Anshi: The Lost Eagle of the Steppes

The Savory Scent of Stew

After Anshi left the Bungalow, he decided that he would walk for a while. He desperately needed to clear his head, to calm his emotions. It was not in his nature to cause pain to another human being, much less someone who had grown to care about him very deeply. He just could not return that love the way she wanted. She was his sister in his heart and that was that. It was good that he was leaving. She could not shake these feelings with him constantly there to keep the wound open.

Eventually, he noticed a tall, slender form, slightly shorter than himself, following him from a few paces behind. He felt his pulse quicken as he realized he was close to the alley where Mian Mian and the other Lan guards were murdered in a vain attempt to capture Anshi and return him to slavery. He quickened his pace and then turned down a side street nearby, unsheathed his sword, and waited. The figure began to pass and Anshi moved swiftly. He came up behind the tracker and placed the sword against his neck. 

"Do not move if you wish to live. Why are you following me?'

"Anshi. Anshiits me, A'Qiang". The figure pulled back the hood from his cloak and revealed a handsome yet very frightened face

"What the hell? A'Qiang"? Anshi stepped back, hands suddenly nerveless and shaking.

"Little Brother, have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten where we are? What happened a few yards further? Why on earth would you follow me at twilight and not let me know you were there? I could have killed you, you fool!" 

Anshi sat on the top of a low wall, his breathing hard and labored. A'Qiang sat on the ground in front of his older brother. They were similar in build, but that is where the resemblance ended. That was natural since both were adopted by Chang Yenay and Chang Lan Qinyang and were not related by blood. They had been among the lucky ones over the years; orphaned or abandoned children that the women had devoted their lives to raising and sending back into the world as strong and fruitful citizens determined to make their mark in the name of Cloud Recesses.

Anshi was handsome and more muscular, his complexion reflected his Steppe heritage, a deeper hue that had an underlying bronze that glowed. His cheekbones were prominent, the nose strong and high. His face was slightly broader than the elongated elegance of the Lan Clan,  while the mouth was generous and quick to express pain and sorrow. And those eyes, piercing and startling with that emerald light that reflected the sun-drenched grasses and forests of the Northern Steppes.

A'Qiang was a typical Lan-type, beautiful and elegant, his strength more hidden and deceptive. Pale, beautiful as all Lan men were, his innate gentleness was always present, his countenance calm and grave at times.  His eyes were a deep velvety brown, like a mink wrap, designed to bring warmth and comfort. They instantly soothed anyone seeking compassion from their depths. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and it belonged to Xiao Mian; his devotion since childhood had never wavered.

"I was sent by our Mothers to ask you to dinner. I was at the Bungalow gates when I heard Xiao Mian screaming at you. I tried to put distance between us, so I would not be indiscreet. Uncles will calm her down. But you seemed terribly upset and alone. I wanted to make sure you were alright, too."

Anshi smiled fondly at the younger man. It was a strained smile, full of regret and self-recrimination. "I hurt her badly. There are no excuses."

A'Qiang was quiet for a moment. He knew his brother well. No matter what he said, the man he admired the most, who taught him to fly and fight, would always shoulder more than his fair share of responsibility. That had not changed since the killings of Mian Mian and the Guards; not since General Lan Ming had sacrificed her life to save The Singer in the battle against Meng Shi and her forces; not even as a five-year-old was dragged from his family yurt and forced into servitude because someone coveted his voice.