[Aylwen Dreamsong]

“So, what is it you’re suggesting?” Nasir questioned, tone frustrated and annoyed. He had woken up soon after Jasara and Khasia had, and had gone to join his leader by the stream. The two were talking furiously about current situations and relations with the elders of the tribe, arguing back and forth and bouncing ideas off each other.

“We need to rebel. We need to show them we are strong. An outright revolt. Something they will never forget,” Jasara reiterated. Nasir stared at her blankly, his black eyes emotionless in the morning sun. Nasir had always been a perfectionist, ever since Jasara had known him. He wouldn’t try his luck or take a risk; for fear that his luck would fall just short. The only time something risky took place was if Jasara thought it was truly necessary, otherwise Nasir would try and talk her out of it or keep it from happening altogether.

“Did...did you have a vision?” Nasir asked Jasara shakily. The only reason some of the young knew about Jasara’s visions and voices was because Khasia had foolishly told everyone she had come in contact with after Jasara’s first prediction. Few knew, however, that this nagging, cold, bitter voice was the major source of Jasara’s radical ideas. Jasara bit her lip, considering how she should answer Nasir. A slight nod was all she could manage.

Convince him…the only way the elders will know and recognize your true strength is if you show them. There it was again. That voice, the voice that made Jasara’s blood run cold even in the heat of the dry grassland sun.

“We don’t have enough children,” said a voice from behind the pair. Khasia, Jasara’s sister, stood behind them, inhaling deeply; she had probably just come from her morning run. Jasara did not particularly care for her younger sister, the sixteen-year olds calm, serene shell made Jasara nervous. The girl was trouble, anyways, for she was never taking orders unless she wanted to. Besides, Jasara hated when Khasia was right about something.

Ask Nasir where your little spy boy is, the deathly whisper commanded. Jasara nodded numbly to herself, and looked up at Nasir. “Where is Rijal?” Jasara asked absently, hoping and wondering if Khasia or Nasir could hear the seemingly booming voice that pounded in Jasara’s mind. As if by magic, the pounding of little feet soon became audible on the horizon, and soon the young boy Rijal became visible. Khasia and Nasir had turned to look, and when they saw the boy, they confusedly turned their gazes to Jasara, who shrugged simply. Rijal jogged up, and finally took a stop next to the gathered young.

“The Painted Sand Tribe is camped not to far east of here,” said Rijal, panting. Rijal, if not a good spy, was also quite useful to gather trivial information without gaining suspicion. Jasara grinned wickedly at the announcement. Recruits from other tribes were not that hard to find…

“Perfect,” murmured both Jasara and the voice simultaneously.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]