Author's Note: Yes, I realize that the time between my updates has been wretchedly long. If you'd like to get the full update on the situation, please check my profile page. Typing out the many things dragging my writing life to hell is overwhelmingly depressing. On another note, now that I've gotten the scene set, the view may be biased to mainly covering one character or another's viewpoint better than the others. A thanks to all of you who have reviewed or added me to an alert list. Your notes have been entirely welcome and helpful, giving me the needed kick to keep working.

With Love, Listen Out Loud.

To be honest, I absolutely hate this chapter. I had to write it to get somewhere, but it's almost unnecessary and I really wish I didn't have to post it. Struggle through it please.

oOOo

Hidden as she was in the enclave created by the rocky overhang, Naida felt at ease enough to relax into her saddlebags. The storm raged outside, lessening only slightly as time wore on in the stiflingly hot Egyptian afternoon. She tugged down the worn and filthy cloth covering her face from nose to jaw. Spitting out a glob of saliva gritty with sand, she swigged the lukewarm water from her canteen, wishing for the cool water that was available in the city.

"Ah, hells," she muttered grimly, annoyed at her petty desires. She was working a job she had a passion for, surrounded by friends and coworkers burning with a similar passion and yet here she was, wishing for colder water. She quirked her lips and took a careful sip, not wanting to venture out into the sands to find a pump. A snort of displeasure and a sharp shove on her back caused her to spit out her sip in a fine mist, sloshing some of the water from its leather confines as she lurched forward. With a glare, she turned in her sitting position to have a horse snuff in her face.

She laughed, "Thirsty, are we Sahi?" she said, scrubbing her fingers through the pale tuft of fur on the top of her horse's head. Sahi tossed her head, lips grazing the top of the canteen as she sought the moisture available. Naida tipped the canteen up, letting her horse suckle like a young animal. Sated, the cream colored Arabian horse folded her knees underneath her and thumped onto the cool ground, rolling slightly in the sand. Naida felt her face break into a grin at the antics of her beloved mare.

Gazing out into the raging sands once more, she slid down farther, letting the bags pillow her head as she gazed up at the ceiling. The empty canteen was placed to the side, a distraction she would worry about later.

This place had been perfect once she had found it. Formed by rubble fallen from a hidden monument below, its entrance faced north, towards the statue of Ozymandias in the distance. The sun passed over head, keeping this place cooler, as it didn't receive the brunt of morning or evening sunlight. It was on the outskirts of their encampment, giving her the privacy she desired. Even better, the time between the convenient falling of such a masterpiece and her gleeful discovery of it had heaped sand upon it by the cartload. To the casual observer, it merely seemed to be another dune in a sea of sand and rocks. It had taken some convincing to get Sahi inside, but the horse had always been quick to take to new places.

It had been days before she had discovered her oblivious error. The small dinner fire had scorched the ceiling with long tendrils of black soot, eventually uncovering hieroglyphs on the stone surface. She quickly cleared out the fire, refusing to have such a prize marred by human needs. Somewhat proficient with reading the ancient Egyptian text, she kept the discovery to herself for the time present, choosing to set it aside as her pet project. She eyes traced the pictures' linear forms, mouth moving silently as she continued her translation.

Child born… e o… no… uma… odde… king kept… daught… She scowled. The huge slab was covered in pictures that made no sense to her without the story around it. Unfortunately, a great percent of the glyphs had been worn away, leaving her with the occasional decipherable character or phrase.

The jingle of a bell against the howling of the still furious sandstorm distracted her as she attempted to sort out the story overhead. Naida sat up on her elbows, looking at the still swaying bell, a frown playing across her face. Odd, usually Demetrius only called when night fell and he was too tired to keep cataloging that day's finds, meager as they had been. It wasn't even evening yet. She had been expecting to wait until the storm subsided before going back to the pointless digging Demetrius had her doing.

She scrambled up as the bell rung again.

"Geez, Dee, you seem a little more impatient than usual today," she muttered to herself, slowly standing and turning to dig through her bag. "I kinda hoped he might've waited until after the storm," she sighed, belting on her knife and tool kit, checking the brush heads to make sure they weren't clogged with residue. Chucking things aside, she pulled a pair of goggles from her bag, sliding back her head wrap to slip them on. Her silky, raven black hair slipped free of its constraints, lifting a bit in the wind. She cursed under her breath, reaching back to tame it with a strip of black cloth. She carefully wrapped the cloth around her head, slipping down the goggles and blinking as her eyes adjusted to the side blinders. Grabbing the canteen for a refill, she clipped it to her belt in the hopes of getting some from Demetrius's stock.

She inched outside, buffeted by the winds as she felt for the proper handhold. Her fingers brushed against the still warm stone, feeling the rough sandstone beneath her calluses. Her hand ran over the rounded edges as she shuffled forward, head bowed against the wind and sand. Her hand dropped into space and she reached forward blindly, feeling for the second stone block that led in almost a trail from her private cave to the main camp. Finding it, she continued forward at the infuriatingly slow pace, inwardly swearing that she would kill whoever rang the bell.

The bell system had been installed by Dr. Canton, Demetrius's father. The line that rang the bell ran under the sand on the inside of a thin tube. He had laid it down in a moment of "genius" as a way to call her when needed as she refused to join the encampment. It had frustrated her immensely, but she came to accept it as he didn't abuse the allowance.

In a moment of feverish swearing and loss of balance, Naida felt her foot snag on a stone underfoot, sending her stumbling to the right to land face first on a flat slab, her canteen snapping loose and skittering away. She swore once, growling vindications of vengeance on her employer as she sat, up examining the bloodied heel of her hand. Ripping off the face slip of her wrap, she carefully tied it around her hand, keeping the sand from working its way inside her wound. She stood and licked her dryi lips, moving forward slowly in an attempt to find her lost canteen.

Prickling worked its way up her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting in response to the primal feeling. Instinctively, she dropped to lie belly down on the sand, watching several black shapes move past her in the storm. Indistinct, they moved forward with purpose, quickly disappearing.

She got up quickly, following them, the pit of her stomach churning with uneasiness. She didn't need to see them to know they weren't diggers or archeologists. Her friends… they had to be warned. But she was no great warrior. A few basics here and there when she was a child did not make her capable of fighting off a full grown man, much less as many as she had seen. She stumbled on anyway, hoping the storm would keep up its ferocity, as the sands might hide her from view.

In her worry, her senses were dulled and she fell back onto her rear as she collided with the taut fabric wall of a tent. Shaking her head to rid it of the shock of collision, she got up, letting her hands run over the wall as she worked her way around the side.

A voice froze her in her footsteps as she rounded the side to face what she believed was the center of camp. The circle of tents was nearly invisible, but she recognized where she was in moments without the need for sight.

"P-please, we'll give you what want, j-just don't ki-kill us," a man sobbed. Dr. Canton. Kill? "You want the money? Take it! P-please-"

"Search the crates," another, deeper voice ordered, ignoring the blubbering doctor. "Find me if you find anything. You know what to do if you do." Voices muttered acknowledgements and Naida heard the tent flap being opened. She slid back to hide herself from view, watching as several black figures left and moved quickly towards other tents.

She paused, her heart beating madly in her chest as she weighed her options. She could run, hiding out in her cave until the men left. But they could kill her friends for finding God knows what. A shard of pottery, an interesting looking stone with a few isolated glyphs etched into the surface, anything could be the trigger that caused her friends to die. On the other hand, she could barge in, "guns ablaze" as an American would put it, demanding their release. But she was no match for one desert man, much less a few. Naida moved forward hesitantly, still arguing her choices. A sudden gunshot in the distance forced her hand.

A yelp leapt from her mouth and she felt herself flinch as a hand shot from the flap opening and, grabbing her tunic front, dragged her inside. A knife pressed itself to her throat, a sneering, Egyptian nomad holding it with a look of triumph.