Revolutions

119 - Inuxeq

I wake up with the first light, shaking off the remnants of restless sleep. The cold dew of the grass clings to my skin, and a stiff ache settles in my bones. Swaying gently in the early morning breeze, the endless expanse of the plains stretches out around me and past the blue and white tents. My mood matches the grey sky, sour and brooding, still simmering from last night's argument.

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance around the campsite. Clad in tunics and shawls colored in their faction's signature deep blue and silver, the Atima are up and about, starting their day well before I have. I watch as families emerge from their homes, faces touched by the early morning glow.

The settlement is already buzzing with activity. Men head to the fields to gather beans, squash, and other native plants. Hunters set off in search of small game and birds. Craftsmen are at their stations, the rhythmic sound of tools sharpening and hammers striking clay filling the air as they shape pottery, weave textiles, and craft tools. The smell of baking clay mingles with the morning breeze.

Women bustle about, carrying on jovially with one another as they prepare food just outside their homes. Older children help with lighter tasks, while younger children stay close to home, enthusiastically engaged in play. Alpacas are checked on and fed, adding their soft bleats to the rest of the sounds of morning activity.

Rituals to honor the gods and ancestors begin, led by the village elders in chants and offerings. Smoke rises from small altars, carrying prayers to the sky. Men work on the construction and maintenance of homes, shaping adobe, wood, and thatch into sturdy shelters. The community works in harmony, each person contributing to the vibrant life of Qelantu Loh, their spirits intertwined with the land and each other.

The cheerful hum of their morning routines only deepens my scowl.

What I would give for a jug of chicha right about now.

"You slept outside, in the cold of the approaching winter? And without a bedroll?"

The familiar voice carries an unmistakable note of concern, but I also catch a slight hint of judgement. There's a faint scent of something sweet—perhaps honey? And some kind of flower. It seems to be coming from her.

I sigh, already exhausted from the expectation of what's to come of our interaction. I always knew we'd have to meet again and speak sooner or later, but I wasn't expecting it to be this much sooner. I've barely had any time to mull over our previous discussion, let alone prepare for a new one.

I twist around to face Haesan, rustling the grass as I maneuver. "I feel more at peace underneath the stars, if that makes sense. And the grass is no different than a bedroll—it's what comprises a bedroll anyway. Why are you drylanders so concerned about how and where I sleep?"

Haesan looks at me with a confused expression, but there's no time to explain. "How can I be of service, Lady Haesan?" I ask, exaggerating my cordiality.

She frowns at my remark, arms folded. "I understand your frustrations, but we need to determine our next steps and act quickly. Time is running out. We cannot afford to be indecisive."

"Indecisive?" I echo, irritation flaring. "I'm not being indecisive. I'm being strategic. If we don't gather more support, we risk everything."

Haesan's eyes narrow. "And if we waste time chasing after support that may never come, we risk losing Qapauma entirely. The city is already on the brink of collapse. We need to stabilize it before it's too late."

I shake my head, feeling my pulse quickening. "You're thinking short-term. We need a strong, united force to stand against the Eye in the Flame. Rushing back to Qapauma without proper support will mean certain death."