Nearly three years have passed...
The night's warm dry air was filled with the smell of burning ostrix dung mixed with the pleasant scent of roasting kiwi. Granatha sat looking up at the multitude of stars just outside the small woven grass hut that she shared with her aging mother and aunt. She absently played with the bone knife her father had given her the day of her first kill. Her eyes wandered the heavens as she pondered her uncle's words from earlier in the day.
Her father's eldest brother Baldarga had taken her aside after the communal fire and ancestral dancing were complete for the evening.
"You must take a mate soon, Granatha," he had said in a tone more befitting his position as clan chieftain than concerned relative. "Perhaps Terega or Selnuda. They are both strong warriors and capable hunters. Consider this carefully as I do not want to force a decision upon you, though I am able."
Terega seemed a braggart of sorts to Granatha. He always had a story about his own heroic deeds at the communal fire and never about another warrior's. Perhaps it was his young age that caused him to act so. Granatha didn't much care. He was most unlikeable.
Selnuda on the other paw was quite mature, both emotionally as well as physically. He had a number of seasons over Granatha, though he still remained both strong and handsome.
However, Selnuda also had two other mates and a pawful of children already. Granatha didn't exactly fancy becoming mate number three, especially to someone so much older than herself. She respected the man who had been such a close friend to her father, but she could never picture herself as his mate.
One of the stars above her head decided to flee the heavens in a streak of light as she considered these things. It was sure to be an omen. Granatha stood to go tell her mother when she heard a strange call come from the far end of the village.
It was no furre that made the hissing raspy noise. It was a wyrmme!
Drawing her knife from it's sheath at her waist, Granatha sounded the alarm.
"Wyrmme raiders!" Her call was echoed throughout the village as warriors rushed out of their homes carrying heavy wooden spears, bone knives, and small bows.
Women and children rushed out of the huts and tents as well. Most screamed or cried loudly as they fled toward the river bank at the western side of the village. Some of the older men took up defensive positions between the fleeing women and the perceived threat to the east.
Granatha helped her mother and aunt out of the hut before grabbing her atlatl and darts from next to the door.
"What are you doing?" asked her mother. "You have to flee with the rest of us!"
Pushing her mother into the fleeing crowd of women and children, Granatha shook her head sternly. "No, mother. I must help the warriors keep the raiders at bay! Run as far as you can and I will seek you in the morning!"
Her aunt pulled at her mother's arm while crying loudly and Granatha turned to run back toward the other side of the village before the women could say any more.
Several village warriors had already been slain by the raiders as Granatha ran through the village. Their bodies lay outside the huts pierced with stone tipped spears. The other warriors were standing their ground firmly keeping a number of mindslave furres and their wrymme masters at bay near the far edge of the village.
Granatha readied one of her darts as she ran to join the warriors. Her eyes spotted a large male lion furre about to throw a heavy spear at her uncle and chieftain. Her arm was faster than the lion's and the dart found its mark in the furre's chest.
The village warriors fought hard and when their weapons broke or left their grasp, they used their teeth and claws. Both sides lost many, but in the end the wyrmmes and their slaves proved too powerful for the village warriors.
Granatha used all of her darts and had taken up her father's knife as the raiders broke through the village ranks. Two raiders fell to her blade before a searing pain filled her mind and caused her to fall to her knees.
A large pale wyrmme wearing leather armor stepped in front of her, his reptilian eyes locked on hers with an intent and debilitating stare. A slight shimmer filled the air between them and Granatha knew at once that the wyrmme was using his psionic powers against her.
Her mind feeling as if on fire, Granatha dropped her knife and fell into an unconscious and painful haze at the wyrmme's feet.