“We have some pack horses that we can loan you.” began the man that seemed now responsible for their care. Hatsura was one of the few Malifori in the camp that seemed more likely to greet her with a smile than a knife. Lily was not sure how she felt about that—at least with the others she knew what they were to do. With people like Hatsura, she was never quite sure if they were going to bury a blade in her back the moment that she turned around. A strange part of her mind was almost hoping for such a thing to happen, for she had a dire lack of knives and needed some new ones.

Hatsura clapped a stocky roan, tightening its saddle and readjusting some of the straps. “Irris will take care of you, in a manner of speaking. Although, he’s been carrying clothes for the journey, so he might not be used to a woman on his back. Not that any man can ever get used to a woman’s company.” he laughed, grabbing the horse’s mane and tugging firmly as it tried to walk away. With a smile, the Malifori clamped both hands around the horse’s muzzle, holding it firm as he spoke to it. The words were in his native tongue, a rapid-fire mess of words, some stolen, some twisted. Lily did not know if the horse could understand, but it seemed to calm itself enough for Hatsura to gesture for her to get up.

Swinging a foot into the stirrup, she managed to seat herself atop the beast in an awkward clambering motion better suited for climbing cliffs than riding horses. She had never been fond of horses, and she had never learned how to ride properly either. Irris seemed to sense her discomfort, taking advantage of it to toss and turn like a mule. Lily could only scream, grabbing onto the horse’s neck with all her might to avoid falling off. It did not help that Hatsura only stood there laughing, waiting for the horse to eventually calm down. “He likes you!” the Malifori laughed, slapping the horse on the flank with a loud clap. “Off you go!”

“Wait what do you—” she started, only to be interrupted when Irris suddenly bolted down the Kingsroad at a gallop.

Her breath caught in her throat as every fiber in her body was focusing on one thing: do not fall off. She dared not to even breathe as she was jostled atop the horse, tossed about like a doll at Festival. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the reins, and when gave a tug inadvertently, she was shocked as Irris turned in an instant. Slowly, she began to find the rhythm of the horse’s gait, loosing up her tense body and riding with the rise and fall of its back.

A feeling of exhilaration and euphoria filled her suddenly, and she could not resist letting out a whoop as she pressed her heels into the horse’s sides. The sudden burst of speed took her by surprise, and she relished in the feeling of the wind in her face as she rode Irris back towards the camp. Her face boasted a massive smile as she waved to Hatsura, only to bury her face in the dirt when Irris shook her off in her distraction.

“I see you two have bonded well.” Hatsura guffawed as Lily spat out a mouthful of dirt and dust. “We’ll be leaving soon, whenever the Warchief calls for us to move. You’d best ready your things.” He left, walking off towards his tent and leaving her behind quite rudely in the dirt.

“Crow-cursed horse.” she muttered with a smile. “I ought to butcher you and turn you into jerky.” Irris snorted in offense, tossing his head before trotting off to graze without her permission. Lily could only give a huff as she stood up, brushing the dirt off of her new clothes. She had been gifted them by Moktoga; her old rags were more thread than fabric, and they showed more than they covered. Hardly befitting a lady, she thought, or at least one outside of her bedroom.

“Sister!” came a shrill scream, filled with blood and terror and cutting through her thoughts like a knife. Lily whipped around in an instant, her heart skipping a beat and her veins plunging into ice. Yet there was nothing behind her, nothing but grass and trees in the distance. Her chest was heaving, her skin suddenly covered in sweat. As she looked around, she saw nothing out of place, yet she was almost certain of what she had heard. Why had it been so familiar? So feminine and filled with fear?

Did I have a sister? The sudden thought pierced her mind sharper than a spear, and she crumpled to the ground in pain clutching her head. Her breathing grew ragged, her eyes screwed shut as she let out a hoarse scream. Did I have a sister?

“Sweet sister…” she muttered, running her nails through the dirt and clawing furrows in the ground, yet she could not remember anything. As her breathing calmed and her heartbeat slowed, something trickled onto her hand. Looking down, she saw that it was a tear and that she had been crying without even noticing. “Have I gone mad?” she wondered dully, looking up into the blurry sky. “Is it the vahma that I’ve burned?”

She could not help but imagine herself having gone mad, an empty shell with a soul all burnt up into fire. A cruel smile tugged at the side of her mouth as she panted, getting up with an effort. “Not quite yet, my dear lover. I’m not done quite yet.” If death was to court her, she could only continue to rebuff him.

“Not quite?” growled a voice from nearby questioningly, and she saw Joy crawling over to her. They were still within vision of the camp, so still he pretended to be a mere beast. It was curious how quickly they dismissed him as a mindless animal just because he had claws and fangs.

“It was nothing. Will you be able to keep up with us on horseback?” she asked the demon. Certainly, he could run fast, yet could he keep up with the Malifori horses?

Joy tossed his head with a grunt. “Can’t run with you. Will panic horses.”

She furrowed her brows. “Then what’ll you do?”

He gestured towards the side of the Kingsroad, by the unkempt trees and dense vegetation. “Can follow there. Join you at end of day.”

“But then—” she began, but then a sudden blaring of a horn startled her out of her thoughts. Behind them, the Malifori camp began to move, the people getting up onto their horses and rallying at the Kingsroad. Their tents had all been dismantled, the sticks and hides loaded onto pack horses. Women and children rode in the middle of the group, men flanking the outside. The Warchief led at the front as they prepared to move, and Lily hurriedly ran over to Irris. Awkwardly clambering onto the saddle, she waved at Joy. “Go ahead then. I’ll meet you at nightfall.” The demon quickly slinked away into the underbrush, his form melding into the shadows.

They soon set off towards the Capital, hooves pounding up a cloud of dust into the air. Along the way, Lily saw various villages off to the side, signs stuck in the dirt showing where the branched off from the Kingsroad. She could see their huddled figures hiding inside of wooden huts, the utter lack of motion as the Malifori passed. The riders paid no attention to these small villages, instead riding onwards without a word. While a few babes cried, all of the other children were stone-cold. They were a tough people, beaten and hardened until they were practically made of worn leather.

They rode on, past Dulovar and River’s Edge and a hundred nameless towns that bled into the horizon. On and on the Kingsroad wound down the grasslands, like some massive stone snake. Along the way, they saw merchants and farmers, driving their carts down the Kingsroad in the hopes of reaching market or home. Their faces turned stark white at the sight of charging Malifori, many turning and bolting off into the grass or back the way they came. Some took their products with them, while others left their carts abandoned on the side of the road. Malifori riders along the sides of the mass scavenged what they could from them, taking food and supplies with ravenous glee.

As the journey wore on, Lily found her inexperience with riding to become more and more painful. Her hips and thighs burned with every gallop, the skin chafed and sore. When they finally stopped for halfday, it came as a gracious respite from her torment. The hot sun had left her soaked through with sweat, her throat dry as sand and her lips cracked. Hurriedly, she pulled out a flask of water and a pouch of food from where they hung on Irris’s side. Turning the horse loose to graze and rest, she sat to eat what she could before her stomach threatened to undo her efforts.

Looking around her, she could see the other Malifori, gathered together with friends or family, where they were. Hatsura was off with a woman, laughing as they chewed hard bread. Moktoga was surrounded by other chiefs, their faces sunken and serious as they murmured in a circle. She even saw Ahtoka alone in the crowd, his expression sullen when he tore into a strip of salted meat. He locked eyes with her when he looked up, his gaze more venomous than a snake, his features twisting in anger and hate. She responded with a chilly smile before opening her flask, downing the water in thirsty gulps. It tasted rather strange, almost sweet, and it sat poorly in her stomach. Yet she forced it to stay down as well as it could, using it to finish off the dry meat. When she looked back at Ahtoka, he had already left somewhere into the crowd. “Crow-cursed coward.” she muttered, realizing that his anger could not be left unaddressed.

Soon the horn sounded, and they mounted once more. She got onto Irris with a groan, her legs more sore than after a day of running, despite less work. She could only steel herself, resign herself to that monotonous and agonizing fate. “I never would have thought that sitting could be so hard.” she bemoaned before they took off once more down the Kingsroad.

Lily had not seen Joy as they ran, and she occasionally would turn her head towards the trees in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his form. Yet she never seemed to find him amidst those shrouding branches. Once, she thought that she saw a pair of eyes flickering in the shadows. Another time she had imagined a corpse lying on the grass, its eyes smoking black and stunningly clear despite the distance. It had sat up as she approached, its skeletal, mummified hand outstretched. Yet when she had blinked out of shock and confusion, it had disappeared. A tugging sensation had filled her chest after, like something was clenching her heart, and she coughed violently in reflex. She had spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground beside her as they galloped, her stomach wanting to heave.

“Five and three curses.” she murmured, wiping her mouth with a wrist as Irris neighed, sensing his rider’s distress. Is it from magic? From burning vahma? It was terrifyingly possible. Hallucinations, so vivid and so tangible that they seemed more reality than the memories in her head. She shuddered, knowing now that her life was very much a wax candle with but a stump left. Irris tossed his head wildly, and Lily had to pat the horse’s neck. “Don’t worry, boy. It seems you’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

Yet even those words took a toll on her, and she coughed up more blood, her throat feeling as if something was torn. Her vision swooned, her balance lost, and she clutched the reins with all her might in an effort to stay on her horse. Other Malifori watched her struggles from nearby, yet they kept their distance. No one wished to come near the whiteblood witch, especially when she could easily take out one of them if she fell.

Yet Lily managed to steady herself, managed to calm her breathing. Her vision was still hazy, still fuzzy at the edges, but she forced herself to stay on Irris. Just a little further, she told herself. Another five seconds. Another three seconds. Every little bit more bled into one another, and she clenched her jaw tightly as she rode on with pure effort. Tears streaked her face, sweat burning where it ran into her eyes. Another five seconds. Just a little more.

There was a shout; it sounded like something faint, almost like something far away. Another five seconds. There was motion around her, something indistinct that she could not quite make out. Her vision was too blurred to comprehend anything. Another five seconds. Those screams grew closer, and she felt her grip growing weak. Another fi—

And then she fell.

She shoulder crunched as she struck the ground, the pain making her gasp out in shock. For a brief moment, she her vision grew clear. She could see Malifori around her, their faces covered with disgust and contempt. She even saw Ahtoka on his grey horse, his expression one of satisfaction and vindictive pleasure. And then a shadow fell across her.

Two eyes were the last thing she could make out before collapsing: one a gleaming blood-red and the other a pale yellow.