"Thank you," Viyal took the cup of warm milk that Mamai brought her. The little Diao bowed and stood aside, slightly unsteady on her feet.

  The Zakhira tribe's remnants, less than a fourth of the number they arrived in the Sunrise Lowlands with, had been traveling west for the past month. With most of their belongings stolen or burned and no time to take down any tents during their escape, they largely had to camp out in the open. The increasingly cold winter temperatures took a toll on them, as did the lack of food. Most of their Shinoona herd had been taken by the Selemur raiders or scattered in all directions during the fire. They were able to round up a few dozen of them along the way, but it would not be enough to last the tribe until the thawing season.

  Most of the elders had been killed in the attack, and even the Takheleh had not been spared. Without a shaman, a tribe was said to invite only disaster. Thus, even in these trying times, they held a ceremony and appointed one of the previous Takheleh's helpers to fill the position until they could request one from the Temple of Time.

  During their journey, they had to contend with more than just the worsening weather. Several times, they were attacked by Selemur marauders tracking the ailing tribe across a vast distance. Unlike the Gadat, who only wanted to carve out new territory and did not venture far from their new border, they were people of the steppe. They would not give up the chase easily.

  Many fell ill from the arduous journey. Most were civilians who had weaker constitutions than the warriors. Among them was Viyal's mother, who had to ride a Shinoon since they could not bring a cart during their escape. Whenever they were not moving, she lay in one of the few tents they could construct with the materials at hand, resting as much time as was afforded her before they had to continue the journey.

  "I will not invoke the privilege of the chief when my tribe is facing such hardships," Amiro had responded when Viyal requested to separate her mother from the other sickly people. "And it is his family's duty to share their boons, not enjoy them alone. Only then will we all survive together."

  Viyal's concern was the transmission of diseases among the already weakened people. However, the knowledge of bacteria and viruses did not exist in this age, so she could not convince him to separate the sick somehow. All she could do was be by Nayavi's side and give her some of her own food to supplement the lack of nutrients.

  Every hint of hope and joy had disappeared in the Zakhira tribe. Starving and freezing, all they could do was trudge on and pray to Azakhal. Their goal was to return to their seasonal migration route and hopefully come across a wild Shinoona herd to feed themselves along the way. Nobody even mentioned the threat of the Gadat invasion anymore. Such ideals were lost on people who could think only about survival.

  "They are too deep in their burrows now. I could only catch these two," Yunil approached with her Gadat halberd over her shoulder. Dangling from it on a rope were two Manakha, large rodent-like animals that normally hibernated through the winter. These must have been unable to fatten themselves enough and woken up from hunger. They had little meat on their bones left and would satiate few people for the day.

  The warriors who were not on watch or scouting duty ceaselessly headed out to hunt and forage. But it was the depth of winter now, so most animals had either already left these transitory regions or were hidden away deep underground, awaiting spring. No traders would pass through here, either, and even if they did, the Zakhira did not have much to trade for food these days.

  Viyal welcomed Yunil back with the best smile she could muster under these circumstances. She looked at the tent behind her and said, "We should give some to Mother."

  "I will cook in soup," Mamai came forward and offered to help. Be it that she was afraid the tribe would eat her or Viyal always treated her well, the little Diao servant had grown increasingly helpful over the past month.

  As Viyal watched Mamai carry the two Manakha away, Yunil sat on the carpet beside her and spoke with a distant gaze, "Mannogur would have made a feast of those two skinny things."

  The tribe's jovial chief cook had not made it out of the coalition camp that day, among many others. Viyal looked at her sister with a sad expression, then turned away. Realizing she had opened a barely healed wound, Yunil panicked and tried to find another topic to take her sister's mind off things.

  "Lavaro will soon start riding lessons," the Nokkoy said in a forcefully hopeful tone, looking out across the steppe where their small Shinoona herd dug in the snow to graze. It did not fall much, but it continued to pile up every day. Soon, it would slow down their journey even more than the sick civilians already did.

  Viyal looked at her sister and gave her a wry smile. Through all hardships, she stayed by her side and never fell into despair. As the elder sister and the much older soul, she needed to pull herself together and use her otherworldly knowledge to get them out of this situation somehow.

  "A lone rider approaches!" a voice cried out across the Zakhira camp, and a wave of hope but also worry gripped the people. It could be a survivor of their tribe who escaped the slaughter on the Sunrise Lowlands, however unlikely that seemed. But it also could be a messenger from the Ishtemur, giving them an ultimatum that Amiro would doubtlessly refuse.

  "It's a Shuva!" Viyal soon heard another voice among the clamor. She jumped up and ran where everybody pointed, Yunil close on her tail. In the distance, a lone Shuva riding on a Hyarul crossed a hill and slowed down. The cry of a Sanhor echoed across the steppe, and Viyal looked up to see the bird in question flying down to land on the Shuva's shoulder.

  "Altuna?" Yunil shielded her narrowed eyes and stared at the rider as she approached. The Sanhor suddenly flew up as the Shuva collapsed on her mount, revealing several arrows in her back. "She's wounded!"

  With these words, she let out a high-pitched howl. Her Shinoon followed her call and approached, and she rode out to help the unconscious Altuna. Viyal watched as she took the Hyarul's reins and rode beside it while making sure the Shuva did not fall off. They soon arrived at the edge of the encampment, where several Zakhira warriors approached them. However, they were deterred by the giant bird's snapping beak, as it did not want to let anybody get close to its master. Only Yunil showed no fear and pulled Altuna off its back as it nervously pecked at the Nokkoy's head. They were light taps rather than attacks, showing that it recognized her.

  As Yunil carried Altuna into the camp on her back, Viyal heard the onlookers whisper among themselves. They complained that the tribe was already in a bad state, so they could not afford charity for one who was not their own. She could not find the words to rebut them. If the Shuva in question were not her friend, she would perhaps have thought the same way.

  They brought Altuna to the tent where Nayavi rested and made room to lay her on her stomach. The new Takheleh came by to examine her. As a shaman under Azakhal, she was versed in medicine, but her ritualistic chanting and use of incense felt like a waste of time to Viyal. Finally, the arrows were removed from the unconscious Shuva's back, and the wounds were dressed.

  Viyal caressed Altuna's cheek feathers and noted the dark rings under her eyes. She was emaciated and had been covered in dust and grime when they found her, a far cry from her usually perfectly groomed appearance. Judging by the fact that she was here alone, perhaps the Shaankhor had been scattered in all directions or completely annihilated. What had she lived through in the past month? They would know once she woke up and told them.

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  Altuna's eyes suddenly snapped open. She pushed herself up and grabbed Viyal's hand with blinding speed. Then she noticed her friend, and all the desperate strength drained from her body. She fell back onto the bed, grimacing in pain as best as her mostly expressionless face could manage.

  "Rest now. You are... safe here," Viyal said, putting a hand on Altuna's forehead. She was reluctant to say that she had made it to safety by coming to their camp. Bands of Selemur had attacked them quite frequently over the past month, and the only reason they had not been wiped out was that they were from the minor tribes rather than the Ishtemur's main army.

  "They killed everyone," Altuna said and squeezed her eyes shut. The Shaankhor princess usually did not show her emotions, be it her personality or Viyal's inability to recognize them due to her bird features. However, now, for the first time, she could tell; the Shuva's voice was shaky, and tears squeezed through her closed eyelids, running down her incredibly long eyelashes. But she quickly flapped them open again and looked up at Viyal with terror. "I see them whenever I close my eyes."

  Altuna relived the moment her elder sisters pushed her back and headed into the fray. Toragan was ordered to bring her to safety and pulled her away from the battle. When she looked back, she saw her mother abandon her stilt shoes and scratch at a Selemur warrior while swinging her spear. The next time she was able to turn around as she sat atop her mount, her mother and sisters stood alone, surrounded by enemies.

  As she rode away with her younger sisters, their guards were felled one by one. Finally, they left behind the burning camp with fewer than a hundred survivors. But the Selemur and the Gadat pursued them relentlessly; they were members of the Shaankhor, the sworn enemy of the Ishtemur and the leaders of the coalition against the Omagala Empire. None of them could be allowed to escape, for they would doubtlessly rise again and return for revenge.

  Toragan suddenly stopped and turned around with a handful of guards to make a stand and slow the pursuers. Altuna could not bring herself to keep watching when they fought to the last while being shot by crossbow bolts. So many had sacrificed themselves so that she could live. With the weight of their lives on her shoulders, she drove her Hyarul onward.

  She heard screams around her but dared not turn to look. Rider and mount had to become one to achieve the great speed that could outrun the incredibly fleet-footed Selemur. Even a moment of inattention could spell her doom, so she could only close her heart to the deaths of her sisters and their few remaining guards.

  Finally, the cries and roars behind her faded into the distance, and there was only the wind in her ears. They had escaped their immediate pursuers, but it was only a matter of time before the Selemur tracked them. She finally looked around to encourage her sisters to keep running but realized that she was alone. Yet, she was not given time to mourn as bandits attacked her. They had stayed at a safe distance from the war and watched the situation unfold, looking for opportunities to capture slaves from the defeated side.

  However, they were too slow to catch up to her Hyarul, and she escaped once again. But her suffering would not end there. Selemur hunters, Gadat scouts, and bandits would come after her again and again. A lone Shuva on the steppe was an easy target, more so after they learned that the Shaankhor had been destroyed. She was not given time to rest and continued to run without aim, only looking to survive. Eventually, she was shot in the back by frustrated slavers unable to capture her.

  If not for Ravi returning to her and guiding her to the Zakhira tribe, she would likely have died alone on the endless winter steppe. Now, she could mourn her family and tribe and maintain their memory for the day they could be rebuilt.

  "You are quite optimistic," Viyal said with a wry smile. Given the state they were in now, she did not have that kind of outlook on the future. Her tribe was being whittled down by the cold, starvation, and constant raids. There seemed to be no hope for them to bounce back from this despair. How could this lone Shuva, perhaps the sole survivor of her tribe, wounded and reliant on the goodwill of a people in no position to help even themselves, be thinking about rebuilding it?

  "If I were not, I would have nothing else," Altuna said, averting her gaze. Viyal stared at her friend in shock. It made her aware that she had let herself down more than anything else.

  "You have us," she gathered her thoughts and declared. She was Akashi Shizuru, a chosen one born to lead, reincarnated into a world promised to be hers for the taking. She would die before she gave up on her destiny. "We will help you."

  Altuna looked up at Viyal with surprise in her eyes. Yunil nodded beside her sister in agreement. The last Shaankhor princess gave a teary smile in response. She had known the first time they met that Viyal was a great person. Fate had brought her together with this young Mosyv for a reason.

  An incessant coughing fit interrupted their moment, and Viyal jumped up from Altuna's bedside. It was Nayavi, writhing under her sheets. Viyal quickly brought her a cup of water and helped her sit up to drink. She had been coughing like this for the past few days. It sounded dry and wheezing, and it was extremely painful in her throat and chest.

  It was not like the flu from Shizuru's world but something deeper and more destructive. This world's remedies were limited to herbs and prayers, and she did not have enough knowledge from her previous life to try and replicate modern medicine here. All she could do was alleviate her mother's symptoms with the little means available to her.

  "I'll get you something to eat," Viyal said, standing up from Nayavi's bedside. But she grabbed her daughter's hand and held her back.

  "No, I have no appetite right now. Give it to the others here," she argued, looking across the sick in the tent.

  "I will bring something for them, too," responded Viyal, hiding her mixed feelings with a smile. She walked out of the tent and went to look for Mamai.

  "She will make for a great leader someday," Altuna commented, feeling sleepiness overcome her.

  "She already is," said Yunil with a confident grin that showed off her sharp canines. The Shuva looked at the Nokkoy's expression with an eyebrow raised, then smiled and drifted off into exhausted slumber.

  She was too tired to hear Lavaro and Layavi burst into the tent and run over to their aunt. With their mother gone, they clung to Nayavi as a replacement. It was only natural, especially since most of the children their age had not made it out of the coalition camp. Their father was always tired from fighting and hunting, and Viyal did not give them much time, either.

  "Look, I will be wearing this for my first riding lesson," Lavaro showed off his silken outfit, posing with a short staff in lieu of a spear. The dark blue outfit was slightly too large for him, but it was one of the few they had been able to carry with them during the escape.

  "You already look like a little warrior," Nayavi said with a smile and nodded weakly in approval. Even if she was sick, she needed to be a good replacement parent for her sister's children now.

  "Here, I embroidered this," Layavi said with childish confidence, showing off a square cloth featuring what could be recognized as a rather abstract Shinoon jumping over a hill. She had improved rapidly under her mother's tutelage, but Nayavi had not been able to teach her much due to her health problems.

  "That looks amazing," she praised her with a warm smile, suppressing the urge to cough. However, it became unbearable, and she turned away to release it.

  "Come, you two. Auntie needs to rest." Yunil picked up the twins by their waists and quickly carried them out of the tent. Viyal told her about the concerns of disease transmission, and while she did not understand everything she said, she trusted her sister's judgment. It was best to keep the children and the elderly away from the sick. Not that there were many elderly left in the tribe.

  Lavaro and Layavi knew better than to struggle against their big sister. They had watched her beating most other warriors of the tribe during training despite still being so young. Once she became an adult, she would surely become a pillar of the tribe like Rowen was now. The Zakhira would rise again in due time.

  Viyal returned with Mamai, carrying a large pot of steaming soup together with the little Diao. Yunil placed the twins down in front of the tent and held the flap open for them. She then turned to the children again, who looked up at her expectantly. "Don't come in here anymore. You don't want to get sick, do you?"

  Lavaro and Layavi exchanged a look with each other, then nodded reluctantly. Yunil pat their heads and entered the tent to help with the food distribution. Lavaro pouted at the lack of attention he got and trudged away, swinging his staff around in the air as if fighting invisible enemies.

  Layavi looked down at her embroidery, then peeked into the tent through a crack in the flap where her sisters began helping the sick up to feed them. She felt an itch in her throat and coughed it up before shaking from head to toe to warm herself up. With another look at the tent, she followed her brother's footprints in the snow.

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