T'Challa, under her own power. Her metabolism was very fast, and as a consequence the combination of a lack of food and water for nearly a week had severely weakened her. Another two days passed before the doctors deemed Natasha strong enough for transport back to the United States.
It was Tuesday morning now, and a SHIELD Quinjet would arrive around noon to pick them up. T'Challa had been called away to a short meeting with his father. Asha was ready to go except for picking up her backpack and, while T'Challa was occupied, had decided to go for a walk: she had a visit to pay to her oldest friend.
Asha left the palace with a reluctant Ayo following a couple paces back. The member of the Dora Milaje thought that, while injured, Asha should have used a car to move about the city but had been overruled. Asha made her way through the streets of the city at a slower pace than usual, occasionally wrapping an arm discreetly around her injured side, and periodically stopping to look in this shop or gaze at the merchandise of that stall. Even so, she was mainly unrecognized even by her own people, since through long necessity Asha had learned how to go unnoticed when she did not want to be seen.
It took over half-an-hour of walking at her slower place before she reached her chosen destination – a shady cemetery just past the outskirts of the city and lying in the shadow of the jungle and the great statue that watched over Wakanda's capital city. This cemetery was a private one and home to a number of Dora Milaje from years past, assorted government officials, and other friends of the king.
Ayo stopped just inside the bounds of the cemetery to give her princess privacy, and Asha walked on slowly, winding her way through the shaded cobblestone paths until she reached one particular grave. A small stone adorned the plot, made of greyish stone and adorned with finely carved letters.
Asha could feel her eyes growing misty as she gazed down at the grave and quickly dashed away a tear that wanted to fall. With a quiet hiss of pain she then knelt down to polish a dirty spot on the headstone with the corner of her coat. When the stone was clean to her satisfaction, she shifted until she was sitting on the grass.
"Hello, brother," she whispered, staring at the grave, "I'm sorry I have not come to visit you lately."
Charles Hunter
Devoted Brother and Loyal Friend
1980-2007