[i]Ah. This part, I didn’t miss.[/i] Kire remembered how oppressive the desert heat had been her first two days in Ziad three months ago. Now and then she would pause to glance back at their party to see how they were doing before quickly going back to following the trail. At times the hints of it wavered, and the heat interfered with how clear her senses were, but she had a general sense of the direction, which she would periodically indicate to Ruli. Ysaryn’s injury concerned her, as well as Narda’s tolerance to the heat, though the giantess made no comment, only continuing on in watchful silence. Kire was glad her friend came along, then.

The closer they got to the slopes, the rockier and more rugged the terrain. [i]The trail is getting stronger,[/i] Kire observed, though the signature hadn’t materialized in her mind into a concrete scent or sensation just yet, not until they had stepped over the wards. Despite the heat that blew in from the desert, Kire felt a chill throughout her body, and the smell of night flowers filled her nostrils. Kire warned them, her gaze forward. Nothing assailed them yet, however. 

An hour in, Ysaryn’s voice rang out, and Kire and Narda stopped, just as an arrow whistled through the air. A warning shot. [i]Fucking archers[/i], Kire seethed, trying to look around to see if she could spot the source. She couldn’t trace it; whoever it was, they weren’t actively using magic, or had not been the one to cast the wards. For now, she and Narda were powerless in a delicate situation, and she disliked every ounce of it. She wasn’t going to retreat, however; no matter what, she was leaving with Ed. The Amrians listened to Ysaryn translated the exchange, and it was clear to Kire the Raielwen wouldn’t give them any quarter, even when Zeke offered his name and affiliation to the princess.

Kire almost jumped to her feet when another arrow whizzed past, this time towards Ysaryn. [i]Fuck![/i] Kire hissed, every muscle tense, itching to spring into action. When Zeke and then Ruli knelt, Kire followed. 
“Kire!” Narda hissed. 
“Do it,” Kire muttered back. Then, to Ruli, “We look similar. He’s got blonde hair. Blue eyes. Like mine. Taller than me. He should have something on him with the Wyvern sigil, like in the pin. On his armor. Amrian steel.” Kire chewed her lip. “Will they take a prisoner? A hostage?”