Things were fine.
She was unharmed, after all.
Dirty, exhausted, upset, clinging to a tree, and terrified, but unharmed.
Focusing on things she liked would make for a pleasant distraction.
The high-point of pulling an all-nighter was watching the world wake up the next morning. The foliage of the magnolia tree concealed her from view and mostly kept her dry from the remaining rain, and the height of her chosen perch allowed for a generous view of the world below; from the gently curving road to her left to the woods to her right. With the clouds finally giving way for the first time in days, the sunrise was beautiful. Nature seemed to celebrate the reprieve in full force. Sparrowkeets and blue jays harmonized their songs with the croaks of frogs. Chipmunks and jackalopes scurried through the grass, collecting their breakfast with vigor. If her ears weren't deceiving her, the calls of elk-boar whispered from some far off distance.
A small rustle of leaves on the branch closest to her right arm caused Vanda to turn her attention. A green-lizard, a common little thing with a white belly and light pink throat, scurried along looking for tasty bugs. The corners of her mouth lifted at the harbinger of nostalgia. Vanda's sister, Cycla, was skilled at catching lizards. At one point, she accidentally or deliberately (depending on which sister was asked) bred a small colony of them in her room. Unlike Cycla, Vanda always seemed to breathe too loudly, stick out too much or hesitate for too long. At best, she would catch a tail that the animal was quick to leave behind. At what age did she last try? Maybe 10 or 12? Perhaps she'd finally grown into the natural finesse required.
Couldn't hurt to try.
Gently, she extended a hand towards the lizard; despite her trembling fingers, the small creature stayed still in blissful ignorance. As she closed in, a shadow passed overhead. The lizard, now aware of its surroundings, sprung from the branch, scrambling into the foliage.
Oh well. Wasn't meant to be.
The shadow passed again, and Vanda turned her gaze upward. A buzzard-hawk circled, taking stock of the meal options lying on the road. The grim reality Vanda had been trying to avoid was now the center of her focus as she looked back down at the massacre that lay beneath her tree.
Among the nearest of the dead, who would the scavenger choose? Tsung the guard or Scraps the ostrich-horse? The scavengers might consider human meat as something of a delicacy on this side of the Earth Kingdom, but what if the bird preferred the taste of something more familiar?
What a disgusting thought, she chastised herself. How could she think of such things?
She wasn't reading a scientific journal about nature's scavengers. She was about to witness a bird peck out the cold glossy eyes of someone she'd shared dinner with the night before. Yesterday, he'd been rambling on about his newborn son to anyone who would listen. His bragging unceasing even after Vanda retired to her tent for the night, leaving Lishan and Bao to suffer through each drawn out story while Saito and Mica kept eyes out for rogue animals.
Then he was dead, and well before a proper age.
Things were fine? What absolute nonsense!
If things were fine, Lishan would have come back by now with help in tow. She'd promised as much when she took off into the night, and she wasn't the type to break a promise.
At five years Vanda's senior, Lishan was the pinnacle of confidence and beauty; with a sharp wit and soft hands. Yawen had chosen her to help Vanda transition into life at the compound, and that included traveling with her escort. After all, it would have been cause for public concern and scandal if her handlers comprised only older men; and it wasn't as if Vanda's sisters could make the trek in place of her long deceased mother. Within their short time together, Lishan taught Vanda a great deal about life at the compound as well as foraging, hair braiding and makeup. They'd warmed up to one another at such a rapid pace, Vanda didn't question if Lishan referring to her as her "New Sister" was a title she'd gained via association or merit, not when she said it with such surety.
With no sign of Lishan, Vanda couldn't stop herself from running through the possibilities.
She'd only made it a little further down the road only to be killed by their attackers.
Maimed by wild animals.
Kidnapped.
Gotten lost? Lishan had once mentioned lacking navigation skills.
How could she have such a muddled memory of something so recent and jarring? She tried to unknot the tangle of memories from the last few hours, but the night's events were a haze: which came first, Mica's yell, or the sound of Saito choking on his own blood?
Was it Bao who'd pulled her from the tent?
People were running frantically around the camp, followed by whistling noises. Before she could take anything else in, warm raindrops splattered onto her cheek, but when she wiped it away, her hand came away scarlet. Bao stood over her with a look of shock and fear. An arrow pierced into his back and protruded through his chest. He took a final breath and fell to the ground. On second thought, it could have been Mica. Bao and Mica were practically the same height and build, after all. Had she even seen Bao at all? Could he have escaped the fray? Went after Lishan, maybe?
Such a mess. What would the public think?
Would a professional scribe weave a jarring narrative of the incident, or would they tell the families the truth? Governor Te's ungrateful brat couldn't bother to remember how their brothers, fathers, and sons died that night. "Expendable muscle and human shields," they would say. The first citizens of Nu-Taku she'd met and within two weeks, they were dead in front of her eyes. Yawen had informed Vanda that public sentiment wasn't always kind towards the upstart village, but no one seemed to think an outright attack was possible.
The scavenger bird landed with a flutter of wings, having chosen ostrich-horse for their meal.
The sight of Scraps being pecked apart would be easier to handle than Tsung, right? A common pack animal was far less important than a human being; even if it was one that picked her as much as she picked him. An animal she'd hand fed and spent countless hours training. At six-years-old, Scraps had learned to bow on command. He could chirp along with folk songs, dance for his dinner, and followed her like a second shadow; until an arrow sunk into one eye and out the other. She'd forgotten to give him his treat last night. He'd died hoping for it and wondering if he'd done something wrong.
A tight knot formed in Vanda's throat as she swallowed the sob attempting to wreck through her form. She wouldn't let herself cry again; not for an animal instead of a person, not when her own plight would be over soon. Crying would only make her dull headache worse and cause more distress for whatever merchant came across her and the gruesome mess while traveling the road.
A few deep breaths.
Everything was going to be okay.
Gaoling was close; she could get there on foot by the next day if necessary. The people of Gaoling loved her, and would help bring the perpetrators to justice even if they still had misgivings about Nu-Taku. The Beifongs were close with her family and could give her an advance to cover fresh supplies and pay new escorts. Her father would compensate the families of the dead tenfold, setting them up to live with more comfort than their regular wages could have provided. Grandfather Yao would do what he was known best for and pool the community of Nu-Taku to support everyone impacted.
What were her immediate options?
Was it worth the risk of whistling for the ostrich-horses to see if any survived? Although, if the attackers were nearby, the sound might also draw them to her. Throughout the night, Vanda had listened and waited for their camp supplies to be raided, but the only sounds she had heard since the fighting died down were the sounds of nature. She had hoped someone would have come along by now and spotted her. This was a popular trade-route, and as the morning progressed, the chances of anything bad happening again would lessen as foot traffic increased.
Vanda licked her lips to moisten them and gave a cautious low whistle.
Only birds responded under the assumption that she felt up to joining their carrion calls. The world was determined to move on, with or without her.
Were their assailants concerned that the ostrich-horses would somehow identify them? Destroying animals that could have been used or sold seemed pointless and cruel. She hoped that their passing was as fast as Scraps'. Animals feared pain, not death… or at least her oldest sister said so; and Lotus was often correct.
Vanda settled herself back against the tree-trunk. The branches were accommodating, as if grown specifically to serve as a hideout for a politician's sheltered daughter who only knew how to freeze or fawn in tense situations. Lishan told her not to come out of hiding until it was safe to do so. The best measure of safety would be tradesmen, merchants, or hunters making their way down the well-worn path.
She could wait a little longer, give her eyes a rest from the increasingly bright sunlight. The sparrowkeets sounded lovely and there was such a pleasant breeze carrying the scent of freshly blooming dandelions in the air.
Vanda felt herself sway slightly and stiffened up, her eyes snapping back open. Falling from the tree might not be deadly, but it wouldn't be pleasant and might cause a broken limb or a few ribs. Falling asleep would be impossible if she was reasonably upset. With a sigh, Vanda turned her attention back to Scraps.
Three buzzard-hawks were now in the throes of a feast with three more circling overhead, watching for their turn or scoping out the area for another opportunity. They were larger than she had ever realized, with coal-colored wings spanning as long as her own arms could reach. How generous of nature to make them scavengers instead of predators. The birds peered up from their meal, stared into the distance, and darted back to the sky, startled.
Something was approaching fast. A person crashed into the ruined husk of her former campsite, and stopped, taking in the carnage. They picked through the aftermath, taking an interest in Tsung's body, cautiously glancing it over and then taking a moment to peer around the area. Vanda got a better look at him from her perch: he was clearly no merchant, tradesman or hunter. He was a scavenger, not unlike the birds he had just scared off. His long black hair needed a trim, his green robes were dirty and had seen better days, and his only possession seemed to be a weathered sword. No bow or arrows. Not one of their attackers to the best of her knowledge.
He paused for a moment before reaching into Tsung's pockets. A few copper pieces and a wax-paper wrapped piece of elklaphant jerky. He examined the meat before practically inhaling it. If he was hungry enough to resort to scavenging, he must have been having as bad a day as she was.
"I know," her voice failed her. His ears perked as he whipped around in her direction, eyes locking onto the boughs of her tree, but not seeing her. It was then that she realized how dry her mouth was. Clearing her throat, she restarted her sentence as if she was delivering a speech. "I know where you can probably find a lot more… food, that is."
Things were going to be fine.
She was unharmed, after all.
Dirty, exhausted, upset, clinging to a tree, and terrified, but unharmed.