Claimed by Callista

Chapter ✺ 7

It's late as people eat on the fat roasted pig. My mother seems happy, having made friends with a lot of the women her age. No doubt she is always trying to spread the good word about me.

Biankar is with her female friends, sitting around polished stone seats, legs crossed and their whispers quiet.

Callista is in his tent, doing whatever Shamans do while alone. Probably consulting whoever wanted to talk to him in private about Tribal matters.

Orsunr is standing by himself, on guard, with his spear – he walks occasionally to one edge of the Tribe to the other, sensing perhaps that we're being watched.

I also felt a tingling in my blood, an instinct of eyes peering in.

Warriors and hunters eat and keep eating. They laugh and play games.

The fire pit where you could dance around, is surprisingly empty.

I don't know what their particular customs are, but the soft dirt is untouched by curling toes. No one is dancing to the low drums beating from one circle of those with instruments, just practicing and showing the kids how to do it as well.

Since I had no friends, and was already on the path to becoming a Shadow Witch with my vision – argh, it makes my fucking skin crawl – I guess I better start making a better impression.

Be nice. I tell myself. Be contained. Show them why they should respect you.

I wasn't one for paint, but I didn't mind the effect of crushed charcoal.

I guess it was in essence, the burning of a witch that comes to my mind, as I walk forward with only a skirt on, a string and a slip for the front. It was the most basic thing you could make when you had to make everything from scratch. Catching rabbits was easy, and their fur was helpful for small things like this.

I walk up to the fire and pull out a burning stick, already feeling prying eyes watching me suspiciously. I roll the stick in the dirt to extinguish any flames and embers, then I crush up the charcoal into ash within my hands.

This would play on Callista's nerves. Heh. I rub the ash randomly all over my body, leaving trail marks with my fingers. I make a deliberate spot on my forehead, and run the trails down my temples and neck and shoulders to connect to the rest.

Playing this character of cursed death witch, that everyone hated so much – I start to dance around the fire, representative of the Sun.

In dance you could play out any character you wanted, so I wasn't breaking any rules.

I dance around the fire once and rather slowly – and I see a few smiles and hear the drums beat more loudly. I'm accepted for one round, and all seems right.

Until I see Biankar stand up aggressively from her friends, to pointedly glare me down for daring to try and get the attention of Sovrex.

I stop briefly to meet her stare, but in all instances where I would wish to accept the challenge, and the silence around the Tribe suggests they understand this is likely – I decide I must take the opposite approach.

I had to make more of a positive impression at some point.

I was controlled and did things for a reason, I wanted to prove that side of me.

Bianker didn't know it and I would never show it, but I truly felt bad for killing her sister. I had been too scared. I had been so in fear of my position and future, I needed to make a statement. Although I doubt I would rush so heavy toward killing another again.

Maybe that cursed me into seeing that vision in the first place.

Ruthlessly killing Kesanr, marking Callista as my own, I was rewarded with black magic I didn't want, but probably deserved.