Nigada Iyusdi Uha Uyotsvhi

Ralla · 07-19-2011, 01:48 PM

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Backdated to July 18 (Nootau: Visible)

What she was doing was extremely dangerous and, by rule of Maska, forbidden. She was endangering her family by sneaking out so late at night--and the reason was just as treasonous!--but she was adamant on her cause. Everything that had happened in the past few days was unbelievable and unprecedented; but it only got worse. Not two nights prior--the night after Maska's announcement--the moon sent her a dream-vision of things to come. She had shared the nightmare, as it was, with Leon, but it was too grave to leave alone. And telling Maska was out of the question for several reasons, besides the fact that she didn't trust the grey man a lick.

Having tucked all the children safely in bed--Ayasha included, since the Guardians made Ralla nervous to let her daughter out past the haziness of late dusk--Ralla took one of the many skins that she had stored on the shelves--a heavy buckskin--and some of the fatty tallow she had once used to make oil-soaps. Using the tallow, she smeared the heavily-animal-scented oil onto the skin, and then donned it like a cloak. This way, wherever she went, her own scent would be masked by the stronger scent of the buck and its musk. The fire beneath her hut had long since burnt out--the white woman had been too flustered to tend to it normally--and so she slipped down and out the tree hut without a trace. Nootau flitted about and led his charge on silently, wings making not a sound on the still summer air. It seemed as if even the birds and insects of the area were quiet, confused by the sudden shift in balance. They traveled south for awhile before they arrived--or so Ralla assumed, since Nootau perched stiffly on a branch and did not move any further--and Ralla pulled back the top of the buckskin from her head, taking a quick look and sniff to make sure that no one was around. The oil was, however, so strong near her nose that she had to rely on sound for the most part; but still she heard no one moving about.

"Dawali?" she whispered sharply, hoping for a reply.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.

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