Zohar blinked as the sun hit her eyes in a sudden way. She moved
through the crowd of people within the overfilled streets. Always wary of
strangers, Zohar kept her eyes open. Her eyes slid past the hawkers and
the merchants; their cries filling the already noisy streets. Children did
not run here. They did not laugh and play, but rather they looked
fearfully up from their mother's skirts with wide bright eyes, hoping
against hope to find a friendly face. 'Fear attracts the fearful' her
mother always said.
A sudden longing filled Zohar as she thought of her mother. Back in Illian her mother had always been there to give her advice when she needed it. Now…well, she wasn't going to think about that. Zohar gave herself a mental shake for being so silly. That was all behind her. What she needed to concentrate on at the moment was the Horn.
Zohar had been a Hunter of the Horn for barely a month and still found nothing. But she wasn't giving up hope. She had a better chance of finding it then those stupid men. Memory suddenly flared as Zohar remembered herself in the streets of Illian taking the oath. She had knelt with thousands of others; one more person had not mattered in the least to anyone. At least being a Hunter had been more exciting than her old life had ever been.
The daughter of a merchant, Zohar had always expected to inherit her father's profession until the unfortunate accident that had killed both of her parents. Having no other place to go, and having no real desire to continue her father's profession, Zohar had decided to hunt for the Horn. As a child, Zohar had always loved to listen to the endless versions of The Great Hunt of the Horn. She would sneak out of their house to go see the gleemen in town and listen with wonder for hours. The heroes and their daring deeds fascinated. Zohar was certain that one day, a gleeman would put her name down in the next epic story of the Horn.
Quietly, Zohar slipped into an Inn called, "The Jumping Jack" and sat down at a table in the corner. Within a few minutes, a serving maid brought her a cup of some vile liquid she didn't even want to taste. She paid the maid little attention; she had always hated pretty girls who flaunted themselves. Sipping the liquid without really paying notice to taste Zohar looked throughout the room with heavy lidded eyes.
Zohar knew the key to being a Hunter of the Horn. It didn't take strength as many men proclaimed, though that was a small part of it. It took cunning and cleverness to be a Hunter. Wisdom to seek out the good and bad leads and know the difference between the two and courage to go follow them. Zohar had both of those.
Her eyes swept the room silently. "I'm tellin' you! It just ain't possible for a man to do that! It must a' been some kinda…creature!" One man was telling another excitedly. The other man just shook his head and they continued to argue. A group of sailors were in conversation at another table. They twitched around and seemed to look over their shoulders often. As usual with these taverns, there was a group of loud gamblers laughing and drinking. They seemed…out of place compared to the other people in the tavern.
The city of Tear had been…uneasy lately. The citizens were restless and suspicious. Everyone looked at each other crossways and trusted no one; not even their own neighbors. Gossip and wild rumors flew about the city, all talking about strange creatures and people come from the Aiel Waste. Zohar believed none of them. That was the first rule to survive in the world; trust no one. Or at least, that was what her mother had always told her.
A sudden longing filled Zohar as she thought of her mother. Back in Illian her mother had always been there to give her advice when she needed it. Now…well, she wasn't going to think about that. Zohar gave herself a mental shake for being so silly. That was all behind her. What she needed to concentrate on at the moment was the Horn.
Zohar had been a Hunter of the Horn for barely a month and still found nothing. But she wasn't giving up hope. She had a better chance of finding it then those stupid men. Memory suddenly flared as Zohar remembered herself in the streets of Illian taking the oath. She had knelt with thousands of others; one more person had not mattered in the least to anyone. At least being a Hunter had been more exciting than her old life had ever been.
The daughter of a merchant, Zohar had always expected to inherit her father's profession until the unfortunate accident that had killed both of her parents. Having no other place to go, and having no real desire to continue her father's profession, Zohar had decided to hunt for the Horn. As a child, Zohar had always loved to listen to the endless versions of The Great Hunt of the Horn. She would sneak out of their house to go see the gleemen in town and listen with wonder for hours. The heroes and their daring deeds fascinated. Zohar was certain that one day, a gleeman would put her name down in the next epic story of the Horn.
Quietly, Zohar slipped into an Inn called, "The Jumping Jack" and sat down at a table in the corner. Within a few minutes, a serving maid brought her a cup of some vile liquid she didn't even want to taste. She paid the maid little attention; she had always hated pretty girls who flaunted themselves. Sipping the liquid without really paying notice to taste Zohar looked throughout the room with heavy lidded eyes.
Zohar knew the key to being a Hunter of the Horn. It didn't take strength as many men proclaimed, though that was a small part of it. It took cunning and cleverness to be a Hunter. Wisdom to seek out the good and bad leads and know the difference between the two and courage to go follow them. Zohar had both of those.
Her eyes swept the room silently. "I'm tellin' you! It just ain't possible for a man to do that! It must a' been some kinda…creature!" One man was telling another excitedly. The other man just shook his head and they continued to argue. A group of sailors were in conversation at another table. They twitched around and seemed to look over their shoulders often. As usual with these taverns, there was a group of loud gamblers laughing and drinking. They seemed…out of place compared to the other people in the tavern.
The city of Tear had been…uneasy lately. The citizens were restless and suspicious. Everyone looked at each other crossways and trusted no one; not even their own neighbors. Gossip and wild rumors flew about the city, all talking about strange creatures and people come from the Aiel Waste. Zohar believed none of them. That was the first rule to survive in the world; trust no one. Or at least, that was what her mother had always told her.