A/N: Reporting for duty! I'm back with this story and have the outlines up to chapter 9 so far and, with the two-week break in college classes starting tomorrow, I'll dedicate myself to typing up a storm. For those who've read the prologue and chapter one, I've made some minor changes, nothing that will spoil the newest chapters. Enough said- enjoy!
Aimée bat'Sikandar held her scarf in place as the dry Ishvalan wind whipped at it with the same desolate, poverty-stricken air it had nine years before when it had tried soothing its suffering child on the brink of death. Today, the wind greeted her as a stranger, inquiring her name and business; she ignored its voice, and it left her in peace to continue looking at the place she'd once called home. She could see better days for Ishval—in the past, because the future wasn't yet concrete nor tangible, and till it was it remained a dream fueled by hope and faith.
Wrapping the red scarf over her nose to keep the sand away from her face, Aimée tilted her eyes toward the twilight sky that promised a light rain for the people of Ishvala. Even after her traumatic and painful near-death, she continued believing in Ishvala's faithfulness. He'd never abandoned her that night, just as he'd never forsaken every other Ishvalan under the sun. The rain about to fall was one proof of his provision. Their lives were another one, regardless of how they'd held on to them.
Lightning flashed in the distant sky, and she lowered her face to utter a concise prayer to her God. She asked for courage and wisdom, and for her people's welfare in the days ahead. She prayed for her new family's success. But moreover, she pleaded Ishvala for the noble and good and brave, that they might arise and fight; and when it was all over, that they would remain standing.
Only time would tell if Ishvala conceded her heartfelt requests.