Disclaimer: I own nothing. Atlantis is owned by Disney.
A/N: The idea for this story came from a prompt provided by Leona.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.


It is a tangible relief to her then when they leave the populated area behind, when houses and trader's stalls give way to tall sloping stone and long shadows. (When there are no longer eyes upon them, upon her.)

Because out here it is simply the four of them as it has been so many times before. Kida carefully empties her small crossbody bag and repacks it so that it will lay flat across her back, along with her spear, as she watches Yirrel (shorter and slighter than her but extremely dexterous) leans against Ireos (larger even than the physician Sweet, and covered in tattoos) who allows the other man to do so with a fond smile until Ruim (sharp featured and deliberate in every word and movement, old - older that all of them, respected deeply as their group's leader and teacher) gives the hand signal that it is time to go.

She grins down at the monstrous look of the mask side of her shield as she quickly picks it up; the head strap goes into place, a comforting familiar weight, and she supports it with one arm - the other braced upon the stone on which she crouches along with the others. Watching through the eye holes Kida sits, tense and ready until another sharp hand signal from Ruim sends all four of them springing into motion.

In little time they are back in the familiar rhythm: utterly silent (for sound echoes loudly, and will travel far, in the caves), jumping from shadow to shadow, alert to any oddities, communicating by body motions alone. Kida revels in this - in her teammates who have known her for decades and show her no preferential treatment (who do not care if she is Princess, Queen or Goddess as long as she does her job correctly), in the feeling of wind rushing through her hair, the burn in her muscles as she runs and leaps in the pattern burned into her from so much practice, the way her whole being seems more alive as she keeps all her senses alert.

And she must be alert because this is not a normal patrol - things are much different now. The melted rocks - lava, she remembers, that is what the academics called it - changed the planes of many familiar ways while leaving some paths oddly untouched. They are mentally mapping new ways even as they keep track of which ones are still the same.

Even so, that evening when they stop for the day she offers to get the water, still feeling exhilarated and not at all tired. Kida walks a path, that while interrupted in places, is well enough known to her feet, that it easily leads her rather deeply into a cave (a smaller one - although plenty large - within the larger altogether formation), were a river from inland pools fresh water.

Or, at least it did previously. They are hoping it has not been contaminated but it is not a hardship to have to boil and strain the water. Kida would gladly go through that trouble to be allowed to stay out in the open like this. To use her body every day and live so freely.

She is so lost in her pleased thoughts, that she is most of the way inside before she realizes she is not alone.