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Ha-nakhat kneeled close to the basin of fresh water, cupped her hands together, and splashed the icy coolness onto her face. The water hit her like a physical blow, making her recoil. It was freezing outside, and the river's water was on the brink of icing over. After giving herself a moment to recover, she kneeled closer once more and finished washing her face. As her fingers moved across her face, she groped unconsioucly for her birthmark. It—the blushing pink, petal sized mark—had been a part of her since birth, and across the years she had learned to love it, but it also set her apart from the other girls.

They were already resentful that the boys longed for her company, and lingered to hear her words, and the birth mark gave them something to whisper about.

"Witch." Some said.

"Unpure."

"Touched by death."

Ha-nakhat rose to her feet, leaving the basin where it was. As a priestess at the temple, she had servants that would wash out the water and replace it anew, in time for her evening wash. Drying her face with a soft cotton cloth, she left her bathing area and stepped outside into the temple hallways. She was surprised to find it empty.

Normally, girls flitted about it like honeybees, gossiping, singing, and carrying on conversations as they went from place to place together, usually in packs of three or four. Today, though, the hallways were abandoned. Unnaturally so. She shivered, and hurried down the hallways, hoping to find someone—anyone.

"Ha-nakhat!"

She whirled, surprise and relief mingling for dominance. When she saw who it was, relief came out the clear victor.

"Chet—there you are," she smiled at one of her few friends. "Where is everyone?"

"Ha-nakhat, you're missing it!"

"Missing what?"

"There's a new warrior, here. He's stronger than three men combined! The pharoh is welcoming him, personally. Everyone's out admiring him."

Chet grabbed her by the hand and tugged, and before she could protest, she was being dragged down the winding hallways and out the door of the temple, and into the royal dining room, which was connected to the temple by a long golden hallway. Sure enough, the room was packed with bodies—the highest of the highest, naturally.

"Where is he?" Ha-nakhat asked, straining to get a view of this inhumanly strong creature.

"There," Chet pointed, but Ha-nakhat could not see.

Chet took her hand once more and pulled, until they wer only twenty feet away from the pharoah himself, who had one arm draped on the stranger's shoulder, and was showing off the platters or roasted meat, bowls of ripe fruit, and fine china it was all served on. Ha-nakhat was not expecting to be impressed. Chet often swooned over men, pointing them out one by one as if they were fine cats on display.

This time, though, her mind whirled and her heart pounded in a way that she had never experienced. There was just something about that man. He was beautiful. With hair as light as the sun, and eyes as powerful as the moon. His skin was tanned and looked so smooth that Ha-nakhat could imagine herself touching it; felt like she had touched it, before, although that was impossible. She had never seen the man in her life.

She was still in the process of staring when the stranger scanned the crowd. She watched, frozen, as his eyes met hers. They stared at each other, and Ha-nakhat felt tendrils of mist creep up her arms. Her heart stopped pumping blood into her veins. Heat coursed through her face, smoking up her vision. Was she going to faint? What was happening?

"Ha-nakhat? Ha-nakhat? Are you okay?" Someone grabbed her by the arm and shook her, turning her eyes away from the stranger.

Ha-nakhat jolted into place. "What?"

Chet was staring. "Ha-nakhat, you weren't listening to a word I was saying. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She said, too quickly. "Nothing at all."

She turned away from Chet, searching once again for the stranger. He was not there, though, and she was surprised at how dissapointed she was. How strangely hopeful she had been. She sighed. What was wrong with her?

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, on the sleeve of her dress, but she ignored it. All she wanted to do was leave this crowded, cramped place. Get outside.

Another tap, and a voice to go with it, this time. "Excuse me."

The voice was really too lilting, too lovely to be ignored. She turned, and widened her eyes as she realized who it was. The stranger. The warrior. Whoever he was.

"Oh." She gasped. "Hello."

"Hello."

At loss of what else to say, she asked "Who are you? I mean, what are you doing in our kingdom?"

"Just passing through," he said, in that same velvety tone. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her, and she couldn't seem to mind. "I'm a stranger to this region."

"What is your name?"

He paused, taking her for another long second before responding. "Thierry. My name is Thierry."

Thierry. She said it aloud in her mind, and was again surprised at the familiarity it inspired. Like she had met him long ago, or else in a forgotten dream. Her heart beat so loud that she could hear it, even in the crowd.

"My name is Ha-nakhat." She said, even though he hadn't asked.

"Ha-nakhat." He said her name like it was a caress. "You're lovely."

The last part was less of a compliment and more of a fact. Like he couldn't help but say it.

"Thank yo—," someone from behind her came too close, and she bumped into Thierry.

It was only a little touch—her arm connected with his—but all of a sudden, Ha-nakhat's mind was whirling. Her knees turned into honey, and she had to grip him harder, to keep from falling. But even more than her physical reaction was her mental one. She felt right. Safe. Like finally—finally!—everything was how it was supposed to be. Like here was her piece of eternal bliss. And somehow, impossible as it sounded, she could sense that he felt the same way. Wonder. Shock. Warmth. They leaned even closer together, the crowd dissapearing—

"Ha-nakhat!"

Chet jerked her away, and the world was cold. She felt blind.

"What are you doing?" Chet hissed. "You're lucky nobody's looking this way. Come on."

Hannah fumbled to get another look at Thierry as Chet dragged her away, but couldn't find him in the crowd. It was only when they were back in the temple that Chet slowed.

"You looked like you were about to kiss him!" Chet said.

Ha-nakhat did not respond, and Chet widened her eyes, until twin moons stared at her.

"Ha-nakhat, do you even know him?" Chet demanded.

She shook her head.

"I've never seen him before." She said. "He's a complete stranger."

It was the truth. It had to be the truth. Ha-nakhat shook Chet's hands away and retired to her room, lying restlessly on her bed. She did not come out until dinner, preferring to dream away the day with thoughts of the stranger's—no, Thierry's, face. When she had said that he was a stranger, it had been a fact. But then, why did it feel so much like a lie?

And why, more importantly, was she dying to see him again?

Thank you for checking out my new story! I haven't decided if this is just a one-shot or a few chapters, all the way up until Maya comes in and ruins things. So, let me know in the comments if you think I should continue, or else just what you thought about it. Ideas, opinions, and thoughts are all equally welcome.

Thank you!