[quote=@persianversion]
Had it been anyone else, Ketill’s words may have drawn a laugh, though it would have been a humorless one. Now, they brought out only the faintest grin, leaving her eyes without a trace of humor.

[i]If I was stupid, I would have rode north alone to see if my brother was dead. If I was brave, I would’ve slit my throat when they caught me.
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That shadow of a grin faded instantly as the bag flew towards her, and Najla caught it just in time. His next words drew no grin, and she could only hold his gaze for a few moments before dropping it again. She only waited until he turned to go, and she followed him as best as she could, practically trotting in order to keep up with him. 

She handed him the bags, all his but the one small bag of necessities the steward had given her. She had not looked through it yet, but assumed it was simply clothes. She could not hope for much more than that.

Ketill’s offer was met with hesitation and a hint of a frown. Najla obeyed regardless, taking his hand and pulling herself up onto the horse. It was strange, she thought, that a kind gesture could be done in such an abrupt way, yet she supposed he simply didn’t know how else to do it. 

She adjusted herself on the seat, for though it was slightly uncomfortable, it was the most at ease she’d been in quite some time. It had been a year since she had been allowed on a horse, or even to touch one, whether it was due to chance or the stories of Sawarim riders that filtered to the north. Najla gripped the horse’s mane lightly, and for a brief moment, wondered what would happen if she simply rode the horse as she remembered, all the way back to her home. It was a brief, thrilling thought, interrupted as they approached the bridge.

She could see Jalil’s head still, though there was nothing but skull left of it. This was better than the beginning, when she could see the skin start to rot and had to wonder when she’d stop being able to recognize him. That time had long since come, yet Najla did not take her eyes off the skull for quite some time. Her expression did not change, and her eyes grew no sadder, but in her mind she was begging it for forgiveness.

[i]I shouldn’t leave you, not here, not alone. I'm sorry, but i’ll get you home someday, I promise. Believe that, please believe I’ll never leave you.[/i]

Only empty eye sockets answered her, yet Najla felt no stupider for it. Finally, she tore her gaze off of her brother and to the camp before her. Instantly, her mind moved from prayer to habit, and she began counting off the tents, trying to guess how many people were part of this expedition. The knowledge would go nowhere yet, but at least it kept her attention away from the looks the pair were getting. These were nothing new to her; she had been a Sawarim in Broacien for a year now, which meant a year of these looks. Even still, she didn’t like it. She didn’t like the idea that any of these people would be familiar with her face.

As surprised as she was that Ketill had aided her off of the horse, Najla felt even more surprised when he moved to help her off. This time, she took his hand without hesitation, and followed behind him into the tent. Instantly, they were greeted by shouting, then stares. Najla simply kept quiet as he pushed her forward, her eyes firmly on the floor, allowing Ketill to speak while she tried to look anywhere but the map or the men.

Again, Najla found herself surprised at his actions. It was clear that he didn’t trust her, he’d be a fool to, so she couldn’t understand why he had brought her with him. What was clear however, was why the others had allowed her to stay. He had a commanding voice, and his words were curt, leaving no room for objection. No doubt her new master would be a powerful leader in this expedition, and already Najla was trying to see how that could help or hurt her.

She stood for the rest of the discussion, and after a few minutes of it, began to feign boredom. She picked at her nails, bit her lip, all the while her ears were closely tuned to the men’s words. They offered little of help, mostly arguing about routes and the like, yet she listened hungrily. After some time, when it seemed the men did not notice her presence, she began to examine them, allowing herself to stare and judge without fear. She examined the map then too, though she did this much more cautiously, trying to fit their words into the map so she might have a better idea of their strategy. It grew exhausting to stand and listen to these men argue for so long, but Najla did not stop listening. 

When the discussion was finally over, despite her exhaustion, Najla was almost disappointed. She was finally gathering information again, this time in closer conditions than ever before. Already her mind was racing, trying to remember where her cousins stationed their spies in Broacien. She could no longer rely on her own, they were long gone, but if she could just get to one of her cousins people…

The thought did not last long, for it was interrupted by a sharp fear as they entered the tent. Najla froze by the tent entrance, watching Ketill fearfully as he stripped himself of his armor. She had thought of this, or at least, had tried desperately not to. It was the first time she did not take immediately avert her gaze, but instead watched him carefully, watched his motions, waiting.

As he began to speak, the fear in her eyes began to fade. Her expression turned first to one of obvious confusion, as her brow furrowed slightly, but eventually even this faded altogether. Najla had not moved from the door, and she waited until he laid down on his bed before she moved to hers, sitting down gently on the edge as he spoke. 

There was a silence when he finished. Perhaps she was trying to decide a response, or see if it merited a response at all. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, her eyes on the ground.

[i]“I will not run, my lord.”[/i] She spoke these words awkwardly, as if he had asked her to repeat a promise to him. 

[i]“I have been in the north long enough to know what they think of my people. I have no skills, no weaponry, and no courage. You needn’t worry about me, my lord.”[/i] She looked up at him at her last sentence, and though her voice was still soft, they were a vipers words. She had every intention of becoming a danger to him and all of this expedition, so long as her God was behind her. 

It did not take long before Najla spoke up again. Her words were tentative, yet she spoke as if the question came pouring out of her, as if she could not hold it in.

[i]“Do you require anything else of me?”[/i] The question itself seemed innocent, yet the implication was clear. She simply wanted to know, to rid herself of any fear. For while it seemed, at least so far, that he had no intention of touching her, she knew these Monarchists to be a brutal, savage people. Perhaps he feared dirtying himself if he touched a Sawarim woman. Hoping silently that this was the case, Najla waited to be told to water the horse, fetch him some food, or even shut up and sleep, anything that would dispel this notion.

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