Zaira moved quickly across the open desert, leaving the war camp and the forty thousand marching soldiers far behind. The red plains slowly gave way to golden dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see beneath the midday sun.
Sagiri sat quietly on Zaira's broad neck, his eyes closed as the familiar desert wind brushed against his face.
Behind him lay a small black shroud containing Rika's body, the last surviving elder daughter of the N'folu clan.
After sixteen years of living with hatred and regret, she was finally returning to the land where she had been born.
Sagiri looked down at the shroud, remembering the hatred in Rika's eyes when they had first fought in the canyon. She had spent most of her life feeling inferior to his mother, Rina. Jealousy had slowly consumed her, and cruel men had used that weakness to control her.
