Her boots touched down on...grass? Was she back into another forest?
She whirled to find the woman looking down at her with an almost motherly smile. "I'll give you a tour of the camp and then i'll introduce you to your mentor," she said.
Kymalin frowned. "Mentor?"
"We will teach you how to fight and defend yourself," the woman replied with a shrug. "Of course, you will need a mentor. I think you will really like her."
And without ado, they walked forward, into the camp ahead. "Camp" was the closest word Kymalin could associate with the place the woman was showing her. Tents, both colorful ones and off-white ones, were pitched in hazy formations all around, each having some kind of flag waving at the pinion. She squinted to see where the sea of waving flags ended but so far, she couldn't.
The sky was also blinding. Without the interference of the trees, the sun shining down on them was a welcome sight. Interestingly, even though it was bright out and the sunlight streaming straight towards them like a theater light, she wasn't sweating as much as she was in Carcalet. There were no breezes either. It's like...it's like magic. Because if it's not, then Kymalin might just be damned because this concept was just so mindblowing.
"That's the armory and training ground," the woman pointed to the wide field they just passed, jarring Kymalin from her wonder. It felt like it was at the heart of the camp but Kymalin couldn't be sure. It appeared like there was more further north. "That, over there, the only building in this place, is the dining hall."
Kymalin scratched the side of her face. "Why was that the only one that is not a tent?"
The woman chuckled. "Well, it would suck to cook under a flammable roof, wouldn't it?" she said. "Besides, the tents are personalized so it's easier to remove compared to the erected buildings, foundations and all."
Kymalin didn't need to say more. The woman, Peredeira or whatever, basically implied people here were gone all the time and that made their personal space in this camp to be easily abolished. The only question was what kind of "gone" were those people?
She didn't get to ponder about that question because she spotted another woman coming closer to them in the horizon. They were still in the open ground which Peredeira said was for training. Kymalin watched the newcomer jog towards them in light, hearty steps only to slow into a brisk walk when she got a few steps closer.
"Peredeira, welcome back," the woman pushed stray locks of hair that escaped her simple updo off her forehead. Sweat glistened on her forehead. She must have been in the field for a while. Then, her eyes went down to Kymalin.
Kymalin wasn't meaning to, but she gave a small squeak when she locked gazes with those eyes. It's...it's like a pool of stormclouds combined with angry waves. Somehow, despite all that, she found them to be gentle. "Who might this be?" the woman asked.
YOU ARE READING
MOFM 3: The Heir of Night
FantasyKYMALIN IARO cannot give up. With her brother running out of time and their mother powerless, Kymalin embarks on a journey to find a cure. So when a powerful organization becomes her only hope, she has to prove she belongs to it, even if it means ge...