[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

The previous evening had been like something out of a nightmare. Khasia had dragged an angry Nasir away from the circle of children. When this beating had started, she didn't know, but the limp figure of the boy, Munir, had been left on the ground where they had thrown him.

Nasir was still angry with her, now that morning had come. His eyes smouldered when he glanced her direction, but Khasia didn't care. If they had killed that boy, if he had died... She set her jaw. The elders would have no mercy with murderers. Khasia knew it. Nasir should have known it. She was not about to lose everything for the sport of beating a skinny little boy.

Fitfully Khasia adjusted the fabric shoulder straps on her basket. The group had been walking since a few hours before dawn and were a respectable distance from the Baobab tree and the old encampment. Sweat trickled down the back of Khasia's neck underneath her braided hair, and dampened the fabric of her shirt. She rolled her shoulders trying to unstick the clammy cloth from her skin, but it was no use. Narisa walked in front of her, her eyes fastened firmly to the ground, a bulging sleep bag tucked under one arm.

Khasia let her eyes stray over their little group, making sure that Ralah was keeping up with the others. Everyone was lagging a bit, and why shouldn't they? Hard walking in the heat was something the tribe avoided, nobody was accustomed to it Khasia broke into a quick jog, soon reaching the front of the group where Jasara and Najah were talking.

"Jasara, how much further?" Her sister shot her an icy glance, probably still upset about the way Khasia had interrupted the fun last night. Rolling her eyes, Khasia grabbed Jasara's arm. "Look. I know you trust something I don't understand. I know you have answers from someplace I don't have access to. But I know that if we had killed that boy, the tribe would have killed us. You know it too, Jasara."

Jasara smiled to herself, and Najah clutched her sword, as though Khasia were an attacker. "We will stop soon enough, Khasia." Jasara told her in a low voice. "Not too far from here is an old campsite. The stream flows close enough by there, and we will have all that the land can give us. There is no need to go farther from the old than that." Khasia nodded, glancing back at the faces behind them, from the still glowering Nasir to the ever-cheerful Rijal. She hoped Jasara was right.