"No, no, no, no," you sigh aggravatedly, running your fingers through your dishelved blonde locks as you take several hurried steps forward, in an attempt to intervene before it is too late. "Em pleni! Stop!"
You reach out and wrap your fingers tightly around one young warrior's wrist, catching her arm midswing and growling angrily when you are forced to duck beneath a sword that arcs dangerously over your head, the edge of the blade skimming over your scalp. Your upper lip lifts in a furious snarl as you kick out, sweeping the other woman off her feet and causing her to hit the ground with a heavy thud. "Stop."
The young woman that you knocked down scrambles to her feet, sword hanging limply by her side as she gazes up at you with a mixture of frustration and embaressment, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. You glance between her and her sparring partner, whose wrist is still clasped in your iron grip, with your blue eyes gone dangerously cold.
"What are you doing?" You can't help but hiss with disgust, finally releasing the young warrior's wrist as you step back to regard them both in disbelief. The two women gaze back at you meekly as embaressment flushes their cheeks, refusing to look at each other and that just makes you angrier, the slow building ball of rage in your chest pulsing furiously. The woman whose wrist you caught is smaller in stature, a warrior of the delfikru, while the other is of the yuljeda, both known to be fairly peaceful clans, though they hadn't been acting like it only moments ago. "Who trained you?"
You are aware of the fact that you are being more harsh than neccessary as you watch twin blushes creep up their necks, but the past week and a half has been trying, to say the least. You are tired and overworked and you have spent the last few days training with what seems to be the most inept warriors that coalition has to offer and it is beginning to get to you more than you wish to admit. The commander had asked for your assistance in training the more peaceful clans from the coalition, so that they would be ready for the war to come and you had begun to regret your desicion to help after the very first day. It is like training with children, only there are hundreds of them, all packed into the same small space underneath your watchful eye.
(you spare a brief, grateful thought for your mother, because you imagine that this must be what it would be like to train a seken, though infinitely less rewarding.)
"We do not slash and hack like animals," you snarl, glaring at the two women who look more and more uncomfortable with every second that passes, but you are beyond compassion now. A few warriors nearby have stopped to watch, eager to see Wanheda tear these branwadas apart, but you pay them no mind. "I have given you very simple excersises and no where in the instructions given did I say to battle against one another as if you are fighting to the death. Are you unaware of the fact that you are on the same side?"
"Apologies, Wanheda," the young warrior from the delfikru murmurs contritely, while the other woman nods her head in meek agreement beneath your harsh glare. "I know it is no excuse, but emotions have been running high and I believe that we just...got caught up in the moment?"
You clench your jaw at the answer, wanting to snap back at these girls that stare up at you with wide, earnest eyes, but you cannot fault them. The field where the training has been taking place over the past few days is packed with warriors and patience has been running thin with so many people from different clans in the same small space. The same could be said for the entire city of Polis, in fact.
There are only three days left before you are due to begin your march from Polis to the plains outside of tondisi and each clan that you have been expecting to arrive in the capital has, except for azgeda. The city has been practically alive with activity since the commander sent out messagers with the information of the army's upcoming departure, almost two weeks ago. The news had barely begun to settle when the first groups of warriors for the commander's army began to arrive in the city, from the clans closest to the capitol. Warriors from the delfikru arrived first, two hundred strong camped outside the gates of the city, followed barely a day later by one hundred and fifty of the men and women of the yujleda clan, all seasoned warriors.
Less than a week later, the city watched with awe as the warriors from the Louwada Kliron strode proudly through the streets, all four hundred of them. They were dressed in the dark furs and leathers of their people, cloaks made from the skins of fearsome beasts resting across their shoulders proudly, with black warpaint smeared across their angular features. The general of their army, Kane, had dropped to his knees before his heda outside the tower of Polis when they arrived and the commander had received them graciously.
Two days after the arrival of Kane and his people, both the sangedakru and the ingranrona arrived together, which had almost started a war in itself. Each clan had brought more than three hundred warriors each and almost double the amount of horses and you did not envy the commander when she had to inevitably order them to camp on seperate sides of the city, just to stop the fights that kept breaking out between the two hostile clans.
The entire city was in complete chaos, full to bursting with more people than the city was built to hold. You could barely walk through the streets without constantly brushing against another body and tempers had shortened drastically without even the comfort of personal jokking space to keep everyone in good spirits.
So yes, you can understand the brief loss of control; but that doesn't mean that you have to like it.
"Okay," you finally say, releasing a heavy breath through your nose as you allow your shoulders to relax fractionally, regarding the two women with slightly softer eyes, though your expression remains cool. "I understand, believe me, I do, but the next time that I see you two brawling in such a way, I will not be so tolerant, understood?"
The two women nods their heads seriously, a hint of fear expressed in their eyes as they walk away, turning around to face each other to begin sparring once more, though much more skillfully this time. You nod your head in approval as you watch them for another few moments, before you turn away to regard the rest of the field.
It is chaotic, with more than five hundred warriors sparring together in designated sections of the cramped field and it is almost clostrophobic. Each day you have been training with large groups from select clans of the coalition, sangedakru and louwada kliron yesterday and delfikru, yuljeda and the ingranrona today. People from your own kru wander between the warriors of the other clans, adjusting sword grips and offering guidance to the least skilled sword fighters and you catch a glimpse of Onya on the other end of the field, demonstrating with a spear in front of a large crowd of women who watch her with wide, awe filled eyes. The sight makes you smile and you give the other woman a small wave when she meets your gaze from across the training ground, recieving a small smirk and a nod in response.
"They admire you greatly," a soft, musical voice pulls you from your thoughts, the tone of voice seemingly sincere, though you detect a certain bitterness that sharpens the edges of each word. "Though, with a title such as yours, it is not difficult to discover as to why."
From someone else, this could be taken as a compliment of sorts, but you understand these particular words for what they are; a subtle jab at your less than appealing title of Wanheda. You let the statement roll off your shoulders as you have so many times before, though you cannot deny the way the numerous kill scars on your back burn in response, a constant reminder of what you have done to earn such a name.
"There is nothing admirable about death, nor in being the one to command it," you murmur gently in response, tilting your head to catch the gaze of your unexpected visitor. "Though, I suppose you know that, don't you, Kostia?"
The dark skinned woman lifts her chin in acknowledgement, even as her hazel eyes scruitinize you, curious and thoughtful. "It is hard to glorify war and death when you are the one that tends to the people that it leaves broken in it's wake, but you understand that. You are a healer too, arent you, Klark?"
You nod your head once, holding the other woman's stare as she searches your eyes, until she finally tears her gaze away with a soft laugh. There is no real humor to the sound and despite the small smile on Kostia's lips, it does not reach her eyes.
"You are the human form of a contradiction, Klark," Kostia says, gently shaking her head as she returns her gaze back to your face. "I have watched you since you first entered the city and you are engima to me. How can one person be such a fierce fighter, feared throughout the entire coalition and yet bear such a truly kind hearted soul? You take life so easily with the same hands that heal wounds, both mental and physical, so effectively. Explain it to me, how you can be this way, because I just cannot understand."
You take a moment to consider her words, and while you know that you do not need to explain yourself to this woman, you find yourself wanting to. You don't know why, but you feel as if there is more to this conversation than you are aware of, more to what Kostia is saying than she is putting into words.
You think it has something to do with her eyes; her beautiful hazel eyes that plead with you for answer that seemingly only you can give.
"We are who we are, Kostia," you finally settle on saying, surprised by the sharp look that you recieve in return, though you ignore it in favor of continuing. "I am who my people need me to be, when they need it. Everything I do, I do for my people."
"Words that I have heard more times than I care to admit, recently," Kostia says, with a surprising amount of bitterness; and that is when you finally understand what this is really about.
The commander, of course.
"Heda does what she must," you say gently, though you know that it is not your place. "She does what is best for her people."
"Even at the sake of her own happiness," Kostia adds, the sparks of anger fading from her eyes to be replaced with a bone deep sadness that unexpectedly clutches at your heart.
"Yes, as is her duty as heda," you agree firmly, before you give a gentle sigh and conciously soften your voice. "I believe that if she had the ability to choose, she would put you above all else, but she is not afforded such liberty. She was born for this, Kostia."
Same as me, you think silently.
"Born to die," Kostia whispers, her musical voice shattering with despair as she attempts to blink away the tears that have welled up in the corners of her eyes. The words she says and the sight of her heartbroken expression are too much for you and you turn your gaze away, mulling the comment over in your head.
"Maybe," you finally mutter after several moments of heavy silence, before you give a gentle shake of your head. "Though, from what I have seen, the commander is nothing if not a survivor."
You stand there in silence for a short while, both your gazes fixed upon the training ground, where the warriors continue to train beneath the glare of the afternoon sun, oblivious to the conversation taking place on the edge of the field.
"Shouldn't life be about more than just surviving?" Kostia whispers, her voice so soft that you have to strain to hear each heart wrenching word as it slips from her trembling lips. "Don't we deserve better than that?"
The words strike an unexpectedly tender place in your chest, spoken with such desperate longing that leaves your heart aching in response. You blink back the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corners of your eyes, turning your head to offer the other woman a tremulous smile.
"Maybe we do," you finally say after a few moments of consideration, as Kostia stares back at you with wide, hopeful eyes. "And that is what we are fighting for, Kostia, what heda is fighting for. For the day when our people are safe, when we no longer have to look over our shoulders in fear, when we finally have peace."
Kostia studies you, her eyes wet as she takes in your earnest expression before she gently shakes her head, offering you a small smile in response. You continue to gaze upon her profile as she turns her head away, her eyes flickering over the warriors training in the field before they return to you, full of conflicting emotions.
"For what it is worth, I hope that you are right," she offers, before extending her forearm for you to grip, her slender fingers wrapping warmly around your skin in return. "I wish you luck, Klark kom azgedakru. May you find your peace, in this life and the next."
You nod your head once, squeezing her forearm with a smile. "May we meet again."
You watch her walk away until her lithe body disappears down the path that leads back to the city and it is only once she is gone that your smile finally faulters, having disappeared completely by the time you return your gaze to the field.
It is almost sun down when you call a halt to the day's training session, feeling a small flame of pride burn in your chest as the warriors that surround you trudge wearily from the field. It has been a long, long day, but more progress had been made than you had dared hope for and that knowledge has you practically bouncing toward the trail that leads back into the city proper. Luna waits for you there, leaning against the rough bark of a tree as she watches you jog towards her with bright, dancing eyes.
"Hello, Klark," she greets you warmly when you come to a stop beside her, flashing you a grin which you return easily. "I see that progress has been born of your tireless labor."
She nods her head in the direction of two warriors that pass you, passionately discussing a move that you had demonstrated to them during the afternoon and you smile. You feel proud and happy and you find that you can barely wait to tell the commander of the progress you have made.
The thought doesn't give you pause as it might have a few weeks ago; you've made peace with this knowledge, this desire to find the commander and tell her of every new accomplishment made in relation to the upcoming war. You feel as if she is the only one in the entire city who understands your passion when it comes to bringing down the Mountain. Every positive step you take towards winning this war, whether it be coming up with new plans or training to make your people stronger, fills you with hope and you instinctively want to discuss it with the commander, to see that same hope reflected back at you in her eyes.
"Yes," you reply smugly, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to watch the last few warriors blend into the trees, to return to their individual camps outside the city. "Things are progressing much better than I ever dared hope for, that is for sure."
Luna hums appreciatively, gently nudging her shoulder with yours before giving a soft sigh. "Come on, then, prisa. The war meeting will be starting soon and we best not keep the commander waiting, especially not today of all days."
You shoot a look at your friend, wary of her warning, even as you lift your fingers to your lips and give a shrill whistle. Onya glances up at the sound from where she is standing on the opposite side of the field, placing spare blunted practice swords into a bag. She gives you a small hand signal in response, followed shortly by another ruder sign, before returning to her work. You huff a short laugh and turn back to Luna, who is still watching Onya with a smirk, shaking her head amusedly.
"Why 'especially not today'?" You question her with a raise of your eyebrow, your forehead furrowing when Luna simply gives a short shrug in answer.
"Kostia left," she murmurs distractedly, her eyes still focused on Onya, who is now striding towards you both with her bag of weapons slung over her shoulder. Your jaw drops in shock at the information and you give the other woman a hard shove to gain her attention, causing her to face you with a confused expression. "What?"
"What do you mean, 'Kostia left'?" You ask her, heatedly. "I thought she wasn't meant to leave until after we had begun our march to the plains?"
"She changed her mind? I do not know," Luna replies at your questioning stare, shrugging her shoulders once more. "I saw her off at the city gates a few hours ago with heda. My guard Tovi is travelling with her until they reach the coast and then she will return to meet us in the plains. That is all I know, Klark."
"Good riddance," Onya snarls as she passes you both, striding down the trail that leads back to the city. "The girl always flees at the first sign of trouble; she had no place in Polis with the commander."
"Hey." You snap with an unexpected amount of anger, roughly shoving Onya's back, only to recieve a small growl and a look thrown over the general's shoulder as you trail along behind her. "She loves her. That has to count for something."
Onya simply rolls her eyes, snorting derisively, and her voice is low with barely repressed anger when she finally replies. "Maybe she does, but not enough to stay, it seems."
You have nothing to say to that, so you merely stay silent as you follow Onya back to the city, with Luna walking quietly at your side, glancing at you from the corner of her eye with a thoughtful expression.
The commander is indeed irritable, you notice, after only taking three steps into the war room.
She leans over the table, her palms pressed flat upon the map, with one finger tapping relentlessly against the rough fabric. She glances up when you enter, her eyes flickering between you and Luna, who walks in besides you, only to look away immediately with a twitch of her upper lip. You hover briefly in place, standing in your normal spot on the opposite side of the table at Luna's side, before you make a swift desicion.
You ignore the eyes that watch you as you walk slowly around the large table, most noticeably Indra, who glares at you distrustfully, and Luna who watches you with a small, knowing smile. You can see Onya out of the corner of your eye from where she leans against the wall, her almond coloured eyes following you as you pass her by, though her expression doesn't change as you squeeze into the small space between the commander and Hephan, who moves aside with a raised eyebrow to make room for you.
You say nothing, merely clasping your hands behind your back as you stare forward, waiting for the rest of the clan leaders to take their places around the table. The commander doesn't spare you a glance, continuing to stare hard at the map, but you can feel the increased warmth of her body as she unconciously leans closer to you.
It makes you want to smile, though you manage to keep your features controlled in your usual impassive expression with some effort.
The commander does not look up when the door finally closes behind Leida kom podakru, the last to arrive. Her head tilts slightly, her green eyes still focused intently upon the map when she peels her plush pink lips apart to speak.
"To win this war, we must infiltrate the Mountain," she says slowly, one slender hand reaching out to brush over the yellow flowers that bloom in front of the Mounon's door. "The question is, how?"
The room is filled with a thoughtful silence as everyone simultaneously ponders the question, their eyes focused intently upon the map as if staring hard enough will provide an answer. You do not follow their gaze, instead choosing to watch the other inhabitants of the room, as is your way. You watch their brows furrow and crease in thought, their eyes flick across the map in a futile search mission, and finally, one set of lips part to speak, half answer, half question.
"The tunnels?" Luna asks, her eyes flicking up to meet your gaze and you give her a small smile in answer. You have already discussed this question multiple times with the commander during your private meetings and while you were yet to come up with a concrete plan, you agreed that the tunnels used by the reapers is one of your more viable options.
"No one who has entered the tunnels has returned alive," Indra replies scornfully, earning her a harsh glare from your eyes that she responds to with a sneer. "Anyone who enters is killed by the reapers or the Mountain Men. It is a foolish idea."
"It is not foolish," you snap back, despite your self loathing at rising to Indra's baiting. You can see the commander's head tilt in your direction as she listens to you speak, offering to hear you out, though she does not lift her head to look at you. "Using the tunnels beneath the Mountain is a valid option. It is completely feasible that there is another door that leads inside and it is vital that we know where it is, if only because the Mountain Men could use it against us to escape or to attack us from another direction."
"Klark is right," the commander says, cutting off Indra who had opened her mouth to argue. You shoot the older woman a smug look, which disappears swiftly upon hearing heda's next words. "Nevertheless, if there is another door that leads into the Mountain, surely it will be as impenetrable as the one we are faced with outside, which places us back at the beginning. How do we get inside the Mountain?"
The room falls back into silence and you are forced to bite your tongue until the metallic tang of blood fills your mouth at the sight of Indra's triumphant smirk. The commander shifts briefly at your side, the movement followed by an increased warmth as her shoulder ends up pressed against your biscep.
The unexpected touch should set off alarm bells in your brain, but it doesn't. Instead, you find your body slowly relaxing in response, the tension draining from your shoulders.
"Klark," Onya's voice suddenly breaks the silence, causing the entire room to divert their attention to the trikru general, who has taken a step in your direction, though her eyes are focused intently upon the map. "How did you create that old world bomb you used to explode that abandoned hut with Reivon when you were young?"
Your brow furrows briefly with confusion at the unexpected question, before your eyes widen with sudden enlightenment. Your mouth gapes open as you return your gaze back to the small model of the Mountain's door, before a grin begins to tug at the corner of your lips. "Nomonjokka."
The commander has turned finally to fix her gaze upon you, her green eyes brightening with something like hope as she catches your gaze. You feel the overwhelming desire to turn that hope into something tangible and you very suddenly need to find Reivon, like, yesterday.
You are scrambling away from the table barely a second later, practically tripping over your own feet in your haste to get out of the room. The last place you had seen Reivon had been at the tavern, where you had promised to meet her after your war meeting was finished, so you decide that is where you will look for her first. You fling open the door to the war room, so lost in your thoughts that you almost crash into the guard that is standing on the other side, staring back at you with wide eyes.
"Klark kom azgedakru," he says breathlessly, as if he had just run ten miles, which might not be far from the truth as you notice the beads of sweat that trickle down his brow. "I came to inform you; your people have been sighted less than a mile away from the city gates-"
You don't even let the man finish his sentence, merely push past him and take off at a run, sprinting through the throne room and down the corridor, where you can see the elevator doors open and ready for you.
"Take me to the ground," you snap at the guards as you fly past them, skidding into the elevator and almost slamming into the opposite wall in your haste. "Now!"
The guards have barely begun to force the doors closed when a half armored body bolts through the closing metal slabs behind you. You are both surprised and yet not when the commander turns to face you in the small space, her green eyes practically crackling with a newfound energy as the doors finally close and the elevator jolts as it begins its decent.
"We shall pick up your Reivon on the way to the city gates," the commander says, once she has straightened her red sash over her chest which had been displaced in her rush to follow you into the elevator. "We should have spoken to her much sooner. I do not know how such information did not occur to us when we discussed this before."
You shrug your shoulders as your booted foot taps impatiently against the steel floor. "We have been busy, heda. With our thoughts focused on so many different plans, it is easy for others to slip through the cracks. It happens."
"It cannot," the commander almost growls in response, causing you to turn your head in surprise. "We cannot allow such things to slip through the cracks, Klark. I cannot allow it. Much has been sacrificed for this war, with more sacrifices to inevitably come and I will not allow it all to go to waste because I simply overlooked what could be a piece of knowledge that could win us this war."
You bite your lip at the other woman's angry expression, though you know that the anger is not directed at you but rather at the commander herself, and somehow, that makes it worse. You cannot imagine what it must be like to hold so much weight upon one's shoulders, to know that the very survival of your people is based on your every desicion. Your life and the lives of every one of your people rested almost solely in the hands of the woman at your side and with one wrong move, every single one of those lives could be lost.
You think it is too heavy a burden to bear for one person alone and yet, this woman bears the weight willingly, her shoulders never once slumping beneath it.
It is honestly awe inspiring and not for the first time, you are reminded of why you agreed so easily to fight alongside this woman. Every word and every action she has taken since you have arrived in Polis has only strengthed your belief in this war and in the commander herself, whom you now confidently believe will find a way to get you and your people through it, even if it causes the commander's own death.
It is not so shocking as it might have been weeks ago, to find that that is not something that you want, not anymore.
"Despite what you and apparently, the entire known world, believe, you are human, heda," you murmur, earning a sharp look from the commander, which would could have cut you if such a thing were possible, you are sure. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to look up and meet the other woman's eyes as you continue. "Mistakes will be made, yours and mine, and people will die because of it; such a thing is inevitable, I know. But," you say sharply, when it looks as if the commander plans to intervene. "The war has not yet begun, Leksa, and placing blame upon your shoulders for something that has not yet happened is unneccessary. If and when such a thing happens, we will deal with it then, together."
The commander stares back at you for several long moments, her expression a blank mask, if not for the conflicting emotions battling for dominance in her green eyes. "Together?"
It is more a question than a statement, spoken in a tone that is more vulnerable than any you have ever heard from the commander. Your lips tip up in a small smile as you nod, reaching out briefly to wrap your fingers around the commander's wrist and squeeze.
"Together." You confirm, before you drop your hand back to your side, heaving out a soft sigh and turning to face the doors as the elevator rumbles to a slow stop. You bite your lip, so many thoughts of so many things that you want to say in this moment running through your head, but you settle on simply saying. "I'm not going anywhere, Leksa."
You meet her eyes briefly as the doors are slowly forced open by the guards outside, and you hope that your inner thoughts are conveyed through that one single glance.
I'm sorry about Costia. I'm sorry that she left. I'm sorry that you have to bear that weight. I would take it if I could. I will stand by your side. I'm not going anywhere.
The commander dips her head in a tiny nod and you know that she understands.
As soon as the elevator doors are opened wide enough, you are slipping through the crack, your thigh muscles tensing as you resist the urge to break into a run. You stifle the childish complusion and settle for a fast walk, the commander matching your hurried stride effortlessly, managing to look graceful whilst you look like a bumbling mess in your excitement. You trek through the twisting corridors of the tower until you reach the opening that leads you out into the cool night air, which brushes against your heated skin in a frigid welcome.
The setting sun has disappeared while you have been inside, leaving the sky a clear midnight blue, with the moon shining its pale light upon the city of Polis. The colourful laterns that are spread throughout the city have been lit in response, along with the torches that line the main street, lighting up the faces of the city's inhabitants that are still wandering around at this hour. You pass them by without a second glance as you stride down the dirt path, unaware of the way that they stare as you pass, awed by the sight of heda and wanheda walking side by side.
It is only moments before you are walking past the alleyway that leads down to the outside tavern that you frequent with Luna and your kru. The commander turns as if to follow the path, but you grab her arm without thought, earning a scowl as you force her to continue with you down the main street with one arm, while your lift your other hand to put your thumb and forefinger in your mouth.
You let out one loud, long shrill whistle, followed by two shorter ones and then you wait, ears cocked as you walk towards the city gates.
"Klark," the commander murmurs, but you wave her off with a small smile as you hear a ruckus begin in the distance, followed shortly by the sound of running feet. You let out another whistle as the footsteps come to a collective stop and half a second later, pounding feet are racing in your direction, and then Reivon is standing by your side, as if she had been there the whole time, while the rest of your kru are walking in formation behind you.
You spare a small moment to meet the commander's gaze, offering her a supremely smug expression and smirking when the commander rolls her eyes in response.
"Heda," Reivon says, bowing her head at the commander, earning a small, proud grin from yourself at her unexpected deference. "Prisa. You called?"
"Our people are due to arrive at the city gates within moments," you offer without premamble, your grin widening when Reivon's expression brightens at the news. "Also, I need you to make a list of every item you used to make that old world bomb when we were young. And once we have aquired everything on that list, I need you to make one."
If possible, Reivon's expression brightens further at this order, her grin becoming almost feral when the commander adds- "Or two, if possible."
"The more the merrier," Reivon replies, practically bouncing at your side and you cannot help but smile at her enthusiasm. You pat her on the back as you walk, tearing your gaze away from your friend when you finally reach the city gates and come to a collective stop.
Only a few moments pass before your impatience begins to get the better of you, your foot tapping incessantly upon the ground as you stare into the darkness. The commander stands tall at your side, seemingly content to wait and you attempt briefly to match her actions, straightening your spine and clasping your hands behind your back whilst adopting an impassive expression.
Only a minute passes until your fingers are once more fiddling with your belt before they move on to tap against the hilt of your dagger. This lasts up until your wrist is encased in a surprisingly gentle grip and you turn your head to stare questioningly at the commander's profile, as she continues to gaze down at the dark, empty road.
"Patience is a virtue, Klark," she murmurs, so quiet that you can barely hear, though you still somehow many to catch the amusement that laces her tone. "They will be here soon, I am sure."
"Yes, well, I have always been more of an instant gratification kind of woman," you whisper back in response, watching as the commander's lips curl up in a tiny smile. You are so focused on the curve of her lips that you do not notice the sudden movement on the road, until the commander gently squeezes your wrist which is still held within her grasp.
You reluctantly tear your gaze away from the commander's profile, turning your attention back to the dark road where you observe as shadowed figures begin to fill the path. Their faces are indisinghisable from this distance, even with torch light flickering over their forms, but even from so far away, you catch glimpses of the white paint that is smeared over the features of each warrior, a sign of the Ice Nation.The sight makes your heart pound heavily in your chest, in sync with the sound of a thousand pairs of feet marching in your direction, and a smile splits your lips as your entire body practically vibrates with the urge to run and greet them.
As the hoard of warriors gets closer, you begin to make out further details; the grey and white wolf skin cloaks that they wear draped over their shoulders, the spears that each warrior holds proudly, sharp points directed up at the night sky, and finally, the faces of the people in the lead- one in particular standing out from all the rest.
Echo, of course, who you can see staring straight back at you, a grim smile on her face as she proudly leads your people toward the city. You hold eye contact with your old friend as she crosses the distance between you, until she stands only a few feet away and your people come to a syncronised stop, standing tall and proud before the commander, the line of warriors reaching back as far as your eyes can see. You catch Echo's gaze once more and you share a smirk, before the older woman turns her gaze to the commander and slowly lowers herself to one knee.
"Heda." She says, her voice strong and loud in the silence and you watch with pride as the rest of the warriors behind her lower their heads and repeat the title with reverence.
"Heda."
You turn your head subtly to catch a glimpse of the commander's expression and your smirk turns into a warm smile at her wide green eyes that gaze out at your people with something like hope.
"Warriors of the Ice Nation," the commander says, her strong voice carrying easily in the cool night air. "Welcome to Polis."