-Albert Einstein
Step. Step. Step. Another step. Another step. On, on, on. The girl involuntarily took another step, one of thousands. Step. Step. Step. She couldn't give up now. She had put herself on short ration, just enough for her to retain her strength. She slept under the stars by night — which was not comfortable, as the temperature was less than cool despite the desert heat in the day — and cut sparse desert plants' roots for water. The girl knew that hunting for desert animals would be useless, as she did not have fire to cook them. Raw meat was the last resource she wanted to get to, anyway. She hated how blood poured out when she sunk her teeth into it.
Finally, she sunk down onto the sand for a brief rest. She knew this was disobeying the rules of the military but she did not care for now. Nor did it matter that it might bring some serious outlook to herself, as she might pass out without the forced movement of her body. She had been walking straight for four days, now. She had kept track by the sun and the stars.
She didn't exactly know what she would do, she reflected as she got up unwillingly and forced herself to, once again, stride with her long steps. She knew the Elf-glades were somewhere north, farther north than the blasted city of Gondor. She would have to force some information out of a scraggly Human-rat before she got herself lost and in danger. That would be easy.
The girl wondered if the rest of the clans had realized that the troop was dead. Probably, she decided, they will not realize for another couple of days or so. The troop's leader often sent messages back to the clans' posts by trained hawks, to let them know about the news. The hawks were fast, but not too fast. She was not sure if they had been burned, as with the others, but she had not seen a dark, circling figure in the relentless sky.
Step. Step. Step. On. On. On. She was growing irritated by the unchanging rhythm of the pace, but she was used to it, and did not complain. Her determination for a sweet revenge drove her on. On, on, on. She was going onward.
It was nearly nightfall, and she felt, rather than saw, the sunset. The desert was cooling down rapidly without the red sun to provide it warmth, and even now the stars were coming out. So were animals, of all shapes and sizes. There was a desert owl now, and far away a fox yelped.
The girl knew that it was dangerous to sleep just on the ground like this. She would have to provide some sort of shelter. With keen, slightly lustful eyes, she turned around, hoping to see something that would provide as a shelter. Nothing, except for some cactuses.
She had been under training about this, she knew. She was to calm if she could not find any shelter she could sleep in, and go into a very light sleep, keeping her weapons out. If necessary, she was to light a fire, but she did not have any fire-sticks.
Keeping that in mind, she suddenly shivered. The sun and the long, unaccustomed march - longer than the ones she had done in the troops - had driven her to sweat more than she did, and she felt cold and wet at the same time: not a very good combination. She stripped her outer garments quickly, got a cloth rag she had picked up from the fire, and wiped herself, hoping she would not get a fever or a disease that would hinder her journey. She somehow felt that the people who had died were counting on her. Counting on her to make the move that would bring glory and triumph, or at least justice.
The girl found a cactus, cut open one of its bloodlines, and got some water to flow into her water bag. Trying not to get prickled by the needles, she muttered a - what the soothsayers of the clans called "spell," yet it never worked - against any scorpions or rattlesnakes that could come by. Although she had the antidote in her inner belt, she couldn't be too sure.
She got settled on the cactus. She did not remove any of her garments - except for her cloak, which she used for a blanket, and a small rag from her pocket, which she folded up to use as a pillow. She dared not to remove her heavy boots, for in case that something would bite her unprotected feet or crawl into her boots.
Finally, murmuring a long-forgotten song only half in memory, and stroking a gold chain around her neck - the only thing she really had in value, except for her glaive and her sword - she closed her eyes and willed herself to the place where dreams were born. It did not take much effort.
"Hanal, what are you trying to ask me?" she laughed. Hanal had been her only friend since childhood. Loud, fun-loving, and rather proud of his swordfighting skills, he was another one the troop had taken as a promising pupil.
Hanal's grin was faded, however. A serious glint creeped into his coal black eyes, and he was - fidgeting, a little. A thing that he did when he was nervous. She should know. She was his best friend. "Wolf," he said, calling her by her nickname, "you know we are both of age."
"Yes..." She had a feeling of dread.
"I -" Words stumbled in his throat; they never had. The girl knew something was going to happen. They always did. Friendship was always messed up this way.
"I wanted to ask you, would you be my bethrothed?"
She had expected it for sometime. She had heard other women gossiping, some disapprovingly, others delighted. Something to do with marriage or whatsoever. Although she had knew what was going to happen, her cheek felt on fire, and she found she couldn't meet Hanal's eyes. Another girly trait, she thought. I'm turning weaker every second!
Did she love Hanal? She supposed so. It was different to make out Hanal's -- personality. It was like water: this way one second, that way another. But did she love him?
She fled. "No." The word grasped. "I won't. I do not want to be bethroed, ever. It's not against you..." Hanal's eyes were hurt. "I just -"
She had fled. The first time.
The girl woke up suddenly. Something - someone - was watching her intently. Opening her eyes and thankful that she had had her glaive in her hand, she slowly turned her head, looking about. What could it be...?
A wolf. It was a slightly scraggly, yet handsome, beast, powerfully built with shaggy grey fur and determined silver eyes. It had come from the north, wondering far south for some game, for it had been chased out of the forests. Scars on the wolf showed her that it was a rebel of the pack, but from the dignified stance of it, she guessed that it had been a leader of the pack, once. Although the girl was known to be like a wolf, she had never met one personally, and knew they were dangerous creatures. One lunge and she could be dead: they were creatures of the night, their silver or golden eyes glistening in the moonlight and howling away at the moon. The only thing she knew close to it were their cousins, the coyotes and the desert foxes.
The girl and the wolf stared at each other for a long moment. Golden - amber eyes of the Haradrim met the silver eyes of the wolf relentlessly, sharing secrets and dreams yet both were unaware of it.
Finally the contact broke, and the wolf, growling at her, circled around her. He had been starving almost for four days, and his clan had chased him out, for an unjust reason that most wolves rarely followed. Ungrateful one - the one with the broken fang - had rebelled against him. But his memories ebbed away into the past, and the present came back to him. He must have food. This girl was alone, and perhaps she would be easy prey...
The girl took the growl as a warning. And she stood slowly, showing the wolf her full height. It did not matter. The wolf was a big one, coming nearly to her belt line. But she was not afraid. She rarely was.
After one silent moment wolf and girl stared at each other once more.
Then: something in both's head clicked, and they warily back up, and the wolf disappeared into the shadows. Somehow, in their eyes, both knew the other was not a foe. The girl relaxed and heard the wolf run. It was a powerful rhythm that thumped the ground.
Pity the wolf had run. She could have fed him something. Then the absurdity of the idea hit her. It was a wild wolf. Anything wild was both her friend and her enemy. Anything that wanted to kill her was a foe. Thus the wolf was her foe. But something went through all these lessons she had learned back in time, and something told her that the wolf would not harm her, as long as she would not harm him.
The wolf howled. Following her instincts, she wanted to howl, but she did not. All tiredness gone, she suddenly packed her belongings and started to walk north, following the stars, swearing still she would follow revenge. Something had woken up inside her; a fiercer light in her eyes.