29th of Vhalar 721
In the after days of the theft of the Rosanna by the she-wolf, Demda heard nor saw hide or hair of her former pursuer. She looked for tracks, but beyond some scuffed paw prints near her former neighbor's den, there was no sign of her. Demda gave up looking a couple of days in, after her daily searches, foraging the greener shade of the rocky cliffs she resided in. At first, she thought perhaps she was near Luesco's Wall, to the east, near the Salt Lake and Ghost Gate. However, upon inspecting her map, drawn from her domain bag, she came to a different conclusion. She appeared to have gone astray at some point between the sandstorm that chased her into the ravine, coming out the other end. She blamed her overconfidence in tracking the signs in the sky, the sun, and moons and stars. But the moons and stars were wrong. At least her interpretation of them. So she finally took out her unbreakable compass. She looked at it and pointed herself toward the caves. Instead of reading northeast as she expected, they read west. A choice number of Vorkelian swear words passed her lips at that point.
So within a few breaks of the next dawn, she had her Monk, the thorned horse, packed and watered, ready for travel. She led him out of the shade of the cavern and then climbed onto him. That done, she began trotting up the ravine, through the rocky caverns that she'd called a temporary home for so many days. She did of course take the bamboo barricade that she'd constructed a few days earlier. It wasn't the best protection, but she surmised since she was still more or less alive it'd done the job.
They traveled along toward the southwest, now with the compass out almost every time Demda got turned around. No longer confident in her native navigational expertise, she rode along toward the Scimitar, not having any idea if it was even within a few trials ride, or a few tentrials. She could've been in the Northern Hotlands for all she knew.
They went along until they spotted in the distance and rather heard the whistling of carriage wheels. Demda thought for once her luck had turned. She rode straight for the sounds, and eventually intercepted the man sitting the caravan. There were two men there, one a tall and broad Lotharro, dark of skin. The other was lighter-skinned and looking more civilized with a soft white linen robe, turban, and sandals. He looked rich besides that, probably a merchant of some kind.
She rode up alongside, giving them a respectful distance and waving them down.
The white turbaned man nodded, and halted his camels, bringing them to a stop. Bits later, Demda had some goods that she'd gathered and collected since leaving civilization. She had some things of value, but they were few and far between. The white turbaned man looked at her in abject disappointment, until she spoke to him in Vorkelian, "I have trade for you? Do you like cobalt? Seeds for eating? I can purchase some of your water perhaps, or..." She reached into her belt, behind the cloak to bring out the mole cactus, still alive and attached to the string she'd tied it up on.
"You like mole cactus? Quite a delicacy and the flowers aren't without some value..." She murmured. Yet the man showed no interest whatsoever in what she was carrying. He only looked at her, a familiar look of avarice in his eyes. She'd seen that look before, in the eyes of a slaver.
"Are you from here?" Demda offered, hoping that she was mistaken about his intentions.
"Corvain Nomad camp." He said absently. She smiled, taking that as a good sign if he was a tribesman rather than a city man.
"I'm several days out of Kankaro Sky Caves. They're expecting me back in a few days now..."
The man stared blankly at her a moment, and then broke out laughing, "Several days? My dear, you must be off track by several tentrials. Kankaro Sky Caves are on the entirely opposite end of the Hotlands!"
That couldn't be true. She'd only been traveling several days before running off track in the canyon cave systems to the... east?
But then, there was a loud barking sound from behind them. The white turbaned man looked over her, toward her rear. There behind her, was the she-wolf, scuffing the ground with her forepaw, and still wearing the Rosanna.
Demda was relieved to see her, at least. The man seemed intrigued too. "That your she-wolf? I have a stable of dogs at Nashaki, we could whelp a litter of monsters from her womb..."
The man clicked his tongue, and then gestured toward the large Lotharro, who in turn jumped off the wagon, and began approaching the she-wolf with a set of irons. Demda's voice trembled as she muttered, "She... she's not mine... She's not tame."
The man in the white turban smirked and shook his head. "Don't worry, we'll break the bitch before long."
Demda turned around, to try and reason with the Lotharro, when the man in the white turban grappled her from behind, arresting her arms and laughing as he overpowered her. She kicked and writhed, but she couldn't escape his grasp. Her knife's handle was only inches from her hand... if she could get him to loosen his grip.
He cackled, "No no, forget the she-wolf, for now, Ostire! This wild woman is worth at least twice that much on the flesh markets!" He nuzzled her neck, as he hoisted her up, causing her shoulder joints to shoot pains down her spine. "Perhaps we'll breed her to stretch her value even further... Always an eye to the future, I say! Maybe you're worth the investment, darling..."
The Lotharro, hearing his master, grinned and turned his back on the she-wolf, bringing the irons to the struggling pair, to put them on Demda.
Before he could take hold of her ankles, her legs, Demda heard a blood-curdling howl, and then was struck by a spray of red blood, as the she-wolf leapt into the air, and closed her jaws around the neck of the Lotharro, dragging him screaming to the ground as she wrestled with the back of his neck. The she-wolf dragged her teeth across his carotid, causing him to bleed further. Then the siphoning sound began, as she appeared to drain the life force from the man.
Before Demda and the White Turban's eyes, Ostire began to shrivel and dry out into a husk.
Enough slack was given to Demda, perhaps in White Turban's shock he forgot he was supposed to be fighting her She took out her knife, slashed against the man's arm, and escaped his grapple. His blood trickled don't the sands as she faced him, ready to fight him.
He looked at her incredulously, holding his wound and sputtering Umayan curses. As Demda held him off with the threat of another slash or stab, a voice, rough and husky, came from behind her. "FINISH HIM" Demda was startled by the sudden voice, wondering if the Lotharro had prevailed after all and was now turning on his master... But then another howl sounded, and the White Turban ran back toward his carriage. He made it on, before the she-wolf could catch up, and whipped his camels into a speedy gait.
There, he made dust all the way away from the two.
Demda turned to the wolf, completely rattled by the experience that had just unfolded. The she-wolf had blood still on her mouth and snarled lightly, but Demda didn't take any terror away from it. She felt a sudden wave of disappointment wash over her, as the wolf regarded her with orange eyes. "You should have finished him. He's with the raiders. They'll be back before long, tracking us... But I know how to cover our tracks if need be."
Demda opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. "How... how... You can talk, so... Are you a... Witch? Some kind of Sorceress, or cursed?"
The wolf tilted her head at that and shrugged a little. The amulet, the Rosanna then shrank into her fur, as it was assimilated into her body. Then, something most grisly unfolded before Demda's eyes. The wolf began to shift and snap, her bones cracking as they reformed beneath muscle and blood. Before a few bits were through, she emerged from the metamorphosis, completely transformed into a woman with dark skin, dark hair, and a shapely form. Demda's eyes went wide, and she reached into her domain bag to grab one of her spare robes, which she threw to her.
The woman introduced herself as she lifted the garment from the ground, holding it to her chest, "I am Majaea Rosanna, by the way. We'd best be on our way before those raiders get up in arms..."
Demda wasn't going to argue, at this point. Knowing full well it was within the sorceress' power to kill her if need be, having seen what she did to the large Lotharro.
They both climbed onto Monk, and rode off toward the cavern system they'd made tracks from only days earlier.
