Dhanurana

Chapter 41: The Escape

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The jungle was wasn't any brighter for the Uttaran column marching through it, despite what Brachen had wondered before. They had no trouble navigating their own homes, easily stepping over any dip or stray branch in the road. One tossed aside a bundle of fronds to keep the way clear, past a Fish Clan spirit who was tasting the air at the perimeter, keeping watch.

Dhanur buckled as northerner after northerner prodded her. They hurled insults and trash like before. A few swatted at her with path-side branches, trying to bring out the fire she showed last night. Brachen and Janurana took a few more lumps themselves, although as a gwomoni Janurana rarely swelled up or blend for more than a second. No warrior noticed as she kept her head down with her hair covering her face.

Dhanur tried to take the projectiles for her father and even a few for Janurana. Mostly, Dhanur kept a rigid and focused glare as if she were in battle. No warrior actually used their weapons since Miraku stood in front of the three prisoners ensuring no one ruined the arena's new attraction.

Dhanur ignored all incoming assaults and focused all her contained anger at the warrior holding her quiver and bow. She insulted him, questioned why the Macaques let such a weak warrior into their ranks, wondering how many of his friends she's killed and how they brought no glory to their clans. It only antagonized the warriors around her more, but she ignored them to keep on pestering. At one point she rammed forward, almost knocking him over. The warrior holding her weapons kept his cool, and she kept trying. Her bow was slung over his back for her to see just how powerless she was. It had even been strung, but with a new string.

"What? Cut yourself stringing a bow? Ha!" Dhanur kicked him, smirking.

Brachen was surprised that Dhanur kept her cocksure smirk so convincing, but he could easily see by her tightened fists that she was having trouble controlling her rage.

He had trouble keeping up with the column marching up through the jungle. Despite his constant assurances that he was fine, Janurana kept leaning forward to push Brachen along if necessary. Each time Dhanur would snap around, and each time he would assure her he was fine. The occasional ray of sun helped, but not enough. The vines binding their hands enjoyed the light just as much and tightened with every ray they absorbed.

"These Light lost ankles," Brachen cursed as he stumbled.

"Is that where Dhanur picked up her filthy mouth?" Janurana chuckled awkwardly as she pushed up behind.

Every time Dhanur had stumbled, even from being hit, she was scolded by those around her and told to stand upright. The mob was too preoccupied with the traitor Dhanur to do the same with some random monk, even if he did pester Vatram before the war. Brachen gave Dhanur a long, pained stare that she met for only a moment. Both knew it was getting less and less likely they'd all make it to Aram, so she bumped into her target again. Even when Miraku tried to stop her, she just stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.

"What? You gonna ruin Arai's night of fun??" She laughed, then Miraku knocked her to the ground.

Brachen fought with every fragment of his Light blessed power to not run forward and take his daughter's place, but he knew she'd never allow it, and his ankles couldn't stand up to her anymore.

"Perhaps," Brachen finally responded to Janurana, regaining his footing with her help. "But I have traveled for much longer on much worse wounds than age."

"Oh, I'm sure you have. But there's no worse wound than that." Janurana sighed, feeling as if the patch on her hips were still there. "Excuse me? Madam warrior?" Janurana turned to the warrior behind her.

A Tree Clan with armor lined in green and an ax slung over her shoulder cocked her brow at the southern words.

"Oh. Right. Uhm. Yes, attention. Attention?" Janurana tried in Uttaran.