Her body cast almost no shadow as the sun blazed fiercely from above at the sky’s zenith. Although she was finally becoming accustomed to the unyielding temperature after two years of wandering through the outskirts of the Manudhe desert, Namihra still felt suffocated by the oppressive heat. Wave-like fumes rippled through the still air before her, mimicking the waves she longed to see at the coastal outpost of Kaganja toward which she now traveled. She hoped the unfamiliar landscape would make her trek worthwhile. Or at the very least, that the rumors of the Baneghoran newcomer proved useful.

[color=aba000]“Cha haket! I should know better by now.”[/color] She cursed her eagerness to continue the journey during the day instead of setting camp and waiting for the relative cool of twilight. What she wouldn’t have given for a casar. She briefly considered the indulgence of traversing through the sarin atop an agile steed without any care for the time of day, but the weight of the coin purse rocking against her hip with each step was still much too light to justify such an expense. Still, she would have welcomed the company of another living creature.

In truth, even if she had waited until the early evening to continue toward the coast the temperature wouldn’t have dropped too drastically, but her decision to move about while the sun bore down mercilessly upon her was nonetheless a steep price to pay for quicker arrival and earlier access to a drink other than the warm water sloshing in her flask. Much to her perpetual dismay, she hadn’t quite figured out how to manipulate the water sufficiently enough to garner a cooling effect.

It had always been a dream of hers, to bare witness to the sea, and Namihra would have made the sojourn to the shore much sooner had the learning curve to survive autonomously in the desert not been such a precipitous one. The incline was sheer, dizzying, and arduous, but after two years, she fancied herself as having successfully overcome an initiation of sorts into desert life, and felt an unmistakable sense of accomplishment as well as a renewed sense of confidence to venture farther from the familiar trading villages and outposts that had initially served as her lifelines.

The previous evening had started much like every other in the recent past. In the late afternoon, Namihra packed away her camping supplies, gathered any excess items she had liberated from bandits who preyed on a nearby trading route, and headed into the nearest outpost to trade her goods. In this case it was Jalantha, a Baryakin village with whom she’d had previous dealings and was able to establish herself as a trustworthy peddler.

While at the market, she heard mention of a new colony led by a formidable man, the so-called Zemida Naakesh Kaanada. A caravan had recently arrived from the settlement bringing with them contemporary merchandise and lively tales of the Baneghoran people, their wares, of the Zemida’s growing infantry, and of his call for volunteers. Intrigued by the location, particularly due to its distance of only a day’s travel, as well as by the prospects this development might provide for increasing the weight of her coin purse, Namihra marked Kaganja’s location on her map and set off into the night.

When she departed, she estimated she would arrive at the new colony just after midday if she pushed through without taking a break. Looking up now from her dragging feet on the baked and cracked ground beneath her, she was relieved to see the pale stones comprising the settlement’s outer walls and taller buildings in the distance.

Imagining the rivulets of sweat soaking her shirt might soon be replaced by cool ocean water, she closed her eyes and savored the hint of a sea breeze that finally reached her.

As she neared Kaganja, Namihra realized a small Baryakin outpost had been established close by. Deciding she trusted the desert folk more than the unfamiliar Baneghoran foreigners, she stopped and made arrangements for the bulk of her stash of items to be held safely in their care with a promise of coin upon her return. It was a cheaper option than doing so within the colony's walls and this way, she would be less likely to be targeted by unsavory individuals.

No longer weighed down by her effects, she all but sprinted toward the docks. The initial view of the expansive ocean took Namihra’s breath away. The sea was jewel-blue and the sky was silk with slowly drifting tufty clouds of pure white. The strange mixture of beauty and ferocity both awed and inspired her. The air too was unlike anything she’d experienced, humid and thick with a lingering scent she couldn’t quite place. Something tugged at her from within and she felt a curious sense of deep connection. After spending a few minutes admiring the crashing waves and observing the incoming vessels, she pulled herself away toward the pier-side market.

After purchasing a refreshing beverage from one of the many stalls, she located a vendor who spoke Equarish well enough to provide the directions she sought. As she finished confirming the route a second time, Namihra overheard another man’s voice and turned, sensing his warm greeting was directed at her. She didn’t understand much Baneghoran, but was familiar enough with their words to vaguely understand him. 

She returned the gesture to the bald man behind her, though with an inquisitive and inherently distrustful gleam in her eye. [color=aba000][i]What does this stranger want?[/i][/color] As she assessed him further, her hand hovered close to a hidden throwing dagger she’d kept on her person as a precaution. In such a crowded environment it would be much easier to maneuver with it than her isameh.

His clothes seemed to be of high quality and his features were serene enough to ward off her immediate suspicion of his being a common thief, though she supposed this could just be a ploy and his appearance ultimately did little to lower her defenses against him. The more she considered him however, she realized he seemed altogether foreign. Much more so than the Baneghorans milling about the various stalls. It was only then she registered the accent during his initial address.

[color=aba000]“Apologies, I don’t speak Baneghoran very well,”[/color] she continued in Equarish, hoping he was familiar with the more common tongue. [color=aba000]“Did you mistake me for someone?”[/color]

The man gave a curt bow and a relieved smile. [b]“Oh good. My understanding of Equarish is much better than Baneghoran.”[/b] He seemed to relax in her presence. [b]“I have just arrived from Arkana. I do not know this land yet. I would like to see their Herbalist and Alchemy shops. Do you know where they may be?”[/b]

[color=aba000][i]Arkana?[/i][/color] Namihra had only heard of the name in passing and her map wasn’t large enough to indicate its location. She wondered what he was doing so far from his homeland. [color=aba000]“I too am unfamiliar with the locations of shops here, I'm afraid. I myself just received directions from this shop owner,”[/color] she motioned to the stall behind her which displayed countless different hooks and fishing lines. At her gesture, the elder man behind the counter offered a short bow and a kind smile. [color=aba000]“He speaks Equarish as well.”[/color]

Assuming their interaction was done, Namihra offered a nod of farewell and turned in the direction the shop owner had indicated where she would be able to find an audience with the Zemida. The bald man thanked her for her time and she heard him ask the same query to the vendor before his voice was drowned out by all the others.